Draco moved straight for the bar.
What he needed now was a very stiff drink.
How dare Harry! As if the boy wouldn't marry him—ha! The soft-hearted little Hufflepuff—Draco would enjoy that! Watching hard-headed Harry duking it out with his soft-hearted alter ego. That would be a sight.
Let him just try to get this ring back from me, Draco thought bitterly, gripping the tiny circle through his robes. I'll put up the biggest fight he's ever faced!
Draco was intensely focused on this internal fantasy—of Harry fighting him for the ring and Draco hexing his speky eyes out—and only a sultry little voice murmuring, "Hello, Draco" close-by managed to break him from his reverie by igniting his blood as if it were oil.
He turned on his heel slowly, partially drunk stiff drink curdling in his hand, and faced the one person he disliked more than Harry at this moment: Blaise Zabini.
"Blaise. You're looking healthy. Been getting your fill of Christmas treats, I see." Draco said, going for nonchalance, but not managing it since his teeth wouldn't come unclenched.
"Oh, I've always had a…problem saying no to gingerbread. But, luckily for me, my metabolism more than makes up for my predilection for sweets." Blaise returned, taking a sip of his cider demurely.
Draco did not like the way he put emphasis on the word 'problem'. Surely—surely Harry hadn't told Blaise. Not something as personal as that. True, he and Harry hadn't hooked fingers like they normally did when subjects were completely off-limits but…surely Harry knew not to tell Blaise.
"Well, here's hoping your metabolism kicks in soon." Draco said a bit more harshly than he meant too. This was not in line with his normal Blaise-bickering. The only way to beat Blaise, Draco knew, was to out-cool him, out-subtle him, and out-dig him—all without being forthright, all without being noticed. Insults traded with Blaise were the kind that you could never be sure were insults, except for the fact that they pinched you the wrong way, and never left your mind.
Blaise caught Draco's vehement slip, and smiled, cat-like, as if he had just mentally given himself a tick-mark. Blaise, one. Draco, zero.
This only made Draco bristle all the more.
"What are you doing here? I don't believe I've ever seen your family at this ball before. Or is your mother here as a…special guest to one of the party planners?"
"Oh, my mother is very popular. Her friends never have any complaints."
Draco nearly started again, and he glared at Blaise discerningly, but the dark, muddy eyes belied nothing.
"Is Harry around? I'm sure he could use some pleasant company in this crowd."
"Ah, yes, you two seem to be spending a lot of time together. His presence wasn't always so pleasing to you; I recall many a tirade on your part for my mentioning him too often in your presence."
"Well, what can I say—he's growing on me. And I seem to please him very much, too. But of course everyone needs someone to confide in."
This was too much for Draco—he couldn't dance around a piece of knowledge that was so vital for him to know if Blaise had or not.
He slammed his drink down loudly on the bar, but Blaise didn't even flinch.
"Just spit it out, Blaise! Did that loose-lipped louse tell you or not!"
"All that and more." Blaise said softly, and while Draco had suspected, knowing still froze his body in place with shock. Blaise leaned in close to his still frame. "I told you I'd get him, Draco. And I will. Another week of our little heart-to-hearts and he'll be kicking you to the proverbial kerb."
"Why are you telling me this?" Draco growled, grabbing Blaise discreetly but painfully by the arm. "A Slytherin never tells their plan until it's been carried out. Even by your own estimations you've got another week before that happens."
"Oh, Draco. I'm not completely heartless. I just want you to enjoy your last week with Boy Wonder, because after next week, Harry Potter will belong to me." Blaise hissed, and for once Draco could see even in Blaise's beautiful visage what an ugly, evil person he was.
Blaise wrenched himself free from Draco's shock-slackened grasp, and smiled his sparkling smile before disappearing back into the crowd.
X
"Uuuggh, holy fuuuuck." Harry groaned on his back. He sat up off the hard floor.
"Oh, Albus—I told you to fetch him, not splinch him!" a woman's voice cried.
"Oops!" he heard the headmaster hiccup.
"What the hell is going on here?" Harry asked, grabbing his glasses off the rug and looking around.
Narcissa stood with her hand on her hips, scolding Dumbledore, who was reclining at an odd angle in a plush chair next to a hot fire.
"Hello Harry, darling. Watch your language," Narcissa said cheerily, and went back to chiding Dumbledore. "Are you absolutely sure no one saw you?"
"Sure as rain, Narcissa!" the old man assured.
"Is Professor Dumbledore drunk?" Harry asked, standing on wobbly legs.
"He is much more than drunk. He drank some Klatchian wine."
"He's drunk on wine? How much did he have—I just saw him less than an hour ago and he was as sober as I am!"
"He had a whole sip, the fool—and incidentally, you're not sober right now, Harry. Dumbledore was silly enough to touch your skin, so I'd say, based on how much wine he drank, you're at least a little buzzed right now."
"Wow. Klatchian wine sounds pretty impressive. Well, I guess that explains why I feel content as opposed to freaked the fuck out that my drunken Headmaster and angry boyfriend's mother kidnapped me during said angry boyfriend's most important ball." Harry sighed, dropping into the chair opposite Dumbledore, who was singing a children's rhyme joyfully to himself, or possibly the dust-speck on his sleeve.
"Well, I came here to make Lucius squirm for a little while, and of course Dumbldore was running the risk of starting a mambo, so I thought it best to bring him with me. It seemed like a good idea to bring you along for the ride, too, once I saw how close you were to…what is it you kids say? Blowing a socket?"
"Blowing a fuse. You saw that? How?"
"Oh, I have a magic mirror. It makes parenting and wifing so much easier."
"That explains it. So how long are we going to sit around in here, then?"
"Well, you seem very much calmed now, but I plan on staying until about 11:50. I figure Lucius will panic more the closer it gets to midnight. There's always a huge photo shoot of the couples kissing at midnight."
"Up—gesh I shuddunta brought Severush." Dumbledore hiccupped.
Harry laughed and took a heavy silver-framed mirror off the lampstand next to him.
"It's nice." Harry said, although it was only showing his reflection right now. He thought he looked very much done up—his hair still insane, but less insane than normal thanks to Hermoine's Christmas gift, his collar shoving his head another inch over his shoulders. He looked even more like a vicar than Draco used to.
"Lucius' mother gave it to me when we were married. She had never used it, she said, because she believed in people's privacy. She said it was a test of character to have power like that and not use it. Well—she and I differed on many things. And the old thing's served me well these last twenty-odd years. Of course I do like to test my skill occasionally by only bluffing that I know certain things, but that's just for fun."
"So can you look at anything?"
"I have noticed that there's a censoring charm put on it—probably by Lucius' mother. She was rather a prude."
I can look at anything I want, Harry thought, and racked his brains for something he'd like to look at—the moon? Hogwarts? Ron and Hermoine? Lupin?
"Yo, there, mirror," Harry said, tapping the glass. His own reflection faded away to a gray, misty fog. "Show me that rotten boyfriend of mine."
Draco came slowly into view, and Harry realized that no sound came through—only images. Draco was talking with someone or another—the picture was too close-cropped to tell who, but Harry did think that the black shoulder next to Draco looked rather like Lucius'.
Draco must have been talking to someone important—he had that particularly haughty look on his face, the sneering lip and the tight eyes.
Harry sighed morosely.
"You two certainly seem to be having a particularly romantic first Christmas holiday together." Narcissa said, sitting on the arm of Harry's chair elegantly. Harry thought that whatever she did turned out elegant—even when plotting against her husband, throwing him in lakes, and other evil things.
"Oh, yeah, that's us: Hogwarts' Most Romantic Couple."
"It was Hogwarts' Hottest Couple. I remember. I voted." Dumbledore interjected. "You also won Hogwarts' Couple Most Likely to Murder Each Other."
"Well, at least we're living up to that one." Harry muttered.
"So how much longer do you give yourself?" Narcissa said in a stoic voice that betrayed itself for how much it strained to be stoic.
Harry gave her a long, confused look. "Um…you mean…until Vol—"
"No, no! I mean, of…of putting up with all this?"
"With all of what?"
Harry's ignorance was too much for Narcissa's tact, and she gave up violently.
"Oh my God—how dense are you! Of bickering with each other, of him dragging you around my your leash, of him being a complete haughty asshole to you day after day and ignoring you or sniping at you or bossing you around!" Narcissa had jumped up for her very loud tirade, and stood panting when she was done.
Harry glanced into the mirror in his lap, and slowly leveled it so she could see.
This confused her enough to capture her attention: Whatever conversation going on was still in progress based on the gesticulations cutting into the mirror's view, but Draco's thoughts seemed to be far from the topic. He glanced down at something in his hands and then scanned the room slowly and even Narcissa had to admit that her stoney son looked surprisingly soft; he looked as if he were alone in a desert and hoping for the glance of an oasis. When he didn't find it he sighed heavily and stared of into space, stroking that spot high up on his chest with the backs of his knuckles slowly.
"I'm always going to put up with it. There are parts of myself I don't like, either, but I can't leave them anymore than I can leave Draco." Harry replied, and stood harshly. "I have to get going. I'll see you at about 11:50, okay?"
"Professor—it's been a joy to see you so thoroughly trashed. How about one for the road?" Harry questioned, and held out his hand, which Dumbledore shook in dense confusion.
Harry shook his arms out. "Wow that's some good Klatchian wine," he sighed, and Apparated away.
Narcissa picked up the mirror and collapsed into Harry's vacated chair, feeling abashed and exhausted with her outburst. She watched as Draco obviously caught sight of Harry—his entire visage lit up…with something hyperactively malicious, quickly replaced with seeming joy.
"Uh oh." Narcissa said, knowing what kind of nastiness that glint in her son's eyes meant.
She let her head fall onto her shoulder tiredly. "I'm too mature to deal with all this teenage drama," she groaned.
"Humph—you're too mature! I'm headmaster of this drama, and I'm eighty years more mature than you! Ugghh, where's Severus? It's nearly midnight."
X
"There you are—it's nearly midnight." Draco growled very softly when Harry kissed his cheek in greeting.
"I've
still got fifteen minutes until I've officially survived into the
next year." Harry responded, putting his arms around Draco's
waist and pressing their foreheads together.
"Just so you
know," Draco said, pulling back and smiling up at him. "I'm
very mad at you right now."
"Hm. You don't look mad at me." Harry said. I must still be drunk, Harry thought, because this admission is having no effect on me.
"It's for the witnesses. I don't want anyone to suspect me when they fish your body out of the English Channel."
"I'm pretty sure I can name the number-one suspect they'll come up with. But don't feel bad, I'm sure you'll be somewhere in the Top Ten. After all, we did win Hogwarts' Couple Most Likely to Murder Each Other."
Draco seemed to ignore his murderous intents for a moment, and laughed genuinely.
"Oh my God, I'd nearly forgotten about that." Draco said, turning his head to the side.
"So are you going to tell me what I'm going to be murdered for?" Harry questioned, kissing Draco's exposed neck.
"No," Draco said petulantly. "If I start talking about it, I'll murder you right here, and put a major damper on all the festivities. I just don't want you to be surprised when we get home and I start screaming at you, because that's exactly what's going to happen—if I manage to contain myself on the carriage ride home."
Harry sighed, knowing Draco was fully serious, and held the boy's face still, and touching noses for a moment.
"Then let's just enjoy these next couple hours, okay? Let's just be happy that we still love each other before it all gets shot to hell." Harry sighed, and Draco nodded solemnly, shoving his anger to fester on the backburner. It looked as if Blaise had overshot his estimation of a week.
"Angsty much? I thought you were fortified against emo?" Draco teased—if he was going to enjoy these last few hours, he was goddam well going to en-joy them.
Harry laughed and pulled off his boyfriend. "Whew! That was a close one! I almost succumbed to my natural angst. That comes from nurture, not nature, just so you know. My poor mum did what she could."
"I know what'll get you out of this angsty mood: let's go annoy Snape!"
"Yey! Oh wait, we have to do the New Years Kiss, first."
Draco almost pointed out that you only kissed if you were going to be together for the next year, but that animal madness inside him lunged to the foré and he attached himself desperately to Harry's mouth—it felt painfully as if his soul were trying to claw its way out of his body through his mouth and get to Harry—to remain with him, to defy separation.
This was the part of himself that belonged more to Harry than to him. And how would it be able to survive without the Gryffindor?
Draco shuddered to think of it.
XXXX
A/N: Am I making you nervous? You can admit it. I won't hold it against you. I'm guessing though, that you're too pissed the fuck off at me to be very nervous. Two cliff-hangers and then I give you this! You guys must be setting up a committee to torture me into writing fluff! Well, if that's the case, then hold off your forces! I'm punching out the next chapter soon, and I think it will appease you. Although history has taught me to shudder at appeasement policies, I'm going to make this one fun for me, too, so I guess it's not really appeasement.
Review please, and tell me all of the fluffy things you want in the next chapter—it's a gift from me to you for putting up with my angst! I'll try to fit them all in, but keep in mind the limited space I'll have (ONLY ONE CHAPTER).
Also, I totally lied about getting this done by the 31st. Gawd—I'm such a liar!
