Hey guys, we are officially in September. I don't know about you, but I'm greatly mourning the loss of summer. It was gone too soon. It was so awesome, so relaxing, and there was still too much things to do. For example, I wanted to see if I wrap up 4th year for Stages. Sadly, I wasn't able to reach that goal. However, I did manage to post 13 chapters for Stages and make 8 new stories this summer, so I make progress.

Sadly, I am starting school next week. My final year of college, which is going to be one...God help me is all I can say, so I won't be able to update as much as I'd like to but still I'll update whenever I can.

This chapter so far is the longest chapter I've done for the story so far. My eyes bugged out when I saw the word count. And...I'm just proud with how it came out. I feel like this chapter will cause eyes to bug out, jaws to drop. Can't wait to see what you think. As always thanks so much for the love, special shoutout to dreamydrarry for showing me the amazing dresses the girls could wear to the ball, and if you guys have any ideas on what should happen feel free to share.

Chapter 34: A Night to Remember (Part 2)

Draco had to hand it to the committee in charge of organizing the ball. Walking into the ballroom was almost like walking into a winter wonderland.

A gentle cascade of snowflakes fluttered down from the ceiling, sprinkling onto their heads, their clothes, vanishing from sight as soon as they landed. White, silver, and pale blue that was almost an off shade of white were the theme colors with pure white being the prominent color. White silk draped over the railings, coiled around the pillars. Large bouquets of fully-blossomed peonies that were like bundles of snow held in glittering silver vases were posted at every white-linen table. White candles were seen from almost every corner of the room, being held by silver, slender figures that looked like angel warriors, hundreds cluttered together by the both sides of the grand staircase, all of them giving the room a soft, warm glow. A beautiful, gigantic chandelier hung over their heads, the crystals glistening like diamond stars.

By the left side of the room, past the dining tables, were tables upon tables of refreshments with drinks of all kind, including alcoholic ones heavily guarded by teachers, appetizers from bacon-wrapped shrimp to stuffed potato bites, and sweets of all kind from cupcakes in every flavor and cream-puffs. In front of the room was the orchestra, all decked out in black, playing soft renditions of Christmas songs and classical music. Flitwick in front of them, head tilted back, his whole body swaying as if he were drunk by the sound, his conducting hand waving back and forth. Next to the orchestra was a thirty-foot Christmas tree covered with silver and golden ornament balls, streams of silver tinsel, and brightly-glowing lights that contained actual fairies, with an angel perched on the top.

"Not bad." Pansy commented, her dark eyes scanning around the room.

Draco hummed in agreement. Definitely not up to pureblood standards, certainly not as elegant as the balls held at the Manor, but it was still better than what he expected.

"Welcome, welcome!"

Rolling his eyes, Draco turned his attention over to the center of the room, where the old goat glided in, hand in hand with McGonagall.

"Welcome all to the annual Yule Ball."

The words were met with rounds of applause, even though Draco spotted some weak spots in the mix, including his own.

"First off, allow me to say that I wish all of you a very, very Happy Christmas." Another flutter of applause with some replies of the sentiment added in there. "As tradition deems, the ball shall commence with a waltz led by the Tri-Wizard Tournament participants. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our Champions."

Students quickly parted to the left and right as the front doors opened with the four Champions gliding into the room, filed in a single line, arms linked with their dates. Delacour led the group, a living goddess incarnate in a thin-strapped, silver dress that sparkled underneath the beaming lights. Her escort was a seventh-year Ravenclaw who wore a blindingly-bright grin as if he were the luckiest guy in the world.

Behind her was Krum in his red uniform jacket and black trousers, looking like the Nutcracker. Instead of the ballerina Clara as his date, it was a girl dressed in soft-blue with a skirt that flowed as easily as the ocean, dark hair tied into a bun with loose curls framed around her face-

"Merlin's balls!" Weasley exclaimed. "Hermione!"

Seemed Weasley's brain was still distorted from the potion fumes.

Pansy tapped Draco's arm, her eyes narrowing, then widening. "Oh my, he's not kidding. It is her."

Draco studied the girl more closely, and then his mouth nearly dropped. It was Granger but at the same time it wasn't. The Granger he knew was an insect with fizzy, poofy bush for hair that was begging to be chopped off, loaded with over twenty books in her hands, back hunched over by her bag that carried even more books, with that I'm unbelievably brilliant expression on her face Harry might find endearing but Draco found annoying. The girl clinging at Krum's arm wasn't an insect. She was an actual girl, who was almost, actually pretty with her hair smooth, her eyes sparkling, and her dress that was acceptably fashionable.

Just goes to show what time, effort, and a lot of spells could whip up.

Weasley's jaw was practically kissing the ground. His date had to smack it back into place.

Diggory came after them, Chang by his side. He was dressed in black robes, Chang in a kimono-type dress colored an off-whitish gold. The pair shot smiles at the crowd, but most of those smiles were aimed at each other.

When the last pairing came out, Draco found out why Harry added red to his suit.

Delacour obviously took home title as most-beautiful out of the girls while Chang and Granger managed to hold their own, but there wasn't a doubt in Draco's or anyone else's mind that Lovegood's look took home most-creative. The girl was a butterfly, a humanized butterfly with golden-orange wrapped around her waist, fanning out into wings at the knee, with color from the crimson-red bodice leaking onto the skirt and the black white-dotted tips of the wings leaking across the bodice. The dress was adorned with crystals and black ostrich feathers added to the bodice. Her hair was piled up into the strangest bun Draco had ever seen that was less of a ballerina-knot and more of a cocoon. With a big, red and golden butterfly hair-clip clasped at the center.

She didn't look as crazy as he thought she would. In fact Lovegood looked good, outrageous but good. Good enough that eyes widened, jaws dropped, and comments fluttered. As good as she looked; Draco's eyes examined her for only a second, and then easily shifted over to her date, his gaze remaining there.

Simplicity was believed to go a long way. He had never been much of a believer of the less-is-more policy, but he was starting to become one. Unlike the others who had gone out with their clothes with Krum adding golden pins to his jacket, Declaour's date armed with accessories that matched her sparkly theme, Harry stood out, outshining them all with his simple suit featuring a few splashes of red.

An ache throbbed in Draco's chest, expanding like a twisted branch as he watched him.

The Champions took their places in the center of the ballroom, standing apart from each other, with Krum and Diggory on one side and Harry and Delacour on the other. Flitwick raised his conducting instrument and waved it once, commencing a sharp riff from the violins and flutes chiming their way in. At the sound, the Champions bowed to each other before passing through, taking slow, precise steps. They took one step forward before the men twirled their ladies, placed hands around waists and on shoulders, clasped their free hands together, and began their dance.

Each couple was lost in their world. Diggory and Chang exchanged smiles and low murmurs. Granger was giggling like a schoolgirl from whatever Krum was telling her, causing Weasley's scowl to tighten and his eyes to narrow. Delacour's date was practically drooling out an ocean, hanging onto every honey-dripped word, completely under her spell. Harry and Lovegood looked cozy, just as much if not more than Diggory and Chang. It was a sickening dance in itself. Harry said something to Lovegood, she'd laugh. She'd said something back to Harry, and a smile or chuckle would come out of him, filling Draco with the great need to hit something.

When the pairs separated and pulled their partners back, Harry had done so with more force than necessary, causing Lovegood slammed into him. The two stumbled, struggling to get back on their feet. Embarrassment crept into Harry's face, splashing light patches of red onto his cheeks, but it quickly melted away as Lovegood said something that made him shake his head with a small, fond smile. Grinning, more words poured from her mouth as she placed a hand against his cheek.

A hand Draco planned on chopping off in eighteen different ways.

It was either endless hours spent practicing or luck orchestrating every step that made the dance come out as flawlessly, clean-cut as it did. Sure, they were a few bumps here and there (99.9% of which came from Harry) but overall it went well.

Draco's eyes stayed on Harry from beginning to end.

After what seemed like hours, Flitwick sounded off the orchestra with a clang from the triangle. The Champions accepted the applause, bowing to the crowd and to each other.

Weasley nearly sprinted off to Granger until Patil yanked him back, pushing him over to their table.

Just as the committee outdid themselves with the décor, the elves outdid themselves with the food. Three different types of salad drizzled with dressing that was thick but not too heavy. Rice and vegetables and shrimp thrown together into a surprisingly good dish. Roasted chicken, turkey, even lamb chops. Potatoes packed with a flavor Draco couldn't name, but were a very popular dish with the crowd.

The happier Patil wasn't as easily sold on them. A frown curved her mouth as she picked at it with her fork, cutting through the skin and releasing steam into the air.

"It's not gonna bite you." Pansy said.

Patil glanced up, distrust in her eyes. Pansy rolled hers, scooping up another helping, making a show of chewing slowly before swallowing it down.

"See? It's good. Scout's honor." Pansy nudged Pati's plate closer to her.

Patil glanced at her, then over at Theo who shrugged. She hesitantly took in a bite, and then another after tasting it and realizing she was still in one piece.

"Honestly." Pansy muttered with another eye roll.

An hour later, the floor was littered with dancers, some moving gracefully, some awkwardly to the soft music pouring from the orchestra. Longbottom looked to be over the moon at the fact he managed to lead the she-weasel without tripping. Blaise surprisingly managed to keep his hands at respectable places, though Draco suspected it had to do with the sharp smiles Daphne sent him that warned of limb-loss if they moved any lower. Theo and the happier Patil were lost in their own bubble, chatting warmly, exchanging smiles.

Draco was sure if Pansy saw them, she'd happily pop that bubble. Only she steered her gaze clear of them. He wondered if it was a goal she set for herself for tonight or the fact she was basking from the attention her daring dress was giving her.

From the corner of his eye, Draco spotted Harry and Granger standing near Weasley who was still at the table, his date long gone. Judging by the frowns on the weasel and insect's faces, they were locked in an argument. Judging by the half-annoyed, half-exhausted look on his face, Harry was struggling to keep the peace.

Unable to resist the pull of potential drama, Draco danced his way over to them. Pansy followed his lead, just as curious, just as hungry.

There was enough distance between them to avoid suspicion of eavesdropping but they were close enough for their ears to make out every word of the conversation.

"He's from Durmstrang!" Weasley spat. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You're-you're-" It was quite a show to watch the weasel struggle with his vocabulary. "fraternizing with the enemy, that's what you're doing!"

Granger's mouth fell open.

"Don't be stupid!" she snapped once she retrieved her slacked jaw. "The enemy? Honestly-who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?"

A model? As in a life-size one? Dear Merlin, the weasel was actually an obsessed fangirl.

Weasley met the words with an ugly scowl. "I s'pose he asked you come with him while you were both in the library?"

"Yes, he did," said Granger, the pink patches of her cheeks glowing more brightly. "So what?"

"What happened-trying to get him to join spew, were you?"

"Ron." There was a warning laced in Harry's tone.

"No, I wasn't!" Granger protested. "If you really want to know, he-he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hasn't been able to pick up the courage!"

"Yeah, well-that's his story." said Weasley nastily.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaoff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang out with…He's just trying to get closer to Harry-get inside information on him-or get near enough to jinx him-"

"Ron, enough!" Harry demanded.

Granger placed a hand on Harry's arm, stopping him in place. She looked as though Weasley slapped her. When she spoke, her voice quivered. "For your information, he hasn't asked me one single thing about Harry, not once-"

"Really-"

Granger cut him off again. "Secondly, him asking me to the ball has nothing do with the tournament. A tournament, which let me remind you, isn't about the tasks. It's about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!"

"No it isn't!" Weasley shouted. "It's about winning!"

People were starting to stare at them.

"Ron," Harry said. "I don't have a problem with Hermione coming with Krum-"

He ignored him, snarling at the insect. "Why don't you go and find Vicky, he'll be wondering where you are."

"Don't call him Vicky!"

Granger spun on her heel and stormed off across the dancefloor, disappearing into the crowd. Weasley watched her go with a mixture of anger and satisfaction on his face.

He turned over to Harry and was surprised by the frown he received. "What?"

"I was right after all," Harry said. "You're an even bigger idiot than I thought. And a jerk."

Shaking his head, he ventured back into the dancefloor, leaving a stunned Weasley behind.

"Trouble in paradise." Pansy commented, a satisfied smile curling her lip as if she gotten her full.

Draco snorted. "More like trouble in the dump."

"Very-" Pansy was cut off by a loud, frantic scream.

Draco glanced over. A crowd was beginning to form around Theo and Patil, who was hunched over, face buried against his chest, hands gripping onto his jacket, as if she needed an anchor to keep her afloat.

"Padma!" Weasley's vanishing date reappeared, racing over to her sister.

The girl seemed set on keeping her face hidden for the rest of the night, but her sister wasn't having it. She grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her back.

What beheld the crowd ignited gasps and winces.

Patil's face had taken on a nasty, swollen-red color, completely blown up-her cheeks, her mouth, even her eyes looked as if they had taken in twenty straight punches in a row.

"Holy…" Draco muttered.

"Did you have lobster? By the gods, Padma, you know you're allergic." The girl made a low, whiny sound that was a weak plea of innocence. Fuming, the clear-faced Patil girl whirled over to Theo. "Did you give her lobster?"

"No, I didn't. She didn't even have lobster. Just some chicken, salad, pasta, and-"

Pansy gasped besides Draco, covering her agape mouth with her hand, eyes widening into saucers. "The potatoes."

Realization hit Draco. The potatoes were seasoned with a flavor he couldn't name. Now he knew why. It wasn't a seasoning used on them. It was a shellfish, one which left the worst sort of aftertaste on Patil.

She was whisked away by her sister and a professor who were taking her straight to the hospital wing. Theo took a step forward to follow and was held back by the fierce glare the other Patil shot. He watched them off, bewildered. Bewilderment that darkened to seething rage as he locked eyes with Pansy, storming over to them.

"Nott, I-"

"Just when I think you can't sink any lower, Parkinson, you manage to outdo yourself."

The shock in her eyes vanished as they flashed in anger. "You honestly think I had something to do with that?"

"Wouldn't surprise me if you did. You always find new ways to get under my skin. Wouldn't shock me at all if you decided to make Padma collateral damage just to get back at me. Merlin knows you can't stand the idea of me being happy for once."

"I-you arrogant-" Bright splotches of red spread on Pansy's face. "Don't flatter yourself, Nott! You're hardly worth the effort."

"And you're hardly worth anything!" Theo snapped.

Pansy stepped back, looking as if Theo had struck her across the face.

"You know how I keep saying the perfect gift you can give me is silence. Well, I thought of a better one. You staying out of my life. For good."

"Nott-"

Theo stormed out of the room.

Pansy had no choice but to watch him go. Her arms were crossed against her chest, deep and quick breaths moving in and out, tears pooling her eyes, her body quivering as badly as her lips.

"Pans." Draco reached out for her shoulder.

She bit down hard on her bottom lip and took off.

A part of Draco wanted to console her, keep her company, but he knew from experience it was better to leave Pansy be. At least for awhile until the worst of the storm had passed over. Seeing her before then carried the risk of being the target of that storm and end up getting stuck by a manicured-claw.

With that in mind, Draco wandered around. He chatted up with Blaise and Daphne over what happened with Theo and Pansy. Watched Crabbe and Goyle who were balancing time between keeping their dates company and grabbing more dessert. He even had the pleasure of watching McGonagall drag off by the ear amateurs trying to spike the punch bowl and Severus breaking apart couples standing too close or getting too friendly.

"If you dunderheads wish to procreate, then spare us from the revolting, stomach-churning travesty and do so in the privacy of your rooms."

Snickering, Draco helped him to the fresh batch of bacon-wrapped shrimp the serves brought out, washing it down with a glass of sparkling apple cider. He picked up another, and then caught sight of Harry, arms wrapped around Lovegood, looking so happy as they swayed to the music.

The cider churned uneasily in his stomach like rotten milk.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he was venturing into the sea of the bodies, pushing his way through. He slid in between Harry and Lovegood, breaking apart their arm-chain, smiling brightly at them.

"Mind if I cut in?"

"I-"

Lovegood smiled. "It's alright, Harry. Clearly Draco wants your attention and is impatient to get it. I'll just go help myself to some of those red velvet cupcakes and leave you two alone."

She was already gone before either one could get a word out.

"She's very-" Draco began.

Harry nodded once. "I know. She's a bit strange but she's a really cool girl."

One you seem so fond of, a voice hissed in Draco's head.

Flint and his band ended off the fast, upbeat song they were playing that made people move and jump around. The orchestra regrouped and slowed things down with a soft, slow melody that brought a sense of intimacy.

Couples swayed lightly, holding each other close. Draco glanced over at Harry, marveling at the way the candlelight reflected in his eyes, bringing out the golden specks hidden in the beautiful sea of emerald-green.

He took one step forward and offered him his hand. "Dance with me."

Only a fool would think the words were a question.

Harry was no fool though. His gaze dropped from Draco's eyes to his hand, then went back up again. His emerald-green, golden-specked eyes were filled with so many questions, thoughts; it was hard to separate one from the clutter.

Draco's lip curled. "Scared, Potter?"

Determination glowed in those eyes. "You wish."

Harry placed his hand in Draco's. Draco brushed his thumb against the soft skin and pulled him onto the dance floor.

Everything then…everything then…either because they often had to practice steps together under the critical eye of their dance instructor or because, like everything else, it was another connection that sparked between them without the need for words, another factor that simply made them them just fell into place. Draco wrapped his arm around Harry's waist. Harry laid his right hand on Draco's shoulder. Their free hands were held up, clasped together.

One step, one shared look, and they were gone.

Transported out of the ball, away from the crowd, and into a different world. One where space was infinite, time was meaningless, and it was just him and Harry. A world that was warm like a comforting blanket, as beautiful as a fresh sheet of snow covering the ground. A world where he was Draco, Harry was Harry, he was Draco's and Draco was his.

Draco made a turn, Harry followed in suit. Harry eased away, Draco pulled him right back. Doing it all without breaking the lock of their eyes.

The tempo of the music, the dramatic flair of so many layers and emotions woven into a hauntingly beautiful melody rose dramatically-as did the atmosphere between them, growing warmer and warmer. With each wail of the violin, each rift of the bass, each flutter from the flute that blended in together, the world began to spin, matching the speed of the music, making everything so dizzying, so distorted. A thrilling ride Draco never wanted to get off from.

The hand that was resting on Harry's hip slipped up, sliding into the jacket like it was seeking shelter. Harry's eyes widened but not a word of protest came out.

Boldness sweeping across his body like waves, Draco let his hand wander to the back, stroking the lower section almost lazily like he was a painter letting his paintbrush decide how they were going to proceed, moving back and forth, fingers spreading and reaching higher, reaching lower.

Harry's lips moved but it wasn't to protest. It was to clamp down his lower lip, full and soft-looking like it was filled with something sweet, to suppress a sound that was too low, too rasped for a simple sigh.

Mine.

His fingers were like spiders, crawling up Harry's spine before gliding back down.

Harry bit his lip harder.

Mine.

"Dra-"

Suddenly, silence slammed against them. The song ended and the world froze, quivering and crumbling underneath their feet. Their world that was so nice, so warm, so utterly theirs shattered into glass, plunging them back to reality.

A reality where things were too loud too crowded. A reality where the orchestra was switching things up with an upbeat rendition of Christmas Pipes, calling more dancers to the floor and for people to lend their vocals for the song.

"I-um-" Harry dropped his hands and pulled back. Draco had no choice but to take back his hand that was already missing the sweet warmth. "I better get back to Luna."

Draco didn't want him to. More than anything, he wanted him to stay. Wanted them to go back to their world. But the request sounded silly even to him, people were starting to stare, and so many thoughts collide into like flying Bludger balls.

"Okay," slipped out of his mouth before his mind caught up with it.

He watched Harry walk away, back to his date who greeted him with a bright smile and inserted herself into his arms.

The sight made every sip of cider, every bite from the feast lurched nauseatingly in his stomach. He sealed his lips to keep in the bile flooding his mouth, threatening to burst out.

"Having fun, darling?"

He had no idea how long Pansy was standing beside him until she spoke. He nearly jumped at the sound, but managed to keep his composure. He spared a glance over at her. Her lips were curved into a charming smile, but her eyes were rimmed red and glassy. He didn't comment about it. He knew he'd get a black eye or claw-marred face if he did.

"Not really." he finally answered. "You?"

"No, but," She gestured for him to step closer and flashed a peek of the item she hid behind her back. A bottle of liquor she snuck out from the refreshments. "I think I know how we can make it better."

Based on the amber color of the drink, he knew it wasn't champagne.

"Care for some fun?"

He took another glance at the bottle, then over at the dancefloor. This time Harry was laughing with and twirling around the she-weasel while Lovegood was across from them, leading Longbottom in a quick step.

He turned back to Pansy, who arched her brow at him and jiggled the bottle.

"You know what, why not?"

Draco, of course, helped himself to champagne at nearly all the balls and parties his parents hosted and been invited to. Indulged in a few glasses of wine from time to time that were spiced with flavor. But he never had anything quite like bourbon.

It was like drinking iron, searing-hot iron that burnt his throat as it went down. Hard to take in, hard to keep in. He nearly spat out the first sip.

Pansy giggled, watching him from her bed. She kicked off her heels and pulled most of the pins from her hair. She smirked at the annoyed glare he shot her. "Just pitiful."

"Like you can do better?"

Pansy reached for the bottle and poured herself a full cup in the glass timber. She tilted back her head, chugging the glass down in several large gulps, wiping her mouth clean as she set down her empty cup.

"What?" she smiled innocently at the utter astonishment written on his face. "Think a pureblood girl can't drink?"

"Show-off."

She winked.

Refusing to be shown up by anyone, Draco threw back his head and swallowed down the rest of his glass. The process wasn't as clean as Pansy's was, took much more than several gulps, but he managed to get the whole drink down and keep it inside without gagging.

"Well done, Dray." Pansy applauded for him. "A few more and you'll be drinking like a pro."

"Piss off."

She poured him another cup, then one for herself, clanking her glass against his.

The second glass was just as nasty as the first one but it was a bit easier to take in. The third glass went more smoothly, his tongue slowly adjusting to the taste. By the fourth, the drink had completely lost its hardness. After the fifth…or the sixth…or maybe the seventh-he couldn't even remember; he long lost count.

Quickly the bottle was getting less and less full, going half, then third. Drinks were chugged down. Giggles slipped from mouths, watching one trying to get the words out of their tangled tongue, attempting a hand to sound out the words, which made them laugh harder and called for more drinks.

Draco started to feel warm, too warm, the liquor floating in his stomach, swimming in his system. He got so warm that he tugged off his jacket, tossing it aside somewhere, then kicked off his shoes to get more comfortable. He even pulled off his tie and undid some of the top buttons of his shirt to relieve some of the heat.

He laid flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Pansy was lying on her side; black hair spilling over the pillow, drawing what he thought looked to be figure-eighths on the sheets. He licked his lips, still tasting the liquor on his mouth.

"This ball…" he croaked. "officially-"

"Sucks Merlin's balls?" Pansy said, getting in a quick laugh.

He was actually going to say-he was going to say…A frown tugged at his lips. Huh. He had a thought but it slipped away. Didn't matter though. What Pansy said was a pretty good answer, a very good one.

She sighed. "It's still Christmas. More time for wishes and all that." A moment of silence fell over them like a sheet, molding onto their skins, until she broken through it, saying, "You know what I hate?"

It took awhile for the question to sink into his head that felt like it was underwater. "W-what?"

"Being accused of a stupid crime you didn't do."

That was what she hated? Boring. The sound that came out of Draco's mouth was a mix between a scoff and a dry chuckle. "We're Slytherins, Pans. Being accused of something comes with the neat little green package."

Pansy shoved her hand against his shoulder. "I don't mean being accused by buttheads from the other houses. They can go to hell. Scrambled and fried. I mean-I mean…" She grabbed onto the bedspread with her fist. "Being accused by buttheads in our own house."

"Pans-"

"I wouldn't do something like that. Nott thinks he knows everything because he fucking eats books every five seconds but he doesn't. He doesn't know-he doesn't know-" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "You know what else I hate? Even more?"

"Let me guess," Draco tapped his finger against his chin. "Theo himself?"

He expected her to reply back with a loud bark of laughter and add in her own commentary on how annoying he was, to cut down the name with her usual spitfire. To his surprise, she clutched onto the bed sheet harder, curling her body into a ball.

"W-when…you have this person in your life. This person who fucking infuriates you, annoys you. And yet, for some crazy reason, they fit into your life like a puzzle. And you fit in theirs. It becomes a game seeing how far you can push them before they snap. Gaining the upper hand. Getting the last word. You love the game because it's better than anything else and you know, even though they don't admit it, they like it just as much as you do. Then suddenly things change. You don't know if it's you, if it's them, or if it's puberty just being a nasty bitch you wanna punch in the face, but…feelings hit you. You can't explain them. You can't run from them. You can't fight them. All you know is that those stupid, annoying feelings scare the living shit outta you."

The words slammed into him like punch from a stoned-fist, cutting through the warm blanket the bourbon made for him.

"You hate change. Change means complicated. Change means messy. And it's like you're being pulled in so many directions. One part of you hates feeling this way, another wishes you can just cut them outta you, another wants more than anything to pretend nothing happened and everything's the same, and another…another wants more. More of their attention. More of them altogether. And that scares you even more. What's worse is that-that you have no idea what the hell you're feeling and even less of a clue of how they feel, and-and-and it hurts like hell."

His safety blanket was torn into ribbons and he felt cold. So cold and light like a snowfall drifting wildly in the air. He shivered and took Pansy's glass that was still half-full, barely grimacing at the bitter taste as he gulped it down in a single swig.

"You know what I wish?" Pansy whispered, but it sounded more like she was talking to herself than to him.

Draco shook his head. Not that it mattered; Pansy was lost in her own world.

"I wish…that-that Theo looked at me the way...the way you look at Harry."

Way? What way? There was no way. He looked at Harry the same way he looked at everyone else (those he liked), the same way anyone looked at their best friend.

"And the way he looks at you."

Draco's breath caught in his throat, sucking the air from his chest, from his head, making the room spin. He grabbed the bottle and drank as much as he could from the mouth, feeling like he was drowning in a sea of bourbon.

"Hey! Don't hucking hog." Pansy snatched the bottle from his hands.

A chuckle burst from his mouth, drips of liquor spilling from the corners of his lip. "Hucking?"

"Shut up. You know what I mean." She drank straight from the bottle's mouth, taking in a big gulp.

"Word of the day from Pansy."

"Shut up."

Snorting, Draco laid back on the bed. He could feel her glare boring holes into his skull.

She shook the bottle. "Almost gone."

His lips curved into a frown. "Damn."

"Should've brought more." She flopped onto her stomach, the skirt of her dress a mass of tulle. After a few seconds, minutes of silence, she asked, "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What do you wish for?"

Thoughts flooded his head. Of Christmas afternoon, them playing in the snow, having so much before it was ruined by stupid Delacour and her stupid words. This evening when they were getting ready for the ball and he saw future glimpses of a man peering at him from a familiar face he knew as well as his own. Getting an up-close look at those strange glimpses when he fixed Harry's tie and his hands still stayed on his chest. When he finally separated him from his date, having Harry all to himself, and they they were lost in their own world, a barrier that kept out everything else that didn't matter.

"I wish…" Messy, pitch-black hair as dark as the night sky. Emerald-green eyes specked with gold. For them to be back in their own world. To burn the image of Harry laughing and dancing with the stupid she-weasel that played over in his head. His stomach lurched, the liquor churning uneasily. "To forget. About everything."

Especially tonight, he thought.

"Me too." Pansy murmured.

He looked at her. She looked at him.

The next thing he knew, they were face to face, chest to chest, Pansy's cherry-glossed lips crushed against his.

It was-it was-it was sticky. Sticky and wet and odd but Draco ignored that, pressing himself more against her, kissing her harder. That didn't matter-it shouldn't matter. Pansy was pretty, Pansy was willing, Pansy wanted this as much as he did. He tried to focus on the sweet scent of her perfume, the cherry flavor coated on her lips, how smooth her hair felt through his fingers, how nice her curves were.

Yet, it was as if he had a rash, a severe rash that touched every part of him, irritating every nerve. Wrong, his body cried. Wrong.

He kissed, he touched, his way of defiance against his own body and mind, trying to silence them. He wanted to forget. He was desperate to forget.

Pansy was just as desperate, just as determined. She threw her leg over him and climbed on top, straddling his waist. Draco's hands landed on her waist, going here and there, her breasts, her waist again, her back. Pansy's hands were doing their own exploring, falling onto his shirt, pulling apart the rest of his buttons. Their lips were pressed so hard together; Draco could feel his teeth bending.

The pain was good, though, a dull throb that took his mind off things. Made it easier for him to ignore the itch pricking his skin as Pansy pushed down his shirt, her hands running all over his bare skin. Urgency leaked into her lips as she grinded her hips against his, the movement failing to send electric sparks down his spine like it did before.

With a different person, a voice whispered.

Shut up! He unclasped the knot holding Pansy's dress together, shoving the material down to her waist, his hand running over bare skin that felt nice, scented with the same fragrance as her perfume. It seemed the right move to play since Pansy moved her body closer to his, a chorus of gaps and mewls chiming from her mouth.

"I wanna forget." she pleaded.

Me too, Draco thought. He grabbed hold of her waist and rolled them over, switching their positions which led to him on top and her underneath.

She looked up at him with glassy, desire-filled eyes, her naked chest rising and falling, nipples dark and hard.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, the voice chanted, making the word into a song.

Shut up! Draco fueled his annoyance into another kiss, trying to drown out the maddening itch, the taunting, the distortion by sinking into the scent of cherry dripping off her lips, her soft curves and skin, her black hair he couldn't stop playing with.

He pulled back when the need for air became too much, nearly having all the oxygen knocked out of his body.

Bright yet deep emerald green gazed up at him.

"Fuck!" he yelped, tumbling off the bed, crashing onto the floor, taking most of the blanket down with him. His poor back suffered the most from the fall, lashes of pain biting into his skin from top to bottom.

"Draco!"

He swallowed down a lump that was the size of a snitch before he looked up. Pansy's normal brown eyes stared back at him, not a hint of green in sight.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I-I…I'm sorry. I can't do this." Ignoring the pain flaring in his back, he got himself up on shaky legs and looked around for his clothes.

"What is it? Did I do something wrong?" And damn it if a hint of hurt didn't creep into her voice, digging a knife into his gut.

"The problem isn't you," he replied, slipping back on his shirt, trying to get the stupid buttons to go through the holes. "Its-it's…"

You have the wrong eye-color, the same taunting voice sang. And the wrong parts.

Shut! Up! He scowled, giving up on fixing his shirt since the stupid holes wouldn't accept the top buttons. He put back on his shoes and grabbed his jacket. He avoided looking into the mirror, knowing from the way it felt, his hair was a complete horror show.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say, all he could give before he left.

The lights out in the hallway were set low, but blinded him as if they were ten thousand-watts beams. It didn't help that his head was spinning like a toy top. He shielded his face with one hand to spare it from the bright lights, using the other to rub his head already catching hold of a migraine, and stumbled his way over to his room. A task that was turning into a mission with his eyes blurring and showing him double, causing him to knock into things like tables and walls that got in his way, his goddamn head hurting and spinning, and the nausea churning in his stomach that burnt with every step he took.

Never again, he swore. Never again would he indulge in liquor. Never would it taste his lips. Never-

"Draco."

Of course, someone would decide that they need him at a moment like this. And of course, his traitorous body would stop in place, turning over to that person.

Theo stepped into the common room. Draco must have looked worst than he thought given the way Theo's mouth fell open. "Did you-did you-" Theo glanced down the hall. "Did you just come out of Pansy's room?"

Irritation washed over him like a wave. Dear Merlin, did these two ever give it a rest? "Don't worry, Nott. I wore her out for you."

Theo recoiled as if he were punched in the gut, his jaw dropping, eyes bugging out. Draco took that as permission to move on, then broke off into a sprint as he felt nausea banging wildly against his stomach. He barely made it back to his room, into the bathroom before his stomach sent up everything he drank and ate tonight. Again and again and again.

Once his stomach was empty, he peeled his face off the cool porcelain floor, giving the toilet one last flush, and practically crawled out of the bathroom. His eyes fell on the couch that was calling him like a siren's song. He slowly walked over, kicking off his shoes, dropping his jacket onto the floor, and collapsed onto the soft cushions.

He saw the blue tin box of cookies Harry gave him this morning, his Christmas present, resting on the table with some cookies still left inside. Figuring they were the perfect solution to soothe his stomach, he picked up one but when he took a bite, his face twisted into a grimace. Apparently bourbon and cookies weren't a good combination.

He spat out the cookie, dropped the rest of it back into the box, and laid down on his stomach, staring off into space.

What a crummy, crappy night this turned out to be. He came back from the promising, wonderful Yule Ball and all he wanted to do was bash his head in to make the pain stop. Part of that could because he had more than he could chew-or drink. But it was mostly due to the fact this had been one miserable night. Not just the night, but most of the day, starting in the afternoon with his little chat with little Miss Feathers, then later on watching Harry prance around with little Demented, and then seeing him look so happy with little Miss-

Draco's train of thought ran off is course as the front door pushed open. He lifted his head up. His vision was still shite, showing him double, the room still spinning even though the speed thankfully decreased, but he was able to make out the messy dark hair and bright greens peering from the crooked glasses.

Harry's cheeks were flushed, as if he had a few cups of bourbon himself or had too fun with the dear little Lovegood or the stupid she-weasel. He stopped short at the sight of him. Draco could only imagine what he was seeing. His hair that was practically a tangled nest, his fine shirt crinkled. "What the hell happen to you?"

A snort ripped through Draco's throat. "Oh, how kind of you to notice. The great Potter humbl-humblin-humbling me with his great…" His hand that was dangling off the couch flopped around like he was trying to cast a spell. "magical presence."

Those emerald-greens rolled. "How smashed are you?"

"'m not-" A sound that was a cross between a burp and a hiccup popped out from his mouth. "'m not smashed. 'm-" Another burp-hiccup sound popped out. "'m p'ssed."

"Yea, I can tell. The liquor-ranked breath gave me a clue. And the stench on your clothes. Unless that's the smell of a new cologne you're trying to pull off."

Draco stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry.

"Charming," Harry took off his jacket and tossed it onto the couch. He rolled up his sleeves, walking over to him. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No."

"Draco."

What was he now, Father? He scowled up at him, leaning closer. "No."

"Whoa," Harry backed away, waving his hand in front of his face. "Liquor-vomit cologne, wonderful. Should I be worried about the bathroom?"

"Piss off, Pottery."

"Pottery?" Harry parroted.

He stuck his tongue out at him again.

"Okay, alright. First things first." Harry took out his wand and grabbed hold of Draco's chin, titling his head up, causing a sharp swerve of nausea to hit him. Harry's wand tapped against his bottom lip as he murmured a low spell, sending thick, strong fumes of mint that flooded Draco's mouth, nearly searing off his gums with their cool touch.

Draco jerked away from Harry's hand, nearly gagging on his breath. "Git."

"Prat," he replied back. "Trust me, you'll be thanking me in the morning for not leaving you with foul breath."

Draco made a face at him.

"Now, come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No." Draco moaned, dropping his face back on cushion.

"Yes." Harry insisted, sticking out his hand.

"No." He swatted away the hand. Well, his plan was to swat. His body instead tugged at it, pulling Harry on top of him.

"Draco, come on." Harry snatched back his hand and sat up. Draco leaped on him before he got the chance to leave, pressing most of his body weight on top of him. "Draco!"

"Stay." He closed his eyes. "At least for awhile."

Beneath his cheek, Harry's chest rose, then fell. "Fine, at least for awhile. At least your breath won't be able to kill me now."

Victory, he thought with glee, one that grew sweeter as he felt Harry's hand combing through his hair. "Read me something."

Harry let out a breath of laughter. "I would need to get a book from the bookshelf. Which means I would need to get up. And I have a feeling you won't like that."

No, he wouldn't like that all. Not one bit. Still, he tapped his arm for mocking him. "You have a big head, Potter. You must have some book parts floating in there. Plenty of space for it."

"Prat."

He tapped his arm harder.

"Alright, alright." Harry squirmed more in the couch, slinging his arm around Draco's waist, inserting his hand back into Draco's hair. "Let me see…okay…I think I have one."

Draco snuggled more against Harry's chest.

"It was from a book Mum loved called Wuthering Heights. She highlighted this part bright pink in her copy."

Draco tapped Harry's arm, a silent command to read already.

"…he's more myself than I am. Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same."

The words flowed easily from his mouth like a river stream. "What's the name of that book again?"

"Wuthering Heights."

"Say it again, those words."

"…he's more myself than I am. Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same."

"His and mine." Draco softly repeated. His and mine. Yours and mine. Mine and yours. They were basically the same song as far as he was concerned.

"Figured you'd like that part," Harry's hand swept through his hair, brushing loose strands away from his face. "The whole speech for that quote is actually sad, but my mom loved that part. I do too. It kinda reminds me of you. Of us."

Draco peeled his eyes open and looked up, finding Harry's eyes fixed on him. They were like strings pulling him up like a puppet, drawing him closer to Harry, calling on his hands to glide across his chest, up to his shoulders, onto his face,

His face that was so familiar to Draco like his own name, so familiar and yet was becoming different. Different and still beautiful. So utterly, painfully beautiful that aches danced across his chest like knives.

Why did it take so long for him to notice that?

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off by running his thumb over his lips, free from sticky gloss and chapped and softer than anything he ever touched.

"Draco."

He looked into those beautiful emeralds green, a rich shade he knew couldn't be copy, couldn't be matched, and leaned in. His lips fell onto Harry's like a snowflake finally landing onto the ground. Only instead of the snowflake melting away, it sparked into a flame. A flame that sparked in the center of his chest, glowing so brightly, before it exploded into a firestorm.

Burning.

Scorching.

Uncontrollable.

Wildfire.

He didn't have to worry about trying to make himself comfortable or force himself to relax. He didn't feel awkward or felt an itch pricking his body. One kiss, lips meeting, tongues tasting, and he was gone. Any connection to his brain was lost to him, severed and brunt to ashes. Leaving him with nothing but the need to explore. Explore the sweetness of Harry's lips, the sparks dripping off his tongue, the embers burning in his mouth.

More, his body cried. More.

"Draco." Harry whispered, his name coming out like a sacred prayer. Their hands were just as fervent as their mouths, growing more urgent, more desperate.

It was like they were back in their own little world again, where nothing else existed to them, an entire world just for Draco and Harry, with everything else burning in the wake of the fire. A world where they were a mess of hands and mouths and tongues, the fire between them brewing them growing hotter with every touch, every kiss.

Mine, his body sang while his mind was swimming. Mine!

Draco's mouth branched out to different spots-Harry's cheeks, his jaw, his collarbone, his neck. Harry's neck was becoming his favorite part to play with, salty and sweet at once, a spot that made gasps and whimpers tumble from his mouth.

Lost in the sensation, Draco rolled his hips, unleashing a new lash of fire that threatened to devour them both from the inside out, causing them to cry out.

"Draco." Harry gasped; head tilted back, nails dug into Draco's back. He rolled his hips again, longer, harder, and his name left Harry's lips like a prayer. "Draco!"

Much better, the voice purred, sounding just as drunk as him, just as hungry.

"Mine." He claimed Harry's lips in a hard, bruising kiss bound to make their lips swollen in the morning.

He felt liberated. He felt weightless. Like gravity had no power over him. And he wanted to fly. He wanted to touch the sky, touch the stars. He wanted to take off into the great unknown and for Harry to be right by his side.

His hands dropped from the shirt they were struggling to pry open to Harry's trousers, unclasping the buckle, trying to get the goddamn stupid belt off.

Then the kiss started to change. Harry started to change. His lips were retreating inside of participating, his head jerking as if he were trying to shake Draco loose.

"N-no…Draco-no-"

Only Draco wasn't ready to retreat. He wanted to fly. He wanted to touch the stars. He wanted Harry right there with him. Needed him there.

He kissed him again, trying to weaken his resistance by seeking out that glorious tongue, inviting it to come out and play as he moved his hips over and over again. For a moment, he could feel the resistance crumbling, Harry's head easing back, forfeiting control. Then as quickly it was disappeared, it came back, snapping into place.

"Draco, no!" Harry pressed his hands against Draco's hands and pushed him back hard, sending him over to the other side of the chair.

Just as it was when they danced, the beautiful world they created shattered like glass. Draco tried to mend the pieces, to take them back to the fire and stars. But when he cupped Harry's cheek and tried to catch those lips, Harry jerked back harshly.

The gesture hurt just as much as the severe "No!" that ripped through Harry's teeth, cutting into his chest like a dagger.

"You-" Draco rasped, starting over when his throat became too tight. "Don't you want this?"

Harry covered his face with his hands, taking time to think it over. After what felt like a numbingly-long century, his hands lowered to his lap. He turned over to Draco and his eyes were the darkest Draco had ever seen them, filled with too many thoughts it was almost hard to look into them. Yet Draco found that he couldn't tear himself away from their gaze.

"What I want-it…it doesn't…" Harry took in a breath that came all the way down from his toes. "It doesn't matter."

"Why?" A thought meant to be floating inside his head blurred out loud.

"The fact you're insanely drunk being one."

"Are not!" Draco argued.

"And the fact you're…you're…"

That he was what? What was he?

Whatever it was, Harry wasn't in the mood to share. Sighing deeply, he ran a hand over his face and got up, offering Draco his hand with a soft smile.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go to bed."

"But-" He wanted to be weightless. He wanted to fly. He wanted them to go to the stars. "The couch is comfy."

"But the bed is softer." Harry insisted, taking his hand.

Soon enough Draco was out of his suit and changed into pajamas, lying in bed on his side, facing the window with his back pressed against Harry's chest, Harry's arm thrown over his waist, their hands linked, legs entangled together with sheets of duvets covering them. Harry eased away from him to light up the fireplace before making his way back to Draco.

It was still snowing outside, only falling more gently. The two watched the snow fall in silence. He could feel Harry's breath growing softer and softer. His thumb brushed against Harry's hand, feeling a light squeeze in return.

"Still mine?" Draco asked in a low whisper.

For a second he was sure Harry fell asleep until he felt the bed creaking from Harry moving closer to him. He shivered from the warm breath that brushed against his chest as Harry placed a light kiss on his cheek.

"Of course I'm yours, Draco. I'll always be yours just like you'll always be mine."

The words wrapped around him like a nice, cozy blanket. Draco melted into its embrace with a sigh and smile, slowly closing his eyes.

"You're my best friend."

Draco's eyes snapped open.

Harry placed another kiss on the nape of his neck, shifted his body until he was comfortable, and drifted off to sleep.

Draco watched the snow continue to fall, trying to let air in and out of his body with a throat that was growing too tight, too dry to allow airflow.

Best friend.

Despite the fire roasting in the mantel, the layers of blankets thrown over him, Harry's body chest pressed against him, Draco felt cold. As if he were standing outside in the snow in only his pajamas, ice spreading through his system like a virus, coating every vein and nerve until his insides were completely frozen.

Best friend.

The words torn away any lingering dizziness the bourbon made for him, turning almost cold-somber.

Best friend.

A shield that protected him from the hits of fear and insecurity that tried to get through. A title he took pride in, loving the exclusivity it brought. His title that separated him from the others because they were just friends that could easily be disposable while he was the best friend, the one that was one of the kind. Irreplaceable and valuable, set on the highest bar in the pyramid.

And yet…for the first time in nine years, the words didn't comfort him as they did before.