The poem that Percutio quotes is titled "Do Not Stand by My Grave and Weep", by Mary Elizabeth Frye.
Harry and Draco stood with horrified expressions, and the Headmistress was the first to recover herself. She cleared her throat.
"Gentlemen, my office if you will."
Harry found it odd that they did not encounter a single student on the trek up to the Headmistress' tower, despite the fact that After Hours had not yet begun, and more students were likely to be wandering about to and from the library or socializing with their friends. No one spoke until they were all seated in her office.
"Headmistress, we—" Harry began, but faltered. What could he possibly say to explain?
"Let me begin by saying that with the reconstruction of the castle, certain additional defenses were initiated. Among them is a warning system which alerts us to the use of particularly dark magic," said McGonagall.
"Unforgivable curses?" Harry asked, casting a sidelong glance at Draco, who kept his face studiously impassive.
"Among them, yes," she replied.
"We weren't dueling!" Draco insisted.
"Yes, we were," said Harry. Draco whipped his head around to stare at him. "Draco and I have both joined the Dueling Club, and reminiscing about our very first duel Second Year, the banter turned to challenges. I am afraid we got a bit away from ourselves."
"I see." The Headmistress pursed her lips. "I am afraid that I must ask to see your wands."
The two wizards reluctantly withdrew their wands and placed them on her desk. Professor Onwachimba stepped forward and examined both of them before performing a Reverse Spell on each. The teachers looked up in confusion.
"I thought that you said you were dueling," said Professor Flitwick.
"Yes."
"But this shows your last spell to be a simple levitation charm, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Malfoy's to be an incantation to initiate a self-stirring cauldron."
"You didn't ask whether they were actually using wands," Dumbledore chimed in from his portrait frame.
"Ahem," Professor McGonagall gave a thin, tight smile and a curt nod. "Yes, thank you for your observation, Albus. Now then, gentlemen, the use of Unforgivable Curses still carries with it stiff penalties, including exclusion from school."
"But we didn't—" Draco began.
"Unfortunately, in the absence of incontrovertible proof, that either of you were the culprit, my hands are tied." She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "I shall simply deduct one-hundred points from Slytherin and Gryffidor, and assign you each two weeks of detention with Professor Onwachimba, and strongly caution you to confine your martial arts to the dueling field, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, ma'am." They nodded contritely.
"As to the other matter," She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "How long?"
"Since early last term," Harry replied.
"I see."
"I should conclude, based upon the incident during today's lecture, that your peers are unaware of your relationship, yes?" Professor Onwachimba asked.
"That is correct," said Draco.
"Not entirely. Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas are the only ones who know."
"Well, the faculty is not generally in the habit of intervening in the personal lives of students at Hogwarts, except where individual welfare is involved," said McGonagall. "I cannot say that I am not utterly surprised. This was hardly what I might have imagined when I read the news in The Prophet. However, please take care, gentlemen. I don't have to tell you what a hotly contested issue this has become, and I am as concerned for your welfare as any other student. As such, I am curious—"
"Madame," Draco interrupted her. "No one was heretofore aware of my sexual disposition at the start of term. I sincerely doubt that to be the reason for the assault on my person aboard the train."
"I hope that we can depend upon your discretion, Professor," said Harry.
"Of course." The professors all assented.
"They caught you!" Dean and Seamus stared incredulously at Harry as they sat in a corner near the back of the Abraxan and Dragon. The landlord approached the table with mugs of lager.
"Let's not make this a habit, my friends. I'm supposed to report students in town during lecture hours."
"Thanks, mate." Harry stacked a small pile of Galleons on his tray and raised a brow. Percutio gave him a conspiratorial wink.
"But what happened? Why did you suddenly run out of the room like that?" Dean asked.
"I, erm—I just had a feeling that I should go to him," Harry evaded.
"Yeah, okay," said Seamus, unconvinced.
"I think someone might be stalking Draco," Harry blurted.
"Seriously? How do you know?"
"Because, there's been at least three other incidents since the train," he said.
"No way!" Dean and Seamus leaned in closer.
"Someone left him a threatening note while he was still in the Infirmary. Then, there was the day he found my mementos. He seemed harassed when he first arrived at my room, like he'd been in a fight. And…McGonagall and the others discovered us because the castle had alerted them to the casting of an Unforgivable Curse."
"Did you see anyone?" Seamus asked.
"No, but I think Draco knows who it is, and he's afraid to say." Harry took a long swig of beer.
"Why?"
"I don't know. Listen, the thing is—well Lucius horribly abused Draco. He bullied and terrorized him and his mother into supporting the Death Eater cause, and Riddle's return did nothing to help his situation, except to hold his feet to the fire. You can't tell anyone that I told you this!" he insisted. They nodded vigorously. "I think it's why he's so nervous and jumpy. It's definitely why I don't think he's ready for the world to know about us. I think whoever this witch or wizard is, they know his weaknesses and they're exploiting that."
"What are you going to do, Harry?"
"I don't know, but when I find out who it is, they're going to pay dearly."
"So, would you classify this as a major improvement over your last treatment?" Draco asked. He sat cross-legged in front of his fireplace, he made specific notes as a self-writing quill dictated his conversation.
"Oh, yes! Yes, definitely!" the head in the flames bobbed enthusiastically as the young wizard spoke. "Usually, I can barely get out of bed in the beginning. I still found myself a bit…anxious maybe? I brought a mirror along because I wanted to observe any outward physical signs, but I fell asleep."
"I see," said Draco. "And when you woke next, was there anything different?"
"I was immediately alert and focused, and definitely without the malaise," he replied.
"I think that is a positive note."
"Is it really?" the other wizard asked.
"Absolutely. I wouldn't necessarily call it an unequivocal success just yet, but it is in keeping with my hypothesis and with what has been reported by my other test subjects. Erm, do you think that next time you might be able to take photos? Before, and after, including of your environment?"
"I don't know. I think I know someone who might be willing to loan me a camera. If I can, I'll definitely try. I—Mr. Malfoy, I am really excited to be helping you with your research. You don't know how long I've hoped for something like this to help wizards like me."
"Well, I truly appreciate your assistance Mr. Lowe. I do sincerely hope that our trial provides us with the evidence we need to move forward. Shall I owl the next treatment to the same location?" Draco asked.
"Yes, I'll let you know if anything changes."
"Very good." There was a knock at the door. "I'm afraid someone is calling. I'll have to go now."
The other wizard's face disappeared from the flames and Draco got to his feet, collecting his notes and stowing them in a leather folio, upon which he cast a security charm. He entered the office and opened the door to find Professor Slughorn turning away.
"Ah, Malfoy! For a moment I thought you might be out."
"No, sir. Forgive me, I was just wrapping up a fire call with Mr. Lowe. Thank you for arranging the floo connection. It has made completing my field interviews much simpler." Draco stepped back to allow him to enter.
"Yes, yes, of course. And your research is proceeding apace?" the professor asked as he browsed the shelves of potions ingredients, picking up a jar now and then.
"It is. I have seen some rather promising results already. I believe that if the next two rounds are successful, I may have a working formula. Mr. Lowe is particularly excited about his results. I have to double check my notes, but I've noticed a similar level of efficacy with those subjects under the age of twenty-five."
"Excellent! Excellent! I must say, I rather had my doubts when I first read your proposal. It seemed incredibly farfetched to say the least! You realize that if your potion is indeed proven to be successful, you are in a position to make wizarding history!" Slughorn pronounced, rocking on his heels.
"Well, let us not get ahead of ourselves, sir. Nonetheless, I do hope this proves useful." Draco demurred. "Was there something you wished to discuss with me, Professor?" Draco was anxious to record his findings and examine the data.
"Oh, yes—well, not I, exactly. Professor McGonagall flooed and requested that you report to her office immediately."
Draco shook off the foreboding shiver that tracked up his spine and secured his quarters. He hastened to the Headmistress' tower and paused nervously before the gargoyle at the entrance after giving the password.
"Go on, then." The statue spoke in a gravelly voice. "I haven't got all day."
Draco mounted the moving stairs, wishing that they climbed a little faster, and at the same time, fighting the urge to sprint back in the other direction. Finally, they reached the top and he rapped perfunctorily on the door.
"Enter!"
"You wanted to see me, Head—Mother? What are you doing here?"
"So, Dean an' me, we've had a talk, and we've come to a decision," said Seamus.
"About what?" Harry adjusted his gloves and scarf as they trekked back to the castle.
A light snow was falling, and a few students with free time had engaged in a snowball war. Ice fortifications hid piles of enchanted snowballs which sailed back and forth through the air. Some exploded as they smashed against shield charms, or were hit with other spells. Harry cast a Reductor curse as a particularly large snowball hurtled towards them. The icy bludger exploded into a fine shower of snow.
"We're in love," said Dean.
"No kidding?" Harry sarcastically replied. "Tell me something I don't know."
"Yeah, well, we decided tha' we don't really care anymore who knows." Seamus grabbed Dean's hand as they entered the castle.
"Okay, now that, I didn't know. You're not doing this because of me, are you?" Harry asked. They strolled along leisurely, only grudgingly noting the clock's chime, alerting them that Charms would begin shortly.
"Blimey! He really fancies himself that special, innit?" Dean grinned. "It's just—well, you noticed that clearly my family has already figured it out." Harry nodded. "And we're just tired of sneaking around. I've personally had enough of hiding out during the war."
"Me too. It doesn't matter about pureblood sentiment. Their lot is hardly the majority any more. This is the wizarding world—it's our world! We can live so much more freely than muggles. I mean, we only came close to dying for the right of all wizardkind to coexist! I want to enjoy me life! I want to celebrate survivin'. I want to get married!" Seamus proclaimed.
"Y-you—you do?" Dean stopped in his tracks. Harry stared at them, astounded. "Is—are you—are you proposing?"
"Of course not, 'cushla!" Seamus pulled an exasperated face. "That's your job—and there'd better be an awesome ring!"
Dean laughed and pulled Seamus in for a kiss. Harry shook his head. The clock chimed the hour and they hurried off to class.
"Mother, what's going on?" Draco asked, rushing to Narcissa. Her face was pale and drawn, and he couldn't help noticing that she was playing with her pearls—a habit he knew meant that she was nervous.
"Please, sit down, Mr. Malfoy." Professor McGonagall gestured to the seating area where he'd gathered with her and Madam Pince when Snape's will was read. "Shall I give you some privacy, Narcissa?"
"Thank you, Headmistress. It's alright." She shook her head.
"Mother?" Draco implored. "What is it?" Narcissa passed him a parchment. He immediately recognized the Ministry seal at the top.
We regret to inform you of the death of Mr. Lucius Malfoy on 10, February, 1999. Please inform immediately your wishes for his remains.
Sincerely,
A. Dunkle,
Administrator, Azkaban Prison
"He's dead?" Draco asked.
"Yes, love." Narcissa patted his hand. "I'm sorry."
"What are you sorry for, Mother? We are free. We are finally, and totally free." Draco shrugged.
"Yes," she said softly.
"The letter wants to know what to do with his remains," he said.
"Well, that is why I am here. You are now the Lord of the Manor. The decision is yours to make."
"But, I don't care. Let them bury him on the island or toss his body into the sea. I never want to gaze upon him again."
"Draco."
"I mean it, Mother. He is unfit for a proper burial. Let him rot on the rocks the way he left so many in his wake." His expression was cold as he spoke.
"Alright then. We'll allow them to bury him on Azkaban."
"Fine."
"If you need some time, Mr. Malfoy—" Professor McGonagall began.
"I am fine, Headmistress. Will you be alright, Mother?" he asked.
"Yes, my love. I…I had been considering the notion of returning to Mexico until Spring. It was so lovely there at Palacio de Plata. I hope that is alright with you."
"By all means! You needn't ask permission, Mother. You are free." He squeezed her hands. "You are free!"
The moment Harry sat down, Hermione and Ron pounced, leaning over their desk.
"Were they holding hands?" Hermione whispered.
"Yup," Harry removed fresh parchment and a quill from his bag.
"Wait a minute! You mean—" Ron's eyes grew large.
"Yup!"
"Since when?"
"Ages ago," Harry said.
"What do you mean ages ago?" Ron demanded. Seamus turned around.
"Since your sister gave Dean his P-45! Whisper a little louder next time!"
"What's a P-45?" Ron asked.
"It's a colloquialism for the sack," Hermione replied as Professor Flitwick took his pedestal and began his lecture.
"Where's Malfoy?" Ron asked, scanning the room. "He's not really one to miss class."
"I don't know," Harry shrugged. "He's been in the dungeons all morning."
"How do you know that?" Hermione asked.
"Overheard him talking to Slughorn just after breakfast." Harry lied. She gave him a suspicious look, and he studiously focused his eyes on his notes.
As if he'd been summoned, Draco entered the room a few seconds later. He approached Professor Flitwick, and showed him a note. The tiny Charms instructor gave him a sympathetic look and they had a whispered conversation, in which Draco shook his head in the negative several times. Finally, Flitwick shrugged and directed him to his seat.
Draco scanned the room, relieved to find a seat between Lucian and Theodore, who sat behind Blaise.
"Tardiness; that's not like you, Malfoy," whispered Lucian. He pointed his charm, and the porcelain figurine on his desk began to pace back and forth.
"Clearly subtlety is not your strong suit. If you want to know where I was, why don't you just ask?" He pointed his wand at the brass Buddha statue in front of him. The tiny fat man stood and bowed to Lucian's figurine.
"As if you'd actually share," said Theodore.
"Whatever." Draco's Buddha sat down ungracefully, and knocked his parchments to the floor. He summoned them to his hand, and Lucian grabbed the last one.
"Ministry letterhead?" He read aloud. "We regret to inform you of the death of—"
Draco snatched the letter from his hand.
"Need I remind you that it is a crime to open other people's correspondence!" he snapped.
"Who died?" Theodore asked.
"Lucius Malfoy." Draco stuffed the letter into his satchel.
"Your father is dead?" Lucian brashly responded.
"What?" Several students turned in their direction.
"Oh, Draco!" Pansy exclaimed.
"How awful!" Daphne added.
"I'm sorry to hear that, mate," Theodore patted Draco's shoulder.
"Well, good for you all," Draco grumbled. "Because I'm not." He got to his feet. "May I be excused, Professor?"
"Take all the time you need, Mr. Malfoy." Professor Flitwick nodded, and turned back to the lesson. "Miss McCoy, it's PY-air-TOH-tuhm. Toh, not tah."
Harry fought the urge to follow him, and anxiously awaited the conclusion of the lesson, hurrying from the classroom without speaking to anyone. He ducked into the nearest empty room and retrieved the Marauder's Map, searching for Draco's dot. It was nowhere to be seen. Harry stuffed the map into his pocket and set off for the seventh floor. He began to pace in front of the dancing trolls tapestry.
"I need to be in the room where Draco is hiding."
An ornate door appeared, and he pushed it open. The room was opulently decorated. Dark paneling and tall bookcases covered the walls. The floor was covered with a luxurious Oriental rug, and a large desk sat in the center. Draco swiveled around in the leather executive chair.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he said. "The Right Honorable, the Earl of Salisbury." He gave a regal wave. Harry stood, staring at him.
"Draco, I—"
"This is his study," Draco continued as if he hadn't spoken. "We were forbidden to enter without his permission of course—even Mother. Naturally, that made it even more tempting. Perseus and I pretended that it was a dark fortress. When he went away, we sneaked in to play. One time, he came home unexpectedly, and we had to scarper quickly. Perseus dropped one of my dragons."
"Firestone," Harry murmured, recalling the dream in which Lucius water boarded his own young son.
"What?"
"Hm? Nothing."
"There are secret compartments hidden all over this room." Draco began to flick his wand. Panels opened on the front of the desk. Bookshelves dropped out of sight. Wall panels slid back. There were parchments and wands, numerous evil-looking artefacts, all tucked away in each recess and opening. "The Ministry raided time and again, looking for dark artefacts. Eventually, he hid them all beneath the drawing room, until The Dark Lord took over and turned the Manor into his base of operations. When it became a holding cell, most of the items were placed into the vault, except these."
"Draco—" Harry began. He started towards him, and Draco stood, but he brushed past Harry as he began to stalk slowly around the room.
"They have blood on them, you know." Draco blasted apart a small figurine. "Each and every one of them was used to destroy someone—some, whole families." Draco flung another curse, shredding a pile of rolled parchments. "The plans for the bridge collapse were in that one."
He moved methodically around the room, recounting the horrid misdeeds that Lucius and the Death Eaters had perpetrated.
"Draco, please, don't," Harry begged. Draco summoned a necklace that looked dull, as if the plating had begun to rub away. Harry immediately recognized the magical device.
"This one's my favorite!" Draco drawled, holding up the time-turner. "Fortunately, it didn't work properly, so he never used it. Supposedly, it defies the hour-reversal restriction. You can go anywhere in time! He could have gone back and destroyed you before you were even born!"
Draco hurled the time-turner against the wall, smashing it, and sending a tiny blue mist spiraling from its remains. He continued to destroy the artefacts.
"He lied, he stole, and he orchestrated people's deaths! He killed my brother! He killed me!"
"What? Draco, no! My god, what are you doing!" Harry screamed as Draco conjured a silver dagger. "Draco please! If you kill yourself, he wins!" Harry pleaded as Draco lifted the knife, holding it next to his throat, and gathered his pale hair. "Draco! Expel—"
Draco slashed, and the platinum locks that had once cascaded over his shoulders came away in his fist. Harry's knees buckled, and he collapsed. Draco dropped the hair and blade and went to Harry.
"No one knows the real Draco Malfoy. That wizard died when he was six years old. He died the day he took my best friend away forever."
Harry grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently. Draco's eyes grew wide with fear.
"Don't you ever fucking do that again!" Harry screamed. Draco scrambled away when he released him, cowering in a corner.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I can fix it!"
"Oh, my god!" Harry whispered in shock, realizing what he'd done. "Draco, I—" he stepped forward, and Draco shrank back even more.
"Please!" he begged, weakly.
"Draco, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." Harry apologized. "I thought you were—I'm so sorry. I—" Harry knelt down and reached out his hand. He took a breath and exhaled slowly.
The room transformed from the dark and forbidding office into a comfortable, light-filled chamber with an inviting sitting area.
"You have not known what you are-you have slumber'd upon yourself all your life. Your eye-lids have been the same as closed most of the time. What you have done returns already in mockeries. Your thrift, knowledge, prayers—if they do not return in mockeries, what is their return? The mockeries are not you. Underneath them, and within them, I see you lurk. I see you, Draco Malfoy."
Several moments passed before Draco finally got slowly to his feet and took Harry's outstretched hand.
"I'm so, so sorry, my love. I was frightened and startled, but that is no excuse." He gently pulled Draco into his arms and stroked his sheared hair. "Why did you do it?"
"Look at me, Harry. All they see when they look at me is him. They see an evil, murderous, conniving dark wizard who destroyed their lives, tore apart their families, and took their friends away from them. They don't see me. They never saw my fear, my pain, my imprisonment—not in Azkaban—in here!" He beat his chest. "Why couldn't I have looked like Perseus? He was so beautiful. He was so perfect! I hope Lucius rots in the deepest, darkest pits of Tartarus!"
"You have to let him go, Draco. You must, or else it will destroy you too."
"I wouldn't even know where to begin," Draco sighed.
"Maybe I can help."
The Hogsmeade business district was teeming with activity. Storefronts were festooned with red and pink buntings. Tiny cupids fluttered in windows. Young witches dragged reluctant wizards into Madam Puddifoot's Tea Room, while Honeydukes did a brisk business with lines practically out the door. There was also a fair crowd at the flower stall in front of the Magic Neep, and Weasley's saw a number of customers exiting with gift boxes.
"Draco?" Draco turned at the sound of his voice being called, just as he exited Dervish and Banges. "Draco is it really you?" Astoria waved at him and he smiled.
"Astoria." He gave her a slight bow.
"You cut off all your hair!" she exclaimed, falling into step with him.
After his meltdown, and rash removal of his long tresses the previous afternoon, Draco had returned to something of his pre-war style. His hair was neatly cut, but rather than slicked back, as was his original look, he swept his bangs to the side. He also sported the dusting of stubble that Harry admired so much. With his glasses, Harry had commented that Draco appeared like a rogue genius.
"Oh, well, yes. I had a bit of a mishap with a cauldron flame." He shrugged.
"I like it. You look dashing." She smiled. He blushed. "I erm…I heard about your father," she said.
"Yes, it was rather unexpected. One might have hoped that he would spend years rotting away and sinking into a slow and agonizing death."
"Oh, my word!" Astoria exclaimed.
"Forgive me, Astoria. That was rather vulgar of me. Only, make no mistake, Lucius was sent away for a reason. I find it difficult to muster very much in the way of grief for him."
"Oh, yes, I suppose I can understand that," she conceded. "Will you be up to attending the ball tonight?" she asked.
"Honestly, I don't know. I suppose a bit of revelry might do me some good." Draco shrugged. "I've quite a bit of data to examine for my research."
"So much study!" She shook her head with disapproval. "Numbers and figures are not the answers to everything, Draco."
"But I'm so very close to what I think is a breakthrough. It's absolutely fascinating! Sometimes I find it hard to tear myself away."
"Well, you've certainly been very cloak and wand about it all. I never realized that your love for Potions ran so deep. Mind you don't wind up like our Snape. I always wondered if he'd ever been in real love."
"I have it on good authority that he had been in love once," Draco replied with a slight smile.
"Really? Well, I should warn you that Lucian Boles will be escorting Pansy to the ball. She was very put out that you hadn't bothered to ask her."
"And no doubt, still smarting over us attending the film together last term." He rolled his eyes. Astoria blushed. "And who will you be attending the ball with?" he asked.
"I shall be going on my own. Daphne was downright scandalized when I told her. She actually owled home to Mother about it. However, I'd rather not confine myself to speculation as to whether I am auditioning a potential suitor for courtship."
"How very independent! I applaud you, Miss Greengrass."
"Shall I save you a dance, then?" she asked. "In case you decide to attend, of course."
"A rose for the lovely witch?" asked a flower girl. "Only two Sickles."
"I'll take the lot!" he declared, giving the girl two Galleons, and gathering the bouquet of flowers. Draco presented them to an astonished Astoria. He lightly kissed her cheek. "You are a beautiful soul, Astoria. Never lose that."
"Oi! I'll not say it again, mate! No rooms available for students! Hogwarts mandate!" Percutio pointed his wand and illuminated a sign that hung above the stairs.
"Need a hand with the glasses, love!" Sabryna called out, carrying a large tray, stacked with mugs and pilsners. He waved his wand, and the glasses immediately flew to their respective shelves and racks.
The Abraxan and Dragon was filled to capacity with couples of all ages, sitting closely together, and holding hands beneath the table. Harry sat at the bar nursing a glass of brandy.
"No special someone for the Boy-Who-Lived?" the barman asked, wiping down the bar top.
"Oh, there's someone special," Harry replied. "We just prefer to keep things private at the moment."
"Must be difficult with the press dogging your every move," said the other wizard.
"You have no idea."
"So, I guess you won't be putting in an appearance at the big do I keep hearing about. Rumor has it that Toil and Trouble will be performing."
"Yeah. I think they tried to get the Weird Sisters again, but they had a scheduling conflict. Personally, I think there was some concern surrounding the gossip that there might be something between me and Heathcote Barbary." Harry rolled his eyes. Percutio chuckled. Harry looked at him curiously.
"What is it?"
"I—I can't quite put my finger on it. You still remind me of someone. I just don't know who."
"That's funny. You know, someone else came in here and said I looked like—who was it—your uncle?"
"Godfather," said Harry.
"Right. Right. Red haired bloke. Came in not long before Christmas. He was right rat-arsed. I had to chuck him out."
"That'd be Bill Weasley."
"You know him then?"
"He's my mate's brother. Bill's a good sort. He got into a nasty scrap with a werewolf Fenrir Greyback during the war. Fortunately, he wasn't transformed at the time, but Bill still suffers some symptoms of lycanthropy, makes him intolerant to alcohol."
They heard a squeal of excitement, and turned around. Astoria Greengrass had entered, carrying a bouquet of roses.
"Who gave you these?" her friends demanded.
"Draco Malfoy," she replied. The girls all giggled again. Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to the bar.
"She certainly seems to be enamored of this Malfoy bloke. I must admit, I'm surprised. Everyone seems to know him, but it doesn't appear that he gets out much. I would never have thought he might have a girlfriend."
"He doesn't," Harry said, brusquely.
"Oh?" the barman gave him an inquisitive look.
"He and Astoria are close, but they're only friends." Harry drained his glass.
"Close—like the two of you?" he prodded.
"Close enough, I suppose."
"The way I understand it, the two of you weren't always very close at all." He refilled Harry's glass.
"No, we weren't. Sworn enemies, almost from the start. I didn't agree with his ideology back then—well, what I thought was his ideology."
"Must've been difficult. I saw in The Prophet that his father has died."
"Yeah. I understand that Lucius was exceptionally unkind to his family, some might say cruel even." Harry drank.
"That's terrible."
"I couldn't begin to imagine. Honestly, I think he and his mother are quite relieved to be rid of him. There won't be a funeral."
The barman pulled a thoughtful expression.
"Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, and learn, too late, they grieved it on its way."
"That's from a poem, is it not?" Harry asked.
"Written by a muggle named Dylan Thomas. Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night."
"Rage, rage against the dying of the light." Harry said.
"That's the one. You are well read."
"Not really." Harry shrugged. "My friend, Hermione loves books. When we were on the run during the war, sometimes I would borrow one or two, just to help me clear my mind of more maudlin musings. The poetry was best for that."
"You have a favorite?"
"Hmm… 'Not I, nor anyone else can travel that road for you. You must travel it by yourself. It is not far. It is within reach. Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, and did not know. Perhaps it is everywhere - on water and land.' Walt Whitman"
"Ah. That seems rather appropriate for the one who has conquered such a great foe."
"What about you then?" Harry asked. "Is Dylan Thomas your go-to bard?"
"Thomas is good, but there is a poem—it's by an American woman. 'Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep. I am in a thousand winds that blow, I am the softly falling snow. I am the gentle showers of rain, I am the fields of ripening grain. I am in the morning hush, I am in the graceful rush of beautiful birds in circling flight, I am the starshine of the night. I am in the flowers that bloom, I am in a quiet room. I am in the birds that sing, I am in each lovely thing. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there. I did not die.'"
Harry was speechless. He stared at the publican for a moment. Again, he was struck by his aristocratic looks and sharp features. He was pulled abruptly from his thoughts when the other wizard began to speak again.
"I know it seems a bit mawkish, but…"
"It seems appropriate for someone who has once lost his original family."
"I suppose so. Perhaps someday, I shall replace it with something more joyful."
Strains of music could be heard before students arrived in the Entrance Hall, and many were gathered about the base of the Marble Staircase. Some were awaiting their escorts, while others loitered about to see who was arriving with whom. The Great Hall itself was bedecked in silver and gold. Vibrant bouquets of red and pink roses adorned the center of each round table. A lavish buffet was laid at one side of the room, and the staff table had been removed to make space for the band. A large area for dancing was designated in front of this.
"You look amazing!" Ron sighed as he escorted Hermione into the Hall. She wore robes of crimson satin, with a sweep train and a ruched bodice adorned with a golden filigree sash. The sleeves were the same golden lace, criss-crossed with the scarlet fabric. She wore her hair in a fitting updo, that cascaded in a tumble of curls, gently framing her face. She blushed, and smiled, brushing Ron's hair away from his face.
"You certainly look more comfortable this time around," she replied. Ron was handsome in new dress robes and a waistcoat that matched her dress, the gleaming Order of Merlin medal hung from a ribbon about his neck. "Oh, my gosh! Look!"
Ron turned around to see Seamus and Dean entering the Great Hall hand in hand. They wore dress robes with matching silk jacquard waistcoats. Several students stared openly and pointed as they began to dance.
"Well, the cat's out of the bag, now, yeah?" Dean said.
"Indeed. Ye think they'll blame Potter?" Seamus asked.
"Longbottom certainly will. Look at him and McLaggen over there whispering."
"Yeah, and Hannah doesn't seemed too thrilled about it at all. I heard her tellin' Susan Bones that she an' Neville'd had a rather heated row about the way he was treatin' Harry."
"Yeah?"
"She didn't speak to him for nearly a week!"
Draco smoothed the lapels of his robes and adjusted his cravat. He'd originally considered the dress robes of ice gray Mikado fabric, his mother gave him for Christmas to be an unnecessary extravagance. He doubted the likelihood of being invited to many social events now that the war had ended, but he decided to heed Astoria's words and put in an appearance, lest the gossips think he was hiding away. He turned about in front of the mirror. His waistcoat was black and silver woven jacquard fabric, and the top robes featured inverted pleats at the waist and intricately embroidered with black poplar catkins around the hem and cuffs.
"I shouldn't go," he said to himself. "Who cares what everyone else thinks." He reached up to untie his cravat when he caught a glimpse of Harry's mother's photo on the mantelpiece over his shoulder.
She gave him a look that was a mixture of exasperation and disappointment, her arms crossed.
"Don't look at me like that. I don't know that he's even going to be there, and if he is, it isn't like we'll even get to share a dance."
Lily Potter pursed her lips and gave him a pointed look.
"Fine! Fine! I'll go." He threw up his hands. Lily Potter smiled, and Lily Evans clapped as he swept out of the room.
"Draco! You decided to come!" Astoria exclaimed when he emerged from the dungeons.
"You talked me into it," he said, giving her a smile. "May I escort you inside?" he offered her his arm.
Harry sipped his punch and slouched in his seat as he watched the other students dance. He shared a table with Dean and Seamus, Ron, and Hermione. Ginny had initially joined them, but she left after Ron made one too many snarky comments directed at Gael, but not before she'd happily taken a turn about the floor with Harry.
"Well, there's a surprise!" announced Seamus. "Didja know about that, Harry?"
"What?" Harry looked in the direction that they pointed, and saw Draco entering the Great Hall with Astoria on his arm. "Oh, no idea." He tried to hide his surprise and envy as he watched them take the floor.
"Draco, please forgive me if I am being intrusive, but I there's something I've rather been wishing to ask you," Astoria said as they danced.
"Oh?"
"It's only that—well, you and Pansy—Daphne says the two of you were practically promised to one another when you were still in nappies."
"Mother and Father socialized quite a bit with the Parkinsons, and there were always hints of a match between Pansy and myself." They turned and Draco caught a glimpse of Harry sitting with Dean and Seamus. He quickly turned again, unable to meet his gaze.
"But you're not interested in her really, are you?" Astoria asked.
"Well, it's just that Pansy can be a bit tiresome, and frankly, things are not as they once were. I don't know that we share the same ideals any longer." Draco began to wish that the song would end. He was growing uncomfortable with this line of questioning, but he didn't want to be rude to Astoria.
"Draco, I like you—" she began.
"Astoria—"
"Truth be told, at one time, I was a bit gaga over you." Astoria blushed. "Daphne said my infatuation was unseemly. However, I've come to notice that you seem to have eyes for someone else."
"I—you d-do?" Draco faltered as the song came to an end. They accepted drinks from a passing house elf as they sat down. "Erm, Astoria—"
"You should follow your heart Draco. Most of us won't have much say in who our families choose for us. Don't be like Daphne and Blaise. You might not wind up as lucky as Millicent and actually like the person your parents choose. Personally, I'd rather be a spinster than wind up in a loveless marriage. You're Draco Malfoy! You're one of the smartest, wealthiest wizards in all of England. Who cares what anyone else thinks!"
"Really, Tori! I thought you said that you didn't have an escort for the ball!" Daphne gave her sister an angry look.
"I didn't, Daphne! Draco and I simply happened upon one another as we were arriving, and he escorted me inside! Don't you have more pressing matters to worry about?" She nodded her head towards the corner where Seth Flint was standing intimately close to Thomasina MacMillan as they chatted. Daphne frowned and flicked her wand. The other witch's glass suddenly shattered, spilling punch all over the front of her gown. She let out a shriek and rushed from the Hall. "That was uncalled for, Daphne. She wasn't the problem!"
"And now she won't be, either!"
"Oh, my word!" Hermione grimaced. Her friends followed her gaze. "Zabini's being awfully handsy with Hester."
The watched as the two Slytherins appeared to be doing more grappling than actual dancing. Hester, continually admonishing Blaise to keep his hands in a respectful position, while he insisted upon pulling her close, and sliding his hands over her bottom. Blaise leaned in and nipped her neck. Hester shoved him away. He pulled her roughly to him, and she wrenched away, slapping him before storming out. He angrily went after her.
"Merlin!" Dean exclaimed.
"She should've hexed 'im!" Seamus lifted his glass, and Dean, Hermione and Ron touched theirs to his. "Harry?"
"Hm? What? Oh." He turned his attention to them, lifting his glass belatedly.
"Oh, that is just pathetic!" Seamus shook his head.
"It really is!" Dean agreed. "Just go talk to him!"
"No," Harry said, firmly. "I promised that we would let it be his decision. It's not like the two of you. Once it's out, the whole world will be watching." He sipped his punch, wishing that he had something stronger. "It'll be fine. We made plans to get together later on."
"Well, I still say, who cares what they think."
Astoria and Daphne continued to argue, and Draco watched his other colleagues. Pansy and Lucian made an elaborate show of being interested in one another. Yatin Bhagat was paying little attention to his date, as he kept a keen watch over his sister and her date, while Rashne Khan made the rounds of nearly every unattached witch in the room. Hester slapped Blaise and fled the Hall.
"You see what I mean?" Astoria pointed. "He doesn't even respect her!"
"That's Hester's fault!" Daphne insisted. "She'll make him behave if she wants a proper pureblood marriage. Mother says—"
"Mother is wrong! A relationship is nothing without love! Who cares what everyone else thinks!" Astoria proclaimed.
Draco found his gaze locked on Harry's. Harry was his heart's desire. Harry loved him in spite of his hurts, habits and hangups.
"Who cares what everyone else thinks!" he whispered.
"Wanna dance, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"No, I'm alright. You go on with Ron." He gave her a smile.
"I'll dance with you, Harry!" Seamus wagged his brows and grinned devilishly. Harry gave him an exasperated look, and he feigned disappointment. "Ah, turned down by the Savior of the Wizarding World! Whatever shall I do?"
"Oh, come on then, you silly article!" Dean pulled him to his feet and onto the floor.
Harry rested his chin on his fist and traced a finger over the top of his glass. He questioned his decision to attend the dance at all. He'd really wanted to suggest another getaway to the city, but then Lucius had died, and he feared that everyone might notice their absence this time around. The music changed tempo as the band began to perform their latest release. Harry watched as Draco stood, and placed a kiss on Astoria's cheek.
"You're absolutely right, Astoria." Draco stood.
"I am?"
"She is?" Daphne echoed.
"Yes. Who cares what everyone else thinks. It's our lives and it is better to enjoy it while we have it. Thank you, Astoria." He leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek.
"You know, I think that bump on his head really did some damage," Daphne declared.
"Oh, shut up, Daphne! I wonder who he's going after."
"There's nobody over there but Gryffindors!" Daphne pointed out.
"Merlin's hat!" they exclaimed together.
Harry sat up straighter as it seemed that time had begun to move in slow motion. He blinked several times to assure himself that he was not hallucinating. Draco was actually crossing the room in his direction.
Draco's heart thudded in his chest. It seemed that the expanse between them had suddenly become endless as he crossed the room. He knew that Astoria and Daphne were watching and soon every eye in the Great Hall would be upon him for better or worse. This time, however, he knew that he wouldn't have to weather the storm alone. He locked eyes with Harry, who stood as he approached.
"Hi," he smiled weakly.
"Hi." Harry bit his lip. He kept his hand on the table to prevent himself from falling over, as he suddenly felt lightheaded. "You look amazing!"
"So do you. The medal is quite a regal touch." He indicated Harry's Order of Merlin First Class.
"Oh, erm. Thanks."
"Harry, would you do me the honor of a dance?" Draco gushed. His cheeks reddened.
"I—what—really?"
"Yes, really. May I have this dance, Mr. Potter?" Draco spoke more slowly and confidently this time. He gave a courtly bow and held out his hand.
"I would be honored, Mr. Malfoy." Harry bowed in return and took his hand.
A hush fell over the crowd as they made their way to the floor and began to dance.
"Bloody hell! ...This can't be happening! …Malfoy?...No way! …Merlin! …Holy cow! …I knew I should've brought a camera! …What about Heathcote Barbary? …Wait till Rita Skeeter finds out!" Murmurs and speculations went up all over the room.
"Whoo-hoo! Har-ry!" Dean and Seamus cheered and clapped.
"Merlin and Morganna!" Ron exclaimed. "Mum's gonna have a kitten!" he said as they passed.
"Congratulations, Harry and Draco!" Luna called as they passed.
"Everyone's looking at us," said Harry. "Are you ready to be front page news?"
"It'll hardly be the first time," Draco replied, pulling him closer and touching their foreheads. "Who cares what everyone else thinks."