Harry Potter and the Year he Broke Free

(AN: Lotta Drarry in this one, I've gotta warn you. Hope you enjoy!)

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Ball

He grabbed a butterbeer off a nearby table, pressing the bottle to his lips and bobbing slightly to the beat. He decided he rather liked the theme of this year's ball more than the last one; it just felt a lot warmer and more... Hogwarts. It was fairly simple, just candles floating in mid-air and the large house tables that usually took up the wide expanse of floor had vanished, instead replaced with small tables dotted around the edge with drinks on and chairs for exhausted dancers.

Harry had gotten past the security at the door by just apparating in, the deafening crack that came with it being swallowed up by the loud music and even louder dancers. This year, instead of the dance being restricted for the younger years they had another one a few hours earlier from around six until quarter to eight. Then, fifth-year and up had theirs from eight until quarter to ten. Whilst some fourth-years had protested at having to dance with the first-years, the whole thing went rather smoothly.

Plus, Harry saw that he wasn't the only one there that wasn't supposed to be: he had just seen Ginny brush past and head for the front of the stage where the Weird Sisters were playing again. Personally, Harry was partial to a few of their songs but overall wasn't so keen, like a few other people in the hall. Forgotten dates stood clustered at the sides watching their girlfriends scream and shout at the edge of the stage.

Suddenly, the tone of the music changed, the pitch swooping lower and tempo slowing. Harry looked around warily as fellow students pressed together and began to slow-dance, looking at each other dreamily. He leapt to the side and wound around the couples, sliding past two girls waltzing and ending up on the fringe of the dancefloor. Harry turned back, and upon closer inspection the two girls turned out to be Alicia Spinnet and some seventh-year Hufflepuff he didn't know.

They were unmistakeably a couple; gazing into each other's eyes dreamily and the Hufflepuff's hands curled round Alicia's waist too tightly. Whilst a few people muttered and glared at the two, for the most part nobody cared, some smiling at them. Inside, Harry could feel himself unclenching a little. Would anyone care that the Boy-Who-Lived liked boys?

The Wizarding World had a complicated stance on that. Some people approved, some didn't. But it looked like at Hogwarts, people were more accepting. Still Harry just... he wasn't sure. Of anything. Who he liked, or why, or how. They were all questions he would rather not deal with, because it required 'finding yourself'. He wished someone else could just give him the answers.

Harry shook his head and took another gulp of his butterbeer. However, when he lowered the bottle again, Ginny Weasley was standing in front of him. She looked quite pretty in a pale silver dress, eyes outlined in smoky-grey. Half of her hair had loosely been pinned up.

"Hi," she began, stretching out a hand. "Would you like to dance?"

Harry smiled. "Sure, why not?" he said, taking her hand, and joining the rush of dancing students. The beat of the song had sped up, but only slightly so they could still get away with doing a more formal dance. Harry was glad because he couldn't do it freestyle - he always ended up looking like an idiot.

"So, who are you anyway?" she said quizzically, brown eyes looking at him curiously.

He sank into a slight bow, grinning as he came back up to face her. "Tony Evergreen. The Minister's nephew, removed a few times of course."

Her smile dropped almost instantly. "Really? I've never heard of you before."

"Uncle decided it was best I was kept out of the public eye. But tonight, I get to let loose a little." he replied casually. It was lucky Tony Evergreen was so charismatic, because Harry Potter would have been trembling in his boots. It wouldn't take much to prove Tony Evergreen didn't exist, so Harry had to really sell this story if he didn't want to be booted out. He swallowed down the knot in his throat and carried on smiling.

Ginny nodded slowly. "Right," she replied, but didn't look him square in the eye. Instead, she gazed over his shoulder, and after a strategic twirl Harry discovered Michael Corner was shuffling about behind him with some other girl. Hadn't those two been dating or something?

Thankfully, nobody else had asked who he was that night. He had blended into the shadows, keeping at the edge of the crowd to avoid any attention. Harry cast his glance around, and found Ron and Hermione sat at the side, talking quietly. They probably hadn't asked each other (again) but at least they weren't arguing. God, those two were idiots when it came to confessing feelings for each other. It was quite obvious.

He rolled his eyes and looked off to the right, Ginny long having gone silent and probably waiting for the right opportunity to leave so she could dance with someone else. Harry wondered if it was the Minister's nephew bit that put her off. Oh well, he only saw her like a sister anyway, so it would be weird if she tried anything with him.

The song finished, and Ginny pulled back. "Thank you, Tony." she said politely before curtseying and then departing. Harry smiled and then headed back over to the table he had been hovering around all night, the one he felt he had sort of claimed.

The butterbeers that he had drained earlier left him feeling warm and calm, and he swayed slightly to the music, humming under his breath. Harry looked up at the front, where the guitarist was strumming, a woman belting out notes with her wand pointed at her throat, and someone sat at the piano playing. Dumbledore surveyed the scene through his crescent-shaped glasses in bright violet robes, and Umbridge stood not too far away in robes of sickly pink.

Something caught his eye. He turned, and realised it was the silvery sheen of Malfoy's hair catching in the light. Tonight, he had come with Pansy Parkinson, who was in a dress a similar shade to Umbridge's. Although, it did go quite well with Draco's outfit; plain black robes like his but with a silver bowtie that complimented his eyes rather well.

Again, a twinge of anger shot through him watching the two together. Harry watched as Pansy flung her arms around him and breathed in his hair deeply. Malfoy practically jumped and pushed her backward, his expression one of complete shock. Pansy looked hurt, pouting and looking at him sadly. A crease appeared in his brow, like he was teetering on the edge of something.

It disappeared, and Harry knew his mind was set. Draco reached for her slender wrist, pulling it up to the light and pressing a kiss on her knuckle, nails painted an airy pastel pink. Jealously raged through his system and Harry ground his teeth. He wanted to be the one to throw his arms around Malfoy, drinking in the delicious peppermint scent before snogging him senseless.

Harry growled, storming away and out of the doors of the Great Hall.


Why? Why would they do that? Harry paced back and forth, tugging a hand through his hair impatiently again and again. Were they dating? Parkinson and Malfoy were always hanging off each other - and why did he care so much?

It wasn't like Malfoy was his property. The git could do whatever he bloody well pleased, and Harry didn't care about him anyway. He didn't. But still, his temper flared after seeing those two together, and he wanted to go and give Parkinson a good smack round the face. He groaned, pulling off the enchantments and seeing the lenses rounded, his hair grow longer.

This- what was this? What was he doing? Pull yourself together, Harry! And calm the fuck down! He paused, leaning against the window and pressing his head against the cool window. His scar was really burning tonight, and the condensation outside soothed it. Harry rubbed his temples, debating whether he should just leave again to avoid this whole mess.

"Breaking the rules again, Potter? I thought you were banned from the dance." said a familiar, smooth voice. Harry turned around to find its owner, Draco Malfoy standing in the corridor a few feet away. Oh, perfect, he thought. Just what I need. Harry glared at him, then looked out at the dark grounds lit up by the moon. Only a crescent was visible - maybe Remus could make it round for Christmas.

Malfoy shifted his feet. Harry looked round at him again, and raised an eyebrow. "What do you want?"

He looked blank for a second. "I... don't know."

A silence stretched between the two of them, thick and heavy.

Harry snickered. "Didn't think you'd actually go and stroke the thestral today, you know."

"Hm." Malfoy wandered over to the window, crossing his arms and resting them on the window sill. "I wanted to ask you something."

Harry frowned slightly. "What?" This was strange. They usually only had civil conversations in the potions lab.

"Why did you listen to me that day?" he said, that familiar crease appearing in his brow, making Harry want to reach over and smooth it out. And he could; they were barely two feet away from each other.

"When?" Harry replied.

Malfoy bit his lip. "When you were going to leave. Why did you listen to me? I overheard some of the teachers saying they were sure you'd gone for good."

Harry moved slightly, bringing them even closer. His eyes flickered over his pointed, pale features, getting caught on those glinting, grey eyes. They were only a foot away now. "You persuaded me," he muttered, smiling slightly.

The next few moments were ones he would remember forever. Draco's eyes searched his face hungrily, taking in every detail, and in that moment, Harry had never been more aware of his heart thudding in his chest and Malfoy's lips inches away from his.

For a moment, he could pretend. That Voldemort didn't exist, and the boy he liked wasn't on the wrong side. The dark side. Harry wanted to pretend that they weren't a Gryffindor and Slytherin for a second, that they hadn't been arch-enemies for years. That they were just two boys who had fallen for each other.

He leaned forward slightly, capturing Draco's lips in his. At once a tingle shot through him, electrifying every nerve and liquifying any rational thought. Draco tasted like mint, exactly how he had pictured in his dreams. For a moment, there was nothing. He was kissing a statue. Then, Draco shifted, and crashed their lips together even harder.

This - this was better than anything he had ever felt before. Harry could feel a hand twisting up and cupping the back of his neck, combing through his hair lightly. He curled his own hand around Draco's waist, pulling them closer together.

The kiss deepened, Harry's mouth twisting and pushing against Draco's. At some point, his tongue had gotten involved, and so had his partner's. Draco moaned, more of a soft sigh, and for the first time Harry wondered about going further.

And then, just as quickly as they had come together, they were wrenched apart. Harry couldn't tell who had broken the kiss, but he didn't care. All he wanted was for the two to be joined again. But- but no. Judging by Draco's expression, the same horrifying realisation had crashed over both of them like a catastrophic wave.

They- they had kissed. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. Practically a death-eater-in-the-making had snogged the Boy-Who-Lived. They were on opposite sides, for fuck's sake!

What would Ron and Hermione say? Sirius? Mr and Mrs Weasley? Dumbledore? McGonagall? Fred and George? It seemed like Malfoy was running through the same thing beside him; oh God, what if his father found out about this? Voldemort? Could the other side use this to their advantage, or would they just kill both of them on the spot?

And Malfoy... they wouldn't like this at all. Harry knew what pureblood families like his thought of two boys being together. They wouldn't like it at all.

Bloody fucking hell, what had he done? Could they pretend this never happened? Harry was still breathing heavily from the kiss, and dared to look at Draco. His lips, still faintly swollen from the recent kissing session, were drawn into a tight line. He was staring determinedly out of the window, keeping his eyes on the grounds. Harry could make out his chin trembling slightly.

Draco looked up sharply and met his gaze, and Harry could feel his brow furrowing and breath cutting off in his throat. This was just so... so... he didn't know. There was no way to describe this- this passionate mess they had gotten themselves into, and there was no way anything more could happen.

Oh, but Harry had enjoyed it. And going off Draco's enthusiasm, so had he. For a few blessed minutes (or was it seconds?) they had both forgotten and become entwined within one another, lips pressed together. It had been absolute bliss, feeling Draco's hand in his hair. Harry cracked a small smile, and could swear he got a small one in return. But it was hard to tell, because a second and a swish of robes later, Draco had gone.

It was like his breath had been stolen away. All Harry could glimpse was a distant flash of blonde, soon swallowed by the candlelight flooding from the hall. Harry slumped against the window, and sank to the ground, mind buzzing wildly.

He could still remember how Draco had looked with the moonlight lighting up his face, setting fire to those misty eyes of his and making his lips an inviting invitation. It was like they were just begging to be kissed. Every drag on his lips by his teeth was so very taunting. Harry draped his fingers over his mouth, still feeling the ghost of Malfoy's lips pressing against his - rough, ravaged by the ferocious kiss.

Suddenly, his breath caught in his throat. Did- did anyone see? Harry checked around the empty, cold, dark corridors, searching for a hint of someone else having been there. He couldn't sit still; his heart was still beating out of control, nerves frazzled with anxious energy. His breath had been stolen, and he couldn't get it back.

Draco had just left, stealing his heart as well as his breath. He pulled his hands through his hair, eyes darting around the empty corridor wildly.

All that he could think about was Draco's smile, the way it pulled up the corners of his mouth and made his eyes light up. The way his voice sang to his ears and every word he spoke was etched on the inside of his skull. He remembered the way he moved, how he flew, how he had an annoying tendency to always think he was right.

Draco Malfoy was poison, pure and simple. But someone had taken that toxicity and put it in a fancy bottle, dressed it up and made it absolutely irresistible to Harry. That was how it felt. But he had to keep going strong, keep pushing to win the war.

That's what it was. A war. And Harry was... fraternising with the enemy. That just wouldn't do. Harry's head was spinning from his entire world having been turned upside down by a single kiss. Draco had come and shaken up all of his beliefs, what he knew about himself, and changed his identity forever.

Harry didn't know how he made it to Gryffindor Tower, but as soon as he slumped into his bed he fell asleep. Just like that, he was out like a light, stray tears still leaking from his closed eyelids. For weeks sleep had evaded him but now it welcomed him with open arms. And Harry was so exhausted, he fell right in.


Draco grabbed another butterbeer, gulping it down and discarding the empty bottle on a nearby table. It was a good distraction; now he blame the warmth flooding through his veins on the honey-coloured beverage, instead of...

Dammit, not distracting enough. Draco cast his gaze around the emptying ballroom, eyes eventually landing on his friends. Blaise was talking to Pansy, looking into her eyes deeply.

He could remember when those sparkling, chestnut-brown irises used to enchant him with Blaise even more so than he already was, but now he preferred another.

Dear Merlin, what had he done? Draco and Harry had kissed. He, Draco Malfoy, had kissed Potter. And worst of all, he had enjoyed it. So had Potter, from the way he had gripped his waist so tightly.

This was so unbearably stupid, so short-sighted of him. Draco remembered how the evening had gone downhill, could pinpoint the exact moment when things went south. He had pressed a kiss on Pansy's hand, and out of the corner of his eye spotted someone leaving the hall. Curiosity to find out who that person was had overtaken him, and besides, he needed some excuse to get away from Pansy.

Draco crept behind them, watching as they paced back and forth agitatedly and ran their hands through their coppery-coloured hair. The motion had reminded him of Potter so much.

And then, something strange had happened. The mystery ball-attendee had waved his hands over himself, and it was like they were suddenly a whole different person. Hair darkened and curled up, eyes changed to a familiar emerald-green and glasses rounded. Before Draco knew it, he had opened his mouth and begun to talk.

It wasn't much of a conversation. Just empty words to fill the silence that was wrapped around both of them, pushing them further along to... something. It wasn't long before Draco had joined him at the window, their faces inches apart. Then, Potter had closed the space.

Or had he? It had been a confusing night, one that he should put out of his memory and never think about again. Nobody cared where Draco went, or where Potter had been tonight. No doubt Harry would pretend to have spent the entire night curled up in his bed, oblivious to everything.

His friends certainly hadn't noticed his reappearance, and Draco wasn't about to tell them. What if he just went somewhere else for a while? Look for Potter? No, he stopped that thought in its chaotic trajectory before it could become a fully-formed thought. He wasn't about to go back, not when he had just regained his senses and fled the situation. Draco cursed himself for even letting himself have a single seductive thought about Potter.

Maybe if he had remembered the rules that were essentially bred into him and reinforced throughout his childhood, he wouldn't be in this mess right now. Oh, why did this have to happen? Thank fuck he had some basic training in occlumency - this needed to stay secret, this particular tidbit of gossip needed to be locked away in his mind and the key be thrown away.

Then, a thought struck him. Potter. His father taught him to never leave behind a loose end, and the gormless idiot he had just snogged certainly was one. They would have to talk; it shouldn't be too difficult, considering Potter would want to keep this quiet too. Did he know any occlumency? Maybe Draco would have to teach him. Could he do that?

An involuntary feeling of euphoria spread through his stomach, working ten times better than the butterbeer. He could see Potter again! And alone, too!

No, no, no. This was incredibly dangerous. From the kiss it appeared Potter liked him back- hang on, how could he be sure? It was only a kiss. Perhaps he was just... lonely? But couldn't he find some other wench to occupy his time, rather than going for him? This was so confusing. Would Potter even want a wench? Or would he prefer a guy? Draco didn't know, and he certainly wasn't about to ask. If anything it was good that he didn't know a bloody thing, because then it would be too easy to properly pursue him.

There was a spark. He was sure of that one thing, at least. And Draco would have to try and snuff it out as fast as he could, before it erupted into a fire.


For a moment, he was sure he was slithering on a window. The stones were so cool beneath him that it reminded him of pressing his burning scar to the condensation as he had done many times before. But no; he was sliding silently down the corridor, searching, hunting for what he needed.

One set of instructions was printed into his mind. If you could think in all capitals, those words would be bold and bright in his brain. Impossible to ignore, impossible to run from. All he could do was follow.

He was looking for someone. They would be standing guard outside the door with the strange symbol on it, and it was his job to take care of them. Whoever they were, whatever they stood for, he had to silence them. It was his mission to stop the enemy by any means necessary. In his mind, they was incredibly dangerous, and threatened to dissolve everything his master wanted, everything he had built up.

He was loyal and determined, and perfect for the job. He was going to do whatever his master wanted, and he would be so rewarded afterwards. Praised well.

And there he was. A thin, tall man standing at the door, head craning round to check every corner. How sad - he didn't think to check the floor, not until it was too late. He registered the look of horror that crossed his face as the man paled and held out his wand in a trembling hand. What did he think he could do with that?

Before the man had even uttered a syllable, he struck, closing his jaws around his side and clamping down, hard. Blood spurted everywhere, the man crashing onto his knees as his bones crunched and snapped, giving in. Still, he was ruthless, biting down once, twice, three times. Sure, the man had long stopped moving, but he could still get up again and tear everything apart. This one man could ruin everything.

Oh, his master would be pleased. And so was he - the blood that ran over his teeth and ran down his throat tasted like victory, all metallic and warm. So warm. He turned his head, watching the blood spurt from his neck and across the floor. The mission was complete. He turned and left, glancing up at the door once and seeing that strange symbol before concluding his work tonight was done.


Harry screamed, twisting his arms and trying to get free. He could hardly breathe, each breath he tried to drag in lost in his frantically heaving chest. It was all going to his head; he couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't anything. He felt arms scrabbling at his side, desperately trying to stop him thrashing about wildly. People were calling his name, but he didn't want to answer.

Harry scrambled off the bed, tearing away sheets and duvets sodden in sweat. The dress robes he wore to the ball earlier were tussled and creased, damp patches where he had sweated. Harry didn't care what kind of mess he looked like, he just... he didn't know. It was like his mind had been unravelled.

Where was he going? Where could he go? He stood up shakily, confused and dizzy, one hand grasping the bedpost in an attempt to keep him upright. Tears laced his vision, the light-headedness clouding and numbing his senses. He tried to make sense of what happened, sinking to the floor while shaking horribly. His breaths came in short, shallow bursts.

He put his head in his hands, roughly brushing the cold sweat from his forehead. His stomach was churning uncomfortably, throat burning. The concerned faces of his doormates swam into view, and Harry winced at them, finally turning over and heaving.

Blood. That was what spilled from his mouth, thick and hot. Harry saw Ron backing away, pale-faced as he drew an arm across his mouth. It came back stained red, coating the faint splodges of ink still stained on his fingertips entirely. It was all he could taste and smell - that awful, metallic taste clinging to his mouth. He coughed and spluttered, tearing his throat apart even further. A few stray tears fell from his eyes.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall burst in and took one look at Harry curled up at the side of the bed, blood dripping from his mouth and splattered on the floor in a deep crimson puddle and gasped, covering her mouth with her hand while her eyes widened in shock.

"Potter!" she shouted, making his ears ring sickeningly. He closed his eyes, trying to satiate the nausea. "Are you alright?"

Harry leaned his head back, and took in a shaky breath, giving her a long look. What did she think? Bit of a stupid question. Harry drew his knees up to him, hearing McGonagall question his dormmates. "Came back from the dance, saw him asleep," said one voice. "We left him alone - he looks so tired lately we thought he could use it."

Another once, probably Ron or something, explained further. "A few minutes ago we heard him tossing about, mumbling something. Then he started screaming and we couldn't wake him up."

Someone sighed. "Well, next he woke up, then he puked... that." The voice finished flatly, and Harry was sure the speaker had pointed at the puddle of blood by the side of the bed. Harry hugged himself tightly, praying for the shaking to stop. It was getting uncontrollable, making him trembled wildly. He touched a finger to his scar; it was burning so hot he felt like the pain might slice his head in half.

"Right, well we'd best get him to the hospital wing. Can he stand?" said McGonagall in a clipped tone.

Harry looked up sharply. The hospital wing? Then- then Pomfrey would know, and everyone else too. If they didn't already - Dean and Seamus would tell everyone how- how weak he was. More importantly, what he done. Where he had been. Harry hadn't just thrown up that blood for nothing - no, they would all know he attacked someone, the blood trickling into his system from the wounds of that man.

Now that he thought about it, that man was oddly familiar. He looked to be around forty or fifty, was quite thin... he had glasses too, and ginger hair. He could remember it now: every detail burning into his mind and returning from the depths of his mind. Had he- had he attacked Mr Weasley? Sure enough, the kind face floated into his mind, fitting with the victim's perfectly.

Harry remembered the way his face had turned from fear to nothing in the space of a second. He had been staring ahead blankly, eyes fixed on nothing in particular, blood seeping through his robes and staining them. Those clear blue eyes had been far, far too clear. His felt his chest constricting even further. Was he.. dead? Had Harry killed his best friend's dad?

Ron had bent down to his level, and drew and arm around his shoulders. "C'mon, Harry, you have to go to the hospital wing. Pomfrey'll fix you up." Ron's voice sounded so strong, so determined.

His eyes darted around the floor rapidly. "No," he said, his voice dry and cracked. "I need to see Dumbledore."


*I don't own anything, all rights to J.K. Rowling.

**What a chapter! I wanted to say - this story is not over. Far from it. So don't go complaining that the Drarry went too fast or anything, because it's only just begun. It's a messy start, but one nonetheless. Anyway I hope you enjoyed. Thank you so much for the favourites, follows and reviews!

-Tea33.