The last ten gems clinked into Gryffindor's hourglass on a Wednesday afternoon, earned by a nameless student, who saved their classmate from being struck across the face by a Whipping Willberry in Greenhouse Four. It took three more hours for the school to realize that they had reached their goal, and another two for the grand prize to be announced.
Horace Slughorn sauntered gaily into the Slytherin common room, bright green robes flowing like sea currents around his feet. The students present looked up from their schoolwork, each already guessing what announcement he was about to make and listening attentively.
"Well, you all have earned it," he beamed at them, "Four thousand points. I'll admit, a few of us teachers didn't think you'd be able to do it." He chuckled, twisting at his walrus-like mustache. "But I knew you had it in you! So, the grand prize…" Slughorn spread his arms, making himself even more enormous, and the students leaned in, "A ball! The last Friday of the year. Wear your best fashion, children, and be prepared for what I've been told will be a 'magical night.'" His laughter boomed over the chatter that had immediately erupted. "Ah, anyway. Further details will be posted soon."
The news reached Harry as he arrived from Quidditch practice - Ginny insisted on having a few friendly scrimmages before the end of the year, for the fun of it -, broom in hand, sweat drying on his forehead. Draco looked over his shoulder from the sofa and said, silver eyes alight, "There's a ball next week."
"Next week?" Harry's eyebrows shot into his damp hair, and he took a moment to register the news. He didn't much fancy dances, but Draco appeared so excited at the prospect that he didn't even consider not attending. "Do you want to…?"
"Yes," Draco said immediately. "I've talked to the others," by which Harry assumed he meant Ron and Hermione, "and we're all going to Hogsmeade to shop tomorrow. Ginny and her friends are coming along, as well."
"Tabitha and Cass?"
"Uh-huh."
"That's nice." Harry was a little thrown off by Draco's tone as he spoke of the plans he'd made, with an air of nonchalance, of put-togetherness. Ever since he'd written that letter, a tension had dissipated from Draco's shoulders, replaced with confidence. With aloofness, a devil-may-care attitude that Harry found both weirdly nostalgic and achingly attractive. "You seem…happy today, Draco."
Draco tilted his head as if surprised that Harry was stating the obvious. "I can be happy."
"I know. I'm happy that you're happy."
Draco's arm was draped along the top of the sofa. He turned to face him. "Come here."
Harry had barely leaned down when Draco reached up, pulling him down with a firm hand on his neck. Their noses bumped, and Draco kissed him fiercely, then pulled away before Harry had even realized what was happening. If he hadn't been so caught off-guard, Harry might have noticed the way people around them had begun to stare, but as it was, he felt suddenly breathless at how smoothly Draco had tantalized him, had drawn him in.
"You should take a shower," Draco said conversationally, his hand resting on Harry's waist.
Not one to be outdone, Harry took his hand and brought it to his mouth. "I will," He murmured, and lips moving against Draco's pale knuckles, formed the words, join me. Draco flushed, and Harry smirking, dropping his hand, not giving a single damn about the students that stared as he strolled off.
• • •
Summer spread itself lazily across the Hogwarts grounds, breezes winding between the towers, carrying the fragrance of freshly blooming flowers. Sunshine beamed down warmly on a sauntering Saturday, and most students abandoned their robes for light Muggle clothes as they walked in groups to Hogsmeade.
"Feel okay?" Harry glanced over at Draco as they ambled along the village's main street.
"What do you mean?" Draco felt fine, if a little hot, but even unfastening a single button would expose the beginnings of his scars, slashing up his chest like fragmented bolts of lightning.
"I mean…are you, you know, sore?"
Draco raised a hand to cover the blush he felt unfurling across his face. "Merlin, Potter, not here. I'm fine."
"Just checking." Harry seemed a bit embarrassed that he'd brought it up, but Draco was grateful for the concern.
Five people stood near the display window of DeWit's Boutique, a relatively high-end clothing shop that Draco used to browse in when he was younger. Luna, Cassandra, and Tabitha all smiled politely when they approached.
"Hey, Quidditch star!" Ginny greeted Harry, giving him a quick hug, then glanced apologetically at Cass.
"No, no, feel free to rub it in," Cass said flippantly, but she didn't seem angry. "You won, I lost. We'll see who's playing for England in ten years."
"Both of us, maybe." Ginny grinned as she nudged her friend playfully.
Draco did a double-take as he noticed the fifth figure that stood, silent and brooding, at the back of the group. He was tall and lanky, like Ron, but with none of his warmth and charm. Eyes almost the color of pitch, even in the sunlight, regarded the students as if they were children he had been forced to babysit. He nodded at Draco, whose hand drifted to his trouser pocket on instinct.
"Malfoy."
"Nott."
"Why are you here?" Harry cut in; he'd noticed him, too, green eyes narrowing.
"Now, now. We're all friends here," said Theodore Nott, slowly raising his hands in lazy surrender. "Came to see my baby sister," he patted Tabitha's head, who looked disgruntled at being patronized, "and lend her some money for this little ball you kids are having."
"Kids," Draco echoed, raising an eyebrow, "Who are your age."
"And unemployed, I'd imagine, seeing as you're stuck in school," Theodore replied with a smirk. Draco couldn't come up with a retort, but he was saved as Hermione and Ron joined them, him holding a couple of paper bags from Honeydukes.
"Lovely morning, isn't it?" Ron greeted all of them loudly. His broad grin didn't fade even when he noticed Theodore. "What a surprise! Nott, is it?"
"Yup." Theodore looked slightly amused at being addressed with such affability but shook Ron's and Hermione's hands.
"So, what have you been up to?" Hermione asked smoothly, taking over Draco's role as the poised converser.
"Little bit of this, little bit of that," Theodore said, flitting a pale hand about vaguely.
"Little bit of Dark magic?" Draco asked, unable to keep a jab of venom out of his voice.
"Merlin, no. Tabs and I don't run with that crowd anymore, do we?" He replied, squeezing her shoulder. "I'm a businessman, simple as that. Don't be so suspicious, Malfoy."
Draco bristled. "I'm being careful."
Harry laid a hand on his arm and exchanged a look with Hermione, who said, "Why don't we go in?"
The shop expanded on the inside, its lavish velvet walkways and high ceilings contrasting with its polished but innocuous appearance from the street. On one side were aisles of dress robes, silk, embroidered, with rhinestones, with ruffles, or lace. The other side held clothes styled like Muggle outfits, mostly dresses, but with a few suits and tuxedos that were light enough to accommodate a robe on top. Draco had seen far more impressive boutiques in London, of course, but the shop was still as high-end as he remembered it.
Cass smothered a squeal when she saw all the glittering, colorful fabric. "Ah - I almost forgot," She turned to face the group, "Couples should split up so you can be surprised when you first see them all dressed up."
"How hopeless romantic of you," Ginny remarked, and Cass punched her shoulder.
"Like you aren't one, too."
"All right, it's a cute idea."
"I'll start on that side, I suppose," Harry told Draco with a shrug, nodding to the robes, and the teens drifted to different parts of the store.
Draco meandered to a rack of dress shirts, shoving his hands in his pockets to discourage the childish urge to run his hands over the cloth. As a kid, he used to do that, back when he thought all the world was in his grasp.
As he was admiring a high-collared charcoal shirt, Draco felt someone staring at him. He glanced stealthily over his shoulder; Theodore was looking at him between a row of tuxes.
"What?" Draco asked brashly, gripping his wand in his pocket.
Theodore didn't answer but emerged from his hiding spot, casually coming to stand beside him. He hummed thoughtfully as he pawed through the shirts, looking back and forth between them and Draco. Finally, he picked out a number that Draco admittedly had his eye on, a crisp garment with a gorgeous, silvery satin color. "Matches your eyes," Theodore remarked.
Draco pushed the hanger away as Theodore tried to hold it up to him. "Why are you really here, Theo?"
"Oh, getting familiar, are we?" Theodore slid the shirt back into the rack. "It's like I said, I came for Tabitha. But all right, I will say," he added as Draco glared, "I was hoping to catch up with you, too. Haven't seen you since-"
"Since we were a part of a pureblood supremacy organization bent on murdering half the human population."
"Uh-huh." Only now did Theodore look uncomfortable, wringing his spiderlike hands. Draco still hadn't fully registered that he was here, that only a few years ago, their fathers had joined the Dark Lord in his twisted quest for power. Theodore had changed, Draco could tell, but not that much. When they were younger, he'd been a follower like Crabbe and Goyle - but shifty, bitter, and faithless, like Pansy. Draco had never trusted him. For Theodore to show up now, with no warning…he wasn't sure how to feel about it.
"Well, hey, that's not fair," Theodore said presently, "I never really joined them. You did."
That familiar hot flash of guilt sprung free into Draco's mind, and he wrestled it back into a cage as he said, "I left."
"So did my family. Fair's fair."
Draco's hand wavered over the shirts. That silvery one would look awfully nice on him. Out of spite, he grabbed a black one with shiny, gray abalone buttons, instead. "Do me a favor…" He began, meaning to say, "and leave me alone," but Theodore interrupted.
"Come outside with me a moment, won't you?"
"What?"
"Just leave that; it'll still be there," Theodore told him, jutting his chin at the shirt, but that was not the reason for Draco's hesitation.
"I'm not going anywhere with you. How stupid do you think I am?"
"C'mon, Dray."
"I hate when you call me that."
"For old time's sake?"
"I said no."
"I need your advice," said Theodore desperately.
Draco crossed his arms. "On what?"
"I…" His dark eyes darted around the shop, though no one else was watching. "Not here. It'll take just a minute, I promise. Please."
Draco sighed sharply. "Fine," He said through gritted teeth.
The two Slytherins slipped out the back door of the shop into an alleyway. It was colder here in the shade, and a breeze swept behind the building, carrying the sickly-sweet smell of Honeyduke's excess. Theodore seemed to have lost some of his unflappability; his nervous hands fidgeted, dipping into his pockets for a box of cigarettes.
"Smoke?"
"No, thanks." Draco crossed his arms as Theodore jerked the cigarette in hand - it lit by itself. "So?"
"So." Theodore took a long drag, then exhaled, dirty gray smoke clouding his face. He appeared to relax, though Draco's nose crinkled as he fought the urge to cough. He despised cigarettes. "You and the Savior, huh?"
"His name is Harry," Draco snapped, "And what about it? I thought you were going to ask for my advice."
"I'm getting to that." The smoke faded to a thin trail spiraling from the tip. "You're gay, then, Malfoy?"
"Yes, and what about it?" Draco growled, growing increasingly anxious.
"Is it hard?" The question felt sincere, a genuine inquiry, and from the nervous look on Theodore's wan face, Draco realized what was going on. "I mean…how did you come out without being a complete disaster?"
Draco chuckled without thinking, and Theodore's expression twisted in apprehensive terror. "No, I - I'm not laughing at you, Nott. Theo. It was a complete disaster. Being forced to come out didn't help. Ah…anyway, that's a long story. The point is…" He paused. "It's hard, being different. I'm not going to sugarcoat it. But I just want to exist, you know? Love whomever I want while everyone else leaves me alone." Draco laughed again, short and bitter. "No one ever leaves me alone. But then again, what do I know?" He shrugged, as if to say, I know nothing. "I'm the villain from children's storybooks, too. Being gay just makes all that even worse."
Theodore took another drag, eyebrows furrowing through the ensuing plume of smoke. "Mother of Merlin."
Draco nodded, agreeing with his defeated tone. "So…who else knows about you?"
"Just my sister." Theodore rolled the cigarette between his fingers. "She was fine with it. Told me I was brave, thanked me for telling her, that whole shindig."
"Thank you for telling me," Harry said, his voice soft. "I'm sure this probably isn't the easiest thing to do."
"I know my mum would give me hell about it, though," Theodore continued resentfully. "She's always nagging me to find a pureblood wife."
"You still hung up about blood?" Draco asked cautiously.
Theodore shook his head. "Nah, it's too much of a bother to keep track of, if I'm honest. What's the point? I can't even bring myself to have kids." He tossed the spent cigarette onto the cobblestones and crushed it beneath a polished black heel. "What should I do, then?"
Draco spread his hands helplessly. His empathy had grown for Theodore in just a few short minutes, but he didn't feel qualified to give advice; his own life wasn't exactly stable. "I couldn't have made it through this past year without Harry. Having someone to support you is really helpful. You've got Tabitha, at least. Unless there's someone else?"
"There might be." Theodore smiled, truly smiled, for the first time, a faraway look in his dark eyes. Draco knew that look well, had seen it reflected in an emerald green gaze. "I dunno yet. We'll see."
"Well…take things slow. That's all I can say."
"All right." Theodore shoved his hands in his pockets. "Hey - thanks, Malfoy. I mean that."
"You're welcome."
"Will you write to me this summer?" He asked.
Draco hesitated. "Sure."
Theodore gave him an address, some hoity-toity street in London, and the pair walked back inside. In the time they'd been gone, Luna, Ginny, Cass, and Ron had finished and chatted near the entrance with large, paper bags emblazoned with the shop's logo. Draco wandered back to the shirt rack he'd been browsing, wavering between the options. He chose the black one in the end; silver simply didn't go well with his complexion.
Harry and Hermione were the last to finish, Hermione looking smugly between him and Draco.
"Need something?" Draco asked, not appreciating being stared at.
"Just can't wait to see the look on your face when you see him," Hermione grinned.
"Same goes for you, Ron," Harry said, clapping his friend's shoulder, "You're a lucky bloke."
"Oh, I know." Ron kissed the top of Hermione's head, and she beamed. He returned the smile, still in the same inexplicably buoyant mood he'd been in when they started. Draco saw him glance at Harry, and a message passed between them, a secret glance between friends. Draco tamped down rising feelings of jealousy; he was sure he'd find out what the look meant soon enough.
Laden with merchandise, the group headed for the Three Broomsticks, which was so packed that the crowd spilled out the back door and into the adjoining alley. Madam Rosmerta and her employees had worked double-time to accommodate, transforming the cracked cobblestones into a soft carpet of grass and duplicating tables so people could sit outside. The eight students were seated immediately by a young waiter who seemed as if he'd just been hired and looked astonished upon seeing The Chosen One. Draco wondered if he'd read the Witch Weekly article.
"Eight butterbeers, please," Ginny told the waiter.
"Make that seven and a firewhiskey," Theodore corrected.
The hum of conversation wound its way above the tables, each their own island of friends, classmates, and acquaintances, punctuated with the clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter. Draco fell silent for a while, watching his friends interact, taking satisfaction in the fact that he could interject at any time, and they would allow it with no objections. How strange it was to be part of this dynamic, the girls that giggled at Ron's stories, Theodore sipping his whiskey and supplying his wit every once in a while, and Harry, whose arm was draped around Draco's shoulders as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
Three little brown birds, which Draco recognized as sparrows, swooped overhead, chirping and dancing circles around each other as they headed for the trees. The silhouette of their tiny figures against the bright expanse of the sky suddenly reminded him of something.
"Hey." He placed his hand on Harry's thigh to get his attention, and before he could reply, Draco held his face and kissed him. No hiding, no looking around first to see if anyone was watching, just a simple, soft, kiss, fabric beneath one palm and warm skin beneath the other, tasting the sweetness of butterbeer on Harry's lips.
"What was that for?" Harry asked, mouth twitching in amusement. Draco was tempted to kiss him again but answered as his thumb brushed over Harry's bottom lip.
"A promise is a promise."
Harry grinned. "You remembered."
"Of course, I did. Dolt."
This time, it was Harry who kissed him first. Draco's ears were deaf to the whispers and exclamations, eyes closed against the incredulous faces, his other senses overflowing with skin and gardenias and the hum in Harry's throat. The Three Broomsticks' patrons could have all been making the most obscene, hateful gestures at them, and Draco couldn't have cared less.
• • •
A pair of green eyes met their counterparts in the mirror, narrowing critically. Harry had never given much thought to his appearance, but he felt that tonight was as good a time as ever to make an effort.
I look the same, he thought, not disappointedly, but as a simple observance. Light brown skin, not without its imperfections, startling eyes, the scar branching across his forehead, black hair that he'd given up on trying to press flat long ago. It stood up all over the place, as usual, and Harry ran his hands through it, trying to at least make it appear askew with purpose.
The clothes were nice, at least. Harry wore a deep green waistcoat embroidered with gold, over a simple black shirt and trousers, beneath a black, green-lined robe. Hermione had persuaded Harry to choose emerald to match his eyes, though it made him look like he was in Slytherin. Harry didn't know much about fashion, but based on the price and Hermione's enthusiastic nods at the shop, he figured the outfit, despite being unlike anything he'd ever worn, suited him.
"Looking sharp, mate," Ron said, sidling next to him. He'd opted for wizarding dress robes, in a shade of midnight blue that unsurprisingly didn't clash with his red hair. The style was unelaborate yet refined, with clear-cut edges, layers that became slightly darker as they moved inward, and a collar thankfully lacking lace.
"Not so bad yourself," Harry replied, grinning at him in the mirror.
Ron cleared his throat, and his smile faded. He turned to his best friend, tugging at his own sleeves nervously. "Hey, um…I want to tell you something."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Sure," He said slowly, "You can tell me anything."
"So…" Ron glanced around, but they were the only ones in the Gryffindor Tower's bathroom. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box.
It took Harry less than a second to realize what it meant. "Ron!" He gasped excitedly, and Ron shushed him.
"C'mon, mate, the whole castle will hear you."
"You're doing it tonight?" Harry's heart had begun to beat faster as if Ron's anxiousness had become his own.
"I…" Ron tossed the box between his hands. "I don't know. Maybe? Do you think it's too early? We've only been together for a year."
"You love her," Harry stated; there was no need to ask. "Why wait? You don't have to get married…"
"…Right away, yeah," Ron finished his sentence. "I don't know if I'm ready for…you know. Marriage. But I do know I want to marry Hermione Granger." He smiled broadly at the admittance. "She's the one."
"Tonight, then?"
"There's too many people around," Ron decided finally, slipping the box back into his pocket. "I have another day in mind."
Harry waited for him to continue.
"Oh - it'll be a surprise. But I thought you should know that it's going to happen soon. Don't say anything," Ron requested earnestly, eyes widening.
"You kidding? Of course, I won't."
"Well…on accident, maybe. I can hardly keep it a secret." Ron took a deep breath. "Anyway…You ready?"
"Yeah. Merlin, this is great news! I'm really happy for you, mate."
Ron made a zipping gesture across his lips, and Harry nodded. He tried to school his features into a neutral expression as the two friends entered the Gryffindor common room, which had begun to empty. Ginny and Hermione looked up as they drew near.
"You…" Ron was at a loss for words as he offered Hermione his hand, almost unable to speak. "Blimey."
"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Hermione laughed, squeezing his hand affectionately. Her dress, which was silky, light blue, and layered, shone with every slight movement. The thin white ribbon tied around her waist matched the one at her neck, which glittered with diamonds, as did her ears. Hermione's hair was as thick as ever, not sleek, but she had seemed to embrace its natural waviness and opted for a full, natural style that Harry thought suited her wonderfully. "You look dashing yourself, Ron."
"Thank you," He managed. They looked pleasing, standing together; he was the midnight sky to her daylight.
"Shall we go, then?" Ginny asked, nearly bouncing with excitement. She wore black trousers and a tie over a deep plum shirt whose rolled-up sleeves drew attention to the gold bracelet winding up her arm. Her makeup was light, face framed by a few stray hairs escaping from an elaborate bun. The colors and style reminded Harry a bit of the Weasley twins' Wheezes uniform - the grin she wore mirrored Fred's exactly, and he felt so spooked that he was grateful to look away for a moment as they headed for the stairs.
"Have you seen the dining hall yet?" Hermione asked conversationally. "I think Flitwick was putting up some enchanted lanterns earlier."
"Oh!" Ginny interjected, "I saw some people coming in with these big cases, violin-shaped."
"A classical orchestra?" Hermione asked, eyes shining.
"Apparently."
"I thought we got the Weird Sisters again?" said Ron.
"We did," Ginny assured him. "They're coming a bit later."
"You'll dance to classical music with me, right?" Hermione asked, nudging Ron.
"Of course," Ron replied, though he sounded a little pained.
Flickering torchlight lit the staircase, whose banisters were draped in emerald, scarlet, blue, and yellow cloth. Harry didn't spot Draco just yet, but as the foursome descended, a burst of yellow suddenly sped toward them, and Ginny laughed as she caught Luna in her arms.
"Hello, gorgeous," Ginny said as Luna ceased being a blur. Her dress, long with a flowing skirt, was bright as a canary, decorated with elegant sunflowers at the bottom that moved in an invisible wind.
"You look so pretty, darling," Luna cooed, pressing a kiss to Ginny's lips. She turned to the others, smiling dreamily. "You all, too."
"Thanks, Luna," "Oh, thank you!" came the overlapping replies.
The droning, steady sound of tuning string instruments reverberated down the wide corridor. Luna's eyes widened. "Music! Let's go," She said and tugged Ginny away, their footsteps echoing on the cobblestone.
"M'lady," Ron spoke in an overly posh accent as he offered his arm to Hermione. The trio made it to the bottom of the steps, joining the crowd below. A few of the eighth years waved to them, and Harry waved back.
The small orchestra had struck up a slow, swelling tune, the soothing sound echoing into the corridor. Harry moved with his friends through the crowd, his partner unable to be found in the sea of color.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and the touch was so familiar that Harry turned around immediately.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," said Draco Malfoy, and the sight of him, the smirk curving his lips, his hand lingering, rendered Harry speechless. He was dressed in nearly all black, save for shiny, silver buttons and his robes' hem, which slowly turned to gray as the fabric neared the floor. Despite the casual elegance of Draco's clothes, Harry couldn't help but notice everything else: the exposed collarbone, the muscles in his neck moving as he talked, the skin of his wrist as the sleeve fell away, and his eyes…Merlin, his eyes. Harry had never been interested in makeup or paid attention to the girls who wore it, but the silver in Draco's eyes seemed brighter than ever, outlined lightly in black, smudged with something sparkly and dark gray. "Pick this out yourself?"
Harry opened and closed his mouth like a fish. "H-Hermione helped," He managed.
"She did a good job." Draco wet his lips as he admired the fabric of the waistcoat. "Green suits you."
"Thank you." Harry finally found his voice and added quickly, "You look stunning, Draco."
"Thanks. Henrietta did this for me," Draco indicated his eyes, "She did a nice job, no?"
"Uh-huh." Harry felt his head spin a little as Draco stepped closer, and he caught a whiff of whatever cologne he was wearing, a bit flowery, but there was something underneath, a musk that reminded Harry of a coming rainstorm.
"You all right?" Without asking for permission, Draco reached up and unfastened the button at Harry's neck, helping him breathe easier. The warmth of his hands at his neck conjured all sorts of images in Harry's mind, and he resolutely pushed them away. Hell, I'm acting like such a teenager. Draco's hand rested on Harry's chest for a moment longer than was necessary, and his silver eyes glittered with mischief as he finally released him. He knew exactly what he was doing. Cheeky bastard.
"Fuck, Draco," Harry muttered under his breath, and Draco looked startled at the words, but he regained his composure quickly.
"Too early for that," he said amiably and took Harry's arm. "Let's go, then. I'll teach you how to dance properly."
"Oh - I don't dance."
"I'll teach my boyfriend," Draco placed immense emphasis on the word, "How to dance the waltz. If they play one."
"Oh, all right," Harry relented. In truth, he would have let Draco teach him a million old, complicated dances if only to be close to him. Warmth radiated off him like dusky sunlight, emanated through his content smile and the shine of his hair; Harry couldn't stop staring.
As they entered the dining hall, they were met with a vast expanse of light and color. The floating candles had been replaced with suspended, sparkling, crystal chandeliers backed by a galaxy-adorned sky. The alcoves hung lanterns whose flames' color alternated between red, blue, yellow, and green. Tables draped in ivory linen, with a round vase of assorted flowers at each center, lined the expansive dance floor. The six-person orchestra played on a raised dais where the head table usually stood. A few older students danced, some more gracefully than others, but most of the attendants milled about the tables, chatting or heading for the buffet on one side.
"There," Draco said as he spotted Ron and Hermione sitting before a vase of white and yellow roses.
"Hey!" Hermione greeted. "Draco, that eyeshadow looks amazing on you."
"Thank you; Henrietta did it for me."
Just then, the orchestra's slow song ended, and they struck up a faster melody, one that even Harry could guess was a waltz - the one-two-three beat was unmistakable.
"Oh, I wish I knew how to dance the waltz," Hermione sighed, "I meant to learn, but never did."
"My mother taught me loads of dances," Draco told her. "I can show you and Harry. And Ron, of course, you'll need a partner." Ron looked a bit unenthusiastic at the idea, but he gamely took Hermione's hand.
"Right hands clasped, left hand on the waist," Draco instructed as they stood by the table. He rested his hand on Harry's waist underneath his robe, pulling him a bit closer than necessary, but his face remained innocent. "The dance pattern is quite simple, really. Watch me." To Harry, "Just step backwards when I'm going forward. Should be easy."
Harry scoffed. "I'm going to be rubbish."
"Not with me, you're not. Ready? One, two, three, one, two three…"
Harry felt terribly clumsy, but Draco kept an ironclad grip on him, steering him in a repeated pattern, and soon Harry began to get a feel for it. He stepped on Draco's toes more than once, and the Slytherin made faces but remained patient. Hermione and Ron seemed to be getting the hang of it, and the two couples eventually diverged, moving through the dancing crowd, every step highlighted by the sunny notes of the violin.
"You're not entirely abysmal," Draco remarked as Harry finally found the confidence to stop looking down at his feet.
"Are you impressed?"
"It'll take a bit more to impress me, Potter."
The music swelled in volume, the rich harmonies from the cello backing up their higher-voiced counterparts. "Let's see if you can handle a spin," Draco said suddenly.
"A what…!" Draco's hand, grasping in Harry's, lifted, turning him in place. Surprisingly, Harry managed not to make a complete fool of himself. As he finished the spin, he nearly stumbled, but Draco steadied him, laughing.
"You're utterly red, Potter."
"Shut up," Harry muttered, but Draco's grin was infectious, and he smiled as he added, "Don't do that again."
"I'll give you some warning next time," Draco promised, and he brushed his lips near Harry's as an apology. A thrill of energy went down Harry's spine; Draco's newfound confidence hadn't yet failed to surprise him.
After an hour or so of lush string instruments and loosely structured dances, the chamber orchestra took their leave to a polite round of applause. Harry had enjoyed the classical dancing more than he thought he would, but less than Draco. The bright look in his silver eyes and the flush across his pale cheeks made it worth it for Harry, and he took satisfaction in asking Draco to sit while he grabbed them both punch.
"No one's spiked it yet," Ron observed, smacking his lips as the four friends gathered once more. He took another sip of the amber-colored punch and shook his head.
"There are kids here, Ron," Hermione scolded.
"Who will all be in bed well before midnight," He assured her.
"Are you planning on doing it, then?" Harry asked him.
Ron patted his robe pockets meaningfully. "Nah, I'm clean. 'Sides, Fred always said spiking drinks was the laziest kind of prank." He recalled his brother fondly, pressing ahead of the sadness that lingered behind his name. "It's easy to have fun without alcohol."
"Is that another way of saying you can't hold your poison?" Draco ribbed.
"Don't test me," Ron joked back. "We'll all go to a pub sometime after graduation, and I'll prove you wrong."
Draco smirked and wordlessly raised his glass to the Gryffindor in reply. Just then, a group of eccentric figures wandered onto the dais, dressed in ripped robes and elaborate makeup, carrying electric guitars, parts of a drum set, amps, and oddly enough, a few jazz instruments.
"Now we're talking," Ron grinned as the Weird Sisters cast tuning charms on their instruments, shook the wild hair from their faces, and stepped up to the microphone.
One person with pink fishnets and a black-and-white striped mane cried, "Hey!"
Half the students shouted, "Hey!" back, including Ron. "What's happening?" Harry asked, looking around in bewilderment.
"It's a Weird Sisters thing," Ron told him, shrugging.
"I have some questions for y'all," said the singer, "Are you ready to feel the noise?"
"Yeah!" came the chorus.
"Are you ready to feel the magic?"
"Yeah!"
"Are you ready to get weird, get loud, and lose? Your? Heads?"
"YEAH!"
"Let's go!"
The guitarists erupted into furious, electrifying riffs, and the drummer struck up a strong rock rhythm. The students cheered at the change in atmosphere, swarming to the dance floor, moving their arms and heads, fabric swishing as they jumped to the beat. Ron took Hermione's hand, and they joined the throng, wearing wild grins as they danced.
"You don't want to join in?" Harry asked Draco, who seemed perfectly content to say sitting.
"I never know what to do with my arms," he replied with an elegant shrug. "You go on if you want."
"Ah - no, I'm okay. I don't really know how to dance to this, either."
Harry had hardly finished speaking when two firm hands suddenly grabbed his shoulders. "Aha!" someone exclaimed, and he jumped in surprise, knocking over his cup. The autumn-colored punch splashed across the white linen.
"I've got it," Luna said, appearing from nowhere, and she untangled her wand from her hair and cleaned the spill with a wave.
"Oh, I wish I could've seen the look on your face," Ginny giggled from behind, and she moved to sit beside him. "How come you're not dancing?"
"You scared me," he said meekly.
"You'll be all right. Come on, this is one of the Sisters' best songs."
"Can't think straight when I'm around you," Warbled the lead singer. "Can't sleep without you / There's someone always on my mind; think about it, guess who?"
"There's no structure to this music," Draco remarked. "Harry and I can just watch."
"Don't be silly, Draco, I see your foot tapping," Ginny said sternly, and Draco looked sheepish.
"It's easy," Luna said airily. "Just…Lose yourself to it." Bobbing her head to the music, she lifted her arms, closed her eyes, and swayed into the crowd, her yellow blending into the rainbow.
"Merlin, she's beautiful," Ginny muttered to herself. To Harry and Draco, "Well? Up you get."
"This is forced fun," Draco grumbled, but he obliged.
"It'll be great, you'll see," Ginny singsonged.
They followed her through a small gap in the crowd, where the pressed bodies and cheers and limbs made room. Harry could feel the energy here, like magic, coursing from the band up front to the listeners spread through the hall. Ginny began to move her hips and hands to the rhythm, smiling as she let the music take control.
"Well? Don't just stand there."
Feeling a bit stupid at first, Harry tried to feel the beat, stepping back and forth, jerking his arms. The crowd grew closer, and as the song went on, Harry let his worries fly up into the starry ceiling, focusing on nothing but the shouted words and the heat of his companion.
"Losing my head! / Losing my breath / I don't know where I'd be if I hadn't met you."
The band played love songs, angry songs, deliriously happy songs. With every passing minute, Harry forgot his past and future, just a little, only paying attention to the here and now, the faces of his friends that passed by, Draco's hands that pulled him close and twirled him, just for fun. At some point, Harry had taken off his robes; the stifling warmth was getting to him.
As the night wore on, the younger students began to trudge off to bed, shoes in their hands and smiles on their faces. Harry met up with more of the seventh years - Cassandra asked him to dance, as did Erin, Luna, and Ollie. Ron asked him as well, and they performed a rendition of a slow waltz as the Weird Sisters played a much faster rock song. Harry felt like a real teenager in those moments, joking and chatting with his friends, spinning in wild circles with Luna, joining Ginny's chain of dancers, watching the others as he sipped punch with Hermione.
But he always came back to Draco, his slim, black silhouette and silver eyes that creased at the edges with a smile. Harry found him within the crowd, half-dancing, half-talking to Henrietta.
"Hey," Draco slipped an arm around Harry's waist when he noticed him.
"Hey. Having fun?" Harry directed the question to both him and Henrietta, who grinned.
"Draco was just telling me about the Hungarian Horntail tattoo you have on your chest," she teased.
"Ah, not this again," Harry mock-sighed. "Bringing up jokes from fourth year, are we?" He asked Draco.
"I'm a little late, I realize."
"Hen!" A girl called from a bit farther away, and Henrietta looked up.
"See you lovebirds later," She said with a wink and slipped into the crowd.
Without warning, Draco tightened his hold, leaned close, and pressed a soft kiss to Harry's temple, almost making him lose his train of thought.
"She's coming out of her shell," said Harry.
"Mhm. Dropping Pansy was good for her."
"So…talk to Ginny lately?"
"Ah, the tattoo thing." Draco withdrew slightly, his piercing eyes meeting Harry's. "Yes. I'm trying to catch up on all your little inside jokes."
There was a touch of real regret in his tone, and Harry squeezed his hand comfortingly. "We'll have our own in time. Remember when I gave you that apple, and you ate it in, I dunno, five seconds?"
"Was that funny?" Draco asked, tilting his head.
"I thought so."
"Hm." Draco's gaze dropped to Harry's lips, lingering for a bit longer than usual, which he found incredibly distracting.
"What?"
"Nothing, I'm a bit tired."
The current song drew to a close, and the lead singer tapped the microphone before speaking. "Second to last song for tonight, kiddos." A collective aww from the dance floor. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I'll miss you, too. Anyways…this next one is a Muggle classic. I know you guys are gonna love it." The band struck up a slow, piano-driven jazz beat, and immediately the crowd of students began to drift into pairs.
"May I have this dance?" Harry asked, though their hands were already intertwined.
"I'm all y-yours," Draco stammered through the last word as he stifled a yawn. "Hold me, will you?" He turned, letting Harry embrace him from behind, and they swayed in place to the soft music.
"I fall in love too easily. I fall in love too fast."
Harry smiled as Draco slumped against him, eyes sliding closed. He smelled of caramel and rain and teenage sweat.
"I fall in love too terribly hard / For love to ever last."
"This is hardly a proper way to dance," Harry murmured teasingly, but Draco did not answer, though he moved his head slightly. "You really are tired, huh? We can go after this."
"Shh. I like this song."
"You've heard it before?"
"I think so. Listen."
The singer's voice, quiet and plaintive, spread like honey over their heads. Harry looked up, seeing the glittering stars of the ceiling, the dimmed candles. He closed his eyes too, focusing on the sound of Draco's breathing, the warmth of his body pressed against him. A band member procured a trumpet, filling the gap as the singer stepped away, and began to play a gentle, wavering solo. Draco opened his eyes halfway, reached up, and pulled Harry into a kiss. The feel of his lips, the understated melody of the piano as it took over - Harry could hardly imagine a moment more perfect.
"My heart should be well-schooled / 'Cause I've been fooled in the past. But still, I fall in love too easily / I fall in love too fast."
As the song ended, Draco turned, placing his arms around Harry's neck and letting his head drop onto his shoulder. "Muggle music isn't bad," He mumbled sleepily. The people around them applauded the band politely, and the sound was like summer rain.
"You're really tired, huh? Off to bed with you," Harry told Draco firmly, and he didn't argue, clinging to him as they headed away from the noise and the crush of bodies.
The sound of muffled bass and drums followed them until the silent dungeons, save for the crackling of a muted, lavender-colored fire in the grate. Their robes draped over one arm, the other wrapped around Draco's shoulders, Harry supported him all the way to his bed. Draco fell to the sheets immediately, muttered something incomprehensible, and sat up again, pulling off his shoes.
"Had fun?" Harry asked as he sat on the edge of the mattress.
"'Course." Draco leaned forward in the semi-darkness and pressed an affectionate kiss to Harry's forehead. "Ugh, I shouldn't sleep in makeup," He mumbled, clumsily getting beneath the blankets, fully clothed. "But that's a problem for Tomorrow Draco. Love you." He promptly closed his eyes and became still.
"Love you, too," Harry whispered. Exhaustion began to overtake him as well, and he stayed on the bed for a few minutes, listening once more to Draco's breath and the night silence. "Heh, Tomorrow Draco. That was quite funny," He remarked presently, but his boyfriend slumbered on. "Well…goodnight."
When he stood from the mattress, Harry promised himself that he'd change and brush his teeth, but by the time he got to his own bed, he was simply too tired. Harry flung off his shoes unceremoniously, flopped upon the sheets, and fell asleep with a heart full of content.
