Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2021: Keepsmiling1

Prompts:

Draco and Harry bonding

WC: 2431

Harry grinned when Malfoy picked up the glass of wine and took a long sip. Yes, Harry knew it was childish of him to resort to such petty behaviour—his conscience sounded a lot like Hermione—but he couldn't help himself. After six years of constantly being bullied by Draco Malfoy, Harry had decided it was time to turn the tables.

At last, he would get to see Malfoy humiliate himself in front of the entire Ministry. The potion Harry had slipped into the drink would begin its work soon. Harry pocketed the small vial with the WWW label on it and waited for the fun to begin.

The Ministry ball was in full swing; people from all over the Wizarding World were in attendance. Wizards and witches, dressed to the nines, milled about the grand ballroom, dancing and enjoying themselves. Harry stood near the long drinks' table, his eyes trained on Malfoy. The blonde stood a few feet away and was talking to Theodore Nott and Hermione.

Harry absentmindedly lifted his own glass and took a sip. It tasted a bit odd, and Harry was immediately on edge. His instincts told him something was wrong, and he glanced around the large ballroom to find who had messed with his drink. His eyes landed on Malfoy, whose lips were twitching suspiciously as he tried not to meet Harry's eyes.

Oh, that little…

Harry's vision grew fuzzy for a second before narrowing in on Malfoy. He walked over to the blond, who was nodding along to Hermione's rants about some creature rights or the other. Malfoy glanced over at him before quickly looking away, his lips turning up in a small smirk, and Harry knew Malfoy wasn't paying attention to Hermione.

Harry stumbled over his feet and almost went flying into Malfoy.

"Looks like you're already drunk, Potter," Malfoy drawled, and his grey eyes widened when he heard his own voice. It came out high-pitched, and Harry burst into peals of laughter. Malfoy scowled at him, but Harry's sight was getting hazy.

"You sound ridiculous, Malfoy. What have you been drinking? Helium?" Harry asked, his cackles echoing in the ballroom. Why was his voice so loud? What was happening to him? Why did his brain seem so foggy? Had Malfoy drugged him Muggle-style or added some potion to his drink? Harry would not put it past Malfoy to resort to such juvenile tactics—hell, Harry would have done the same if he were in Malfoy's place.

"What's that?" Draco's tone was curious, but he clapped his hands over his mouth when the same squeaky voice came out. He glared at Harry, who laughed even harder.

"It's a colourless, odourless, tasteless, and non-toxic gas," Hermione recited immediately, and Harry nodded along. For once, he knew something Hermione did, and pride filled his chest at remembering something he had studied in school long ago. Back when he was in primary school, he had loved chemistry, but he had never been allowed to surpass Dudley in any subject—Uncle Vernon would always get furious at him and lock him in the cupboard for days.

"Of course, you know that," Nott said, shaking his head good-naturedly. "Come on, Granger. Let's leave these two to their childish antics. I want to discuss the recent laws about centaur territory with you."

Harry tried to come up with a retort, but his mind was blank.

"Are you going to be okay here, Harry?" Hermione asked, shooting Malfoy a suspicious glance filled with warning and unsaid threats.

"Yes, I can handle myself," Harry said, chuckling under his breath.

"Did you give him an LP, Draco?" Nott asked.

"Maybe," Malfoy squeaked, his scowl deepening. Harry didn't know what an LP was, but it must be something dangerous—it was Malfoy, after all. Even though the man had served his time in Azkaban and got out early on good behaviour, Harry still didn't believe Draco was up to any good.

Despite Harry's annoyance, a giggle escaped his lips, and he swayed against Malfoy's side. "I'm going to kill you, ferret," he said, still laughing.

Malfoy snorted. "You can't kill me. You're the supposed Saviour of the Wizarding World. How would people react to the news that you became a ruthless murderer?"

Harry started cackling which foiled his attempt to glare at the blond. The Gryffindor demanded, "What did you do to me?"

Malfoy countered, "What did you do to me? Give me the antidote."

Tears streamed down Harry's face. He clutched his aching sides and shook his head. His stomach was starting to hurt from the physical strain of laughing. "No way! Your voice is hilarious. Aren't you supposed to give a speech soon? Merlin, I can't wait to hear that!"

Malfoy's face paled, and he grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him towards the door. Harry clutched onto his stomach and laughed harder. "Malfoy, where are you taking me? Let me go!"

He tried to pull away from Malfoy's firm grip but couldn't; the laughter that kept bubbling up into his throat made it impossible for him to do anything. His chest was tight, and his breaths came in loud gasps. They passed by a few people, who looked at them strangely but didn't comment.

Draco kept his mouth shut near the group, but as soon as the two men were alone in the deserted hallway, he let go of Harry's arm and whirled around to face him.

"Potter, I did not spend years atoning for my sins just to ruin the day by giving a speech in this voice," Malfoy snapped, and Harry's body shook as another wave of laughter washed over him. "Keep laughing, Potter. I'm sure you'll wet your pants soon. Oh, how humiliating for you."

Harry cackled at Malfoy's high pitch, but his face paled at the thought. Malfoy wanted to humiliate him, and he wanted to do the same in return. In his drunk state, Harry thought out loud, "Merlin, we're like two peas in a pod."

"How dare you? We are not the same," Malfoy squeaked out. "I cannot begin to express how diff—"

"Yes, we are," Harry said, giggling. Hermione had said something similar earlier that evening. "You're trying to embarrass me, and I'm trying to embarrass you."

"Yes, but other than that, we're the complete opposites," Malfoy stated, crossing his arms over his chest. He shook his head a couple of times for some reason and reached towards the wall to steady himself.

Harry blinked and swayed on his feet. Was it just him, or were there two Malfoys in front of him? Maybe he was drunker than he thought.

"Hermione thinks we would get along if we got to know each other," Harry said, the pitch of his voice rising as he mimicked Hermione's voice.

"Granger knows nothing," Malfoy muttered and groaned, rubbing his temple. "I'm going to kill you, Potter. I can't believe you poisoned me with this—this thing!"

"It's not poison, Malfoy. If I'd poisoned you, you'd know," Harry said, stumbling towards the wall and sliding down. His laughter was slowly subsiding, and according to the label on the WWW vial, Malfoy's voice would soon go back to normal, too.

"Okay, yes, that's another thing we both would use," Malfoy said.

"What did you give me?"

"Just a Laughing Potion. It will wear off soon. How could you be an investor in their company and not recognise their stock? What did you give me?"

"A Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product."

"Figures." Malfoy shuffled closer to the wall and plopped down with little grace. Pulling his legs up to his chest, Malfoy dropped his head onto his knees. It was such an uncharacteristic thing for him to do that Harry openly gaped at him.

"My life sucks, Potter," Malfoy muttered, not looking at him. "I don't think you'd understand how important this function was for me. For my family. I would have brought honour to my family's name today—but no, you had to go and mess it up for me."

Was Malfoy trying to guilt-trip him? Harry stared at him for a second before snorting loudly. "Oh, please, Malfoy. Don't talk to me about sucky lives. Is sucky even a word? Where's a dictionary when you need it? Or better yet—Hermione?"

"Yes, sucky is a word." Malfoy lifted his head and glared at him. "It means 'disagreeable' or 'unpleasant.' Like your hair."

"Or like your personality," Harry shot back, his shoulders trembling with suppressed laughter. It was getting easier to control his laughter.

"Or like your face," Malfoy said, his tone saccharine-sweet.

"Or like my childhood."

"Mine was worse," Malfoy said.

Harry shook his head. There was no way a hoity-toity life in Malfoy's manor was worse than living in a cupboard under the stairs. "Mine was worse."

"No, mine."

"No, mine."

Before they could continue arguing, heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, and Harry looked up to find Ron striding towards them.

"There you are, Harry!" Ron cried, and Harry cringed at how loud Ron's voice was. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What are you doing here with him?"

"Sod off, Weasel," Malfoy grumbled. Ron ignored him.

"Discussing our origin stories," Harry said with a giggle. Comic books were the only things Ron loved to read, so he would understand what Harry meant. "He claims his childhood was worse, but I say mine was."

"We don't have time for this, Harry," Ron said, crouching down in front of him. "We need to get back to the party. You can't be seen drunk like this. Come on, up you get."

"No, not until you tell Malfoy my childhood was worse," Harry whined, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Wha—"

Malfoy interrupted Ron. "I can bet on it that my life was worse."

"Oh, yeah? Prove it!" Harry challenged, turning around to face Malfoy. He pointed at Ron and said, "Ron, you'll be the impartial judge."

"He can't be the judge. He's your best friend." Malfoy glared at Ron, but Harry shook his head.

"He'll only pick me if my childhood was worse than yours," Harry stated. "Which it was, of course."

Ron groaned and said, "Fine, I'll judge this—whatever this thing is. Where is Hermione when you need her?"

"Great," Harry exclaimed. "Malfoy, I'll start. My childhood was worse than yours because my uncle's sister would set her dogs on me, and I would have to crawl up the tree to escape their sharp teeth, while my cousin would stand there laughing at me."

Malfoy glared at him before clearing his throat. "My childhood was worse than yours because a group of albino peacocks would run after me to peck my hair with their sharp beaks, and my grandfather would tell me it builds character."

Ron's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything.

Harry said, "Well, I was locked up in a dark cupboard under the stairs with only spiders and dust mites to keep me company."

Draco snorted. "Boo-hoo. My father locked me in the cold and dark dungeons when I told him I was scared of the dark."

"I didn't even know my name until I went to school. Uncle Vernon only called me 'boy' or 'freak'."

"Grandfather called me 'the worst Malfoy on the planet' before he tortured me. Ha! Beat that, Potter!"

"Merlin," Ron whispered, sounding horrified, covering his face with his hands.

Harry waved Malfoy off. "My uncle would leave me out in the snow for the entire night if he thought I had done something wrong. I would be a nice little Harry-sicle in the morning. I almost lost my fingers to frostbite."

"My father would strike me with his cane and hang me by my toes in the dungeon if I spoke too loud."

"Please, stop," Ron whimpered, his face still buried in his hands, but neither man paid him any attention.

"I never had any toys to play with. All I had were Dudley's hand-me-downs, and sometimes, he would piss on them before giving them to me."

"When I asked Father to buy me toys, he would hand me a bloody house-elf instead. He would teach me how to torture them before kicking me out of his study."

"At least you had your father. I'm an orphan," Harry countered.

"The house-elves brought me up, Potter. Father was always busy with his work, and Mother was often in Paris or Milan buying the latest clothes or having tea with her friends. I was all alone in the manor with no one to talk to."

"No one wanted to talk to me, either. I didn't have any friends in school. Dudley and his gang always bullied me, and I would have to run as fast as I could to get away from them. Otherwise, I would end up with broken limbs."

"Well, I didn't have any friends in Hogwarts either. Crabbe and Goyle were my lackeys, and you humiliated me in front of everyone by refusing to be my friend."

"Merlin's beard," Ron cried. He reached out and smacked their heads.

"Ow!" Harry and Malfoy cried out in unison. "What did you do that for?"

"You two need to speak to Mind-Healers! What do they call those in the Muggle world, Harry? Psychopaths?"

"Psychiatrists," Harry said, correcting him. "And no, I'm fine, Ron."

"No. No, you're not," Ron said, shaking his head. He pointed at them both. "You two need some serious help. I can't even choose whose childhood was worse! Merlin, please, Malfoy, go to a Mind-Healer. You too, Harry. You know what, I'll Floo them myself in the morning."

"For me too?" Draco asked, surprised.

"Yes, I was traumatised just by listening. I can't imagine what living with that must feel like." Ron stood up and dusted himself off. "Now, if you two will excuse me, I have better things to do than stay here and listen to you go on about your miserable lives. Please..."

With that, he walked off, leaving Harry and Malfoy alone once again.

Harry fiddled with his stiff shirt and said, "Do you want to go find someone who'll finish judging our childhoods? Or should we just complain to each other?"

"The second option," Malfoy declared. He stumbled to his feet and helped Harry up, dropping his hand right afterwards. "It's enough Weasley thinks I need help—I don't want others to judge me, too."

"Good idea." Harry wrapped his arm around Malfoy's shoulder, leaning against him as they stumbled towards the lift. "So, did I tell you about the time I found myself on the roof of the school building…"