Roll and fall in green

by Dontthrowsticksatme

Draco Malfoy starts Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with high hopes. Then he discovers he's in the same year as the biggest celebrity in the country: The Boy Who Lived. (This is basically the Harry Potter series from Draco's point of view, with a Drarry-twist. It is also my other fic Crimson and Clover from Draco's point of view.)

5. Chapter 4-2: The Yule ball

Chapter 4: The Yule ball (Part 2 of 3)

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Author's notes:

Like I said in the previous chapter note: I added some ghosts to Malfoy Manor. You can find all scenes about them by doing a search of the word 'ghost' in chapter one, two and four. The ghosts are meant to make a return in later chapters.

(My favourite one is Geralt, even though his role is small so far. In my head he looks like a cross between Geralt of Rivia and Gerard Way in his black parade ensemble, although that's probably historically incorrect.)

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People were not as eager to forget about what Moody had done as Draco was. For days, it was all everyone talked about.

The whole incident did point out who Draco's worst enemies were at school. The Slytherins kept mostly quiet about it, although Marcus Flint liked to "joke" how Draco should hold onto his ferret-qualities so he could sniff out the Snitch, or if he could ask Moody to change him again for their next match so he'd be more aerodynamic on a broom.

'You know, he could turn you into an erumpent and it would still be an improvement,' Draco snarled back, but Flint would just keep laughing at him like Draco was the pathetic one.

Pansy called him a 'sad little man,' but Draco wondered what it would make him if even the sad little men laughed at him.

At their next Care of Magical Creatures lessons, they discovered that the Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace, given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of their 'project,' suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the Skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behaviour.

'I will not,' said Draco flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. 'I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks.'

Hagrid's smile faded off his face. 'Yeh'll do wha' yer told,' he growled, 'or I'll be takin' a leaf out ta Professor Moody's book… I hear yeh made a good ferret, Draco.'

Draco felt the blood rush to his face as the Gryffindors roared with laughter. He shot them a hateful look – and noticed that The Boy Who Lived was not laughing along. With his hands in his pockets, Harry J. Potter shuffled away from his jeering friends.

The incident didn't only point out his true enemies, but also, it turned out, his true allies. Draco was almost – almost – thankful for their deranged new Professor.

. . .

At last they found out exactly what Draco's parents had been talking about with those important Ministry Friends. There was going to be a Tri-Wizard Tournament: a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion would be selected to represent each school, and the three champions would compete in three Magical tasks. Only students who were of age – seventeen years or older – would be allowed to put forward their names for consideration.

In October, the heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrived with their short-listed contenders – and among the contenders for Durmstrang was none other than Viktor Krum. Draco's heart skipped a beat when he saw the famous Quidditch player up close.

'They're coming over here!' hissed Pansy, when the exchange students entered the Great Hall for their first dinner together.

Draco desperately straightened his back and tried to act cool. It was very difficult with his heart racing out of his chest and his hands trembling.

He didn't dare look at the group of Durmstrang students that settled themselves at the Slytherin table, afraid he'd faint or something. Then he saw Pansy's eyes grow big as saucers.

Gingerly, he glanced to his left, catching a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eye brows. Settling himself at the empty seat besides Vincent, was Viktor Krum.

Draco wanted to scream, crow, howl at the moon! Instead, he kept his cool and casually leaned over to introduce himself, trying to think of something – anything – he could say. What did one say to a famous Quidditch player?! What would he say to an average person? Thank Merlin he had been introduced to celebrities since he could talk; the proper etiquette was ingrained in him, giving him something to fall back on.

'Hullo,' he said. 'I'm Draco Malfoy. What do you think of Hogwarts so far?'

'Very small,' said Krum, scowling.

Draco, Vincent and Gregory exchanged proud looks. Sitting next to Viktor Krum felt like a personal achievement.

. . .

When they entered the candlelit Great Hall on the night the Champions were chosen, the Goblet of Fire was standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table – and Viktor Krum was sitting with the Slytherins again. Draco and his friends proudly joined the Durmstrang students.

'I hope it won't pick Marcus Flint,' grumbled Pansy, settling herself next to Daphne and Tracey, opposite Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. 'Can't stand the guy.'

'I hope it does and he's taken out in round one,' said Daphne.

'Oh, I hope it's Adrian,' sighed Tracey Davis with a dreamy smile. 'He's fine.'

'Did you know the Head Girl might have entered her name?' said Pansy. 'I don't know her, but they're saying she makes a good chance.'

Tracey gasped. 'You don't know Mary?!'

'She would be amazing,' said Daphne.

'I heard she could Apparate when she was twelve,' said Millicent Bulstrode soflty.

Draco looked up in surprise, because that girl hardly ever spoke.

'I heard she invented a spell to counter Fiendfyre,' Imogen Stratton one-upped Bulstrode's statement.

Tracey shook her head, waving a spoon. 'No, she can walk through it. I've seen her do it, actually.'

'Yeah, Mary does a heck of an Impervius,' said Daphne knowingly.

'Well, I've seen her turn a first-year into a dragon,' Imogen tried again.

'A dragon? Really?' said Pansy.

Tracey nodded excitedly. 'It's true. First she turned the girl into a dragon and then she put the whole thing in a teapot.'

'No way,' said Pansy.

'Really, it's true,' said Daphne. 'She put the lid on like she was about to ask us if we like Darjeeling.'

'The whole dragon,' Tracey emphasized, 'nose to tail, all in Mary's tea pot.'

The girls all nodded now, but Pansy frowned in bewilderment. 'How?'

The girls shrugged.

'Well, what can we say?' said Tracey, sipping her pumpkin juice. 'Mary is not someone to play around with.'

Clearly, Draco thought, looking across the Great Hall to see this Mary-person, but he didn't notice anything special about her. Her long hair was tied in a braid that reached to her waist, but she wasn't very tall or good-looking, and dressed in a faded Hogwarts uniform she looked exactly like everyone else in the castle.

'They're saying she's the only person Dumbledore has ever feared,' said Millicent.

Daphne braided her hair. 'You know, I don't believe she's real.'

Before anyone could react to that, Blaise Zabini spoilt the fun, leaning back in his chair next to Tracey, 'There's a rumour going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in.'

'Who cares,' said Tracey. 'He looks like a sloth.'

'Thank you, Tracey,' Pansy deadpanned, but Daphne gasped.

'Merlin, Tracey! You can't just call people sluts!'

And with that, Draco distanced himself from the conversation.

The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Like everyone else in the Hall – judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions, the fidgeting, and the standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet – Draco simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as Champions.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet.

'Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,' said Dumbledore. 'I estimate that it requires one more minute.' He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semi darkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it – the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white. One by one, in a strong, clear voice, he read the names of the champions for each school.

The champion for Durmstrang would be Viktor Krum – 'Quelle surprise,' Draco drawled – and the champion for Beauxbatons was someone named Fleur Delacour. The last one to be chosen – and the one Draco and his friends were most excited about – was the Hogwarts Champion.

Marcus Flint shut his eyes and crossed his fingers. Pansy glared murderously in his direction, whispering something no doubt malevolent to Daphne, who sniggered.

The Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

'The Hogwarts champion,' he called, 'is Cedric Diggory!'

Every single Hufflepuff jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly.

The Slytherin table was shrouded in a baffled silence. Blaise Zabini, lifting his eyebrows, finally put into words what everyone else was thinking.

'A Hufflepuff?' It sounded more surprised than anything.

Draco glanced at Flint. 'How embarrassing.'

They all shot sympathetic looks at Marcus, whose face was an extraordinary shade of purple. He was, after all, defeated by a Hufflepuff. Draco wondered if one could ever recover from such a level of public humiliation.

'What are we thinking, girls?' drawled Pansy, leaning back in her chair.

'He is easy on the eyes,' said Daphne.

Tracey pouted. 'He's no Adrian…'

'You know, I am sitting right here,' said Adrian from a bit further down the table. 'And I didn't even enter.'

Tracey smiled at him. 'Let a girl dream, darling.'

Before they could process this blow to the Slytherin reputation, the tumult suddenly died down. The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot into the air, and borne upon it was a fourth piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore.

Then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out –

'Harry Potter.'

. . .

Draco hated this school.

'There is absolutely no reason to follow the rules this strictly!' Draco complained in a furious hiss to his friends during Herbology the next day.

'Who cares, it's just a game,' said Crabbe.

'It's dangerous! The last time someone died!'

Smirking, Pansy leaned over from the table next to them. 'I'm sure you'll save him in time.'

'If we had a Slytherin Headmaster,' Draco grumbled, ignoring her, 'someone sensible, instead of that ancient, nutjob Mudblood-lover, this would never have even been a problem. My father – '

Professor Sprout cleared her throat looking at them. Apparently, everyone was listening to her except Draco and his friends.

'Now that you are all familiar with Dragon's Arum,' said Sprout, 'I have an announcement to make. The Yule Ball is approaching; a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests.'

Daphne and Tracey gasped. 'A ball!'

'Indeed,' Sprout said dryly. 'Now, this ball will be open only to fourth years and above, although you may invite a younger student if you wish.'

Vincent, Gregory and Draco shared uneasy looks.

'Dress robes will be worn,' Professor Sprout continued, 'and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall.'

The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders. Draco saw Pansy whispering furiously with her gang of Slytherin girls, no doubt discussing who they would like to go with. His stomach started to ache.

'Are we supposed to invite someone?' asked Gregory.

'I guess we are,' Draco replied miserably.

'Who?' asked Vincent.

'I have no idea…'

. . .

Draco kept his eye on Harry during dinner that night. The Boy Who Lived looked as distracted as everyone else after hearing the news about the ball – but he did not look at Draco once. Instead, he kept eyeing the Ravenclaw table. Why?

Pansy nudged Draco. 'Draconius, who's that?' she asked, pointing at another girl who walked up to the Ravenclaw table.

Draco snorted derisively. 'Loony Lovegood. Weirdest person alive, probably.'

'Loony?'

'Well, Luna… But she is loony. Look at her ears.'

For whatever reason, the girl was wearing cherries as earrings.

'Her father owns the Quibbler. My dad hates him with a passion. She believes in Nargles and Snorkacks.' Draco shared a look with Pansy, and concluded: 'Loony.'

Draco followed Harry's eyes, drifting from the table, and saw Ravenclaw's seeker, Cho Chang. His heart fell. Maybe Pansy was right when she'd said Draco was out of sight, out of mind with Potter.

. . .

There was no way Draco could forget about finding a date, or shove it to the back of his mind, as it was the main subject of discussion in the Slytherin Common Room for days on end. Some people had even already asked someone – Draco could only admire such adequacy.

Vincent, Gregory and Draco were playing Exploding Snap on the floor in a far corner of the Common Room, with Nimbostratus as their referee, while trying very hard not to think about dates, when Pansy fell down next to them.

'So?' she said. 'Who are you going to ask?'

'You, I suppose,' Draco drawled.

'Dream on, pretty boy.' She leaned over to him. 'I hope Blaise will ask me.'

Draco scoffed. 'Dream on, pretty girl.'

'Speaking of dreams…' Pansy smirked maliciously, and pompously sat up straight. 'Vinciento, Gregorius, I bet you ten dollars that Draco does not have the guts to ask Harry Potter for the ball.'

Vincent and Gregory guffawed stupidly. They seemed to agree.

'Why bother?' Draco felt absolutely miserable. 'He hates me.'

'Nonsense,' said Pansy.

'You didn't see how he looked at me that night of the World Cup… I suppose in his circle abusing Muggles is frowned-upon.'

Waving her hand, Pansy dismissed the concern, so Draco pulled out his last resort: 'He's into Cho Chang.'

Pansy wrinkled her nose in disgust. 'What?'

'I saw him eyeing her all through dinner. It was revoltingly obvious.'

Pansy's face fell. 'Oh babe, I'm sorry.'

'Yeah, whatever,' said Draco. 'I had no illusions.'

'Still, you should try. Cho's into that Hufflepuff champion.'

Draco shot her a look. 'Yeah right! As if Cho would ever choose some Hufflepuff over The Boy Who Lived.' Draco tapped his forehead. 'You're out of your mind, you are.'

'That's gonna be ten bucks for me.' Pansy grinned.

'Push off, Parky.' No way would he let her win that easily. He turned to face her. 'How about this: if I ask Potter and he says no, you have to be my date.'

Grinning, Pansy defiantly raised her chin. 'And if you're too chicken to ask Potter, you will have to do all my homework for a month.'

Draco thought about it. It was a fair deal. 'Tenu.'

'Deal.'

. . .

Care of Magical Creatures meant seeing the Gryffindors for the first time since the Goblet of Fire spat out Potter's name.

'Ah, look, boys, it's the Champion,' Draco said to Crabbe and Goyle the moment they arrived at Hagrid's hut and Draco spotted Harry standing next to the Mudblood. 'Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt he's going to be around much longer…'

No reaction.

'Half the Triwizard champions have died,' Draco loudly told his friends. 'How long d'you reckon you're going to last, Potter?'

Still nothing.

'Ten minutes into the first task's my bet.'

Finally, Harry's head shot up – but the look on his face could only be described as devastated.

For a second, Draco's stomach clenched. Then Potter seemed to grow three sizes. His hair rose up like an angry cat's fur, and he lunged himself at Draco. He started pushing and pushing him as if Draco was the source of everything wrong in his life – and Draco had a hard time hiding a smile.

'You know I didn't want this,' Harry hissed. 'Ron's not talking to me because he thinks I planned this behind his back, and I do not need that from you!'

Trying his best not to show his joy, Draco put his hands in the air and turned his back to the group. 'I know, Potter,' he softly said. 'I don't really want you to die.'

'Well, that's awfully kind!'

Harry was as angry with him as he was on that night of the World Cup, Draco realized. He breathed in. 'Look, you hate my guts and I hate yours, let's – '

Harry's face fell; his shoulders dropped. 'What?'

Draco blinked. 'You – You can't… Potter, you know about my parents.'

Harry grabbed Draco's arm, and to his delight, Draco found himself being hauled behind Hagrid's hut by The Boy Who Lived. To fulfil his fantasies even more, Harry Potter slammed him into the side of the cabin.

Now kiss, Draco begged – but alas.

While Draco stared at Harry's mouth and relished in the sensation of Harry's hand pushing against his chest, Potter was talking to him. Real words, in a solemn tone. Forcing his wild imagination to the back of his mind, Draco tried to focus on what was actually happening. It took an almighty effort.

'I wrote to you all summer, right?' Harry hissed.

The butterflies in Draco's belly were a lot harder to push away. Potter looked amazing. His hair was long and shiny and messy and he had freckles – perfect little summer freckles. Draco want to plant little kisses on each one of them. He had grown too, not in length but in his shoulders, his arms and his jaw.

'Was that not you?!' Harry pressed on.

Draco supressed a grin. 'I told you, it was Tom Riddle.'

'Dra!'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Alright, calm down, Harry, you know perfectly well it was me – but that was before.'

Draco wondered if Harry forgot what happened after the Quidditch World Cup. Didn't it change things? They were not on each other's sides.

'I don't care,' Harry said sincerely. 'You didn't do those things, right?'

Draco needed to let the words sink in. He put his hands in his pocket and leaned against the cabin wall – Harry Potter didn't care about what his parents had done? He didn't care that Draco all but told Potter and his friends about the fun night his parents were having at the Muggles' expense?

Harry scowled. 'Snape hates me because of my dad, I am not going to be like him. You're not your parents, Draco.'

'Yeah,' he scoffed, 'right…'

Everyone with a pinch of sensibility knew Draco was exactly his parents. He had his father's dramatic streak, resentful nature and persistence. He had his mother's stubbornness, her sense of humour and her intelligence. He had his father's eyes and hair, and his mother's physique and mouth. Every part of Draco Malfoy's being could be pinpointed back to an ancestor. Draco Malfoy was his bloodline.

Harry didn't reply. His eyes started to wander. His lashes seemed to be stroking Draco's skin.

Draco could stand like this and watch the boy forever. Harry was such a joy to look at…

Unexpectedly, Potter's eyes shot up and locked on Draco's, hitting him like a bombshell – and Draco very nearly kissed him, right then and there. He barely managed to refrain, and only by furiously forcing himself to think about the Dark Lord returning, or the way Potter ruined his life: sending their House Elf away, snogging blood-traitors in secret chambers, ogling Ravenclaw Seekers, making him lose the Snitch…

Oh, how he longed to tell Harry everything his parents told him, and for Harry to repeat that it didn't matter. They were not meant to be friends, Draco reminded himself, but Merlin, he wanted him so bad.

After hours or seconds or months, Draco recovered some words from the eternal pit of bliss and agony he'd fallen into.

'You know what I am,' he uttered, 'where I come from. And the way I am.'

Harry slumped against the wall next to Draco. 'I do, yeah.'

Draco held his breath.

'You're a real bitch.'

Draco snorted, and Harry smiled. He smiled and smiled and smiled, and the silliest little sprinkle of hope started to grow in Draco's chest. No one had ever smiled at Draco like that… and he didn't remember Harry ever smiling like that at anyone else – right? Did he smile like that at Cho Chang? Did people smile like that at their enemies?

He remembered Pansy's theory about Harry's hair and the Riddle of his Existence… And –

Oh, darn it all! Merlin knew Draco had his fair share of humiliation, he reckoned, so how much worse could one disgrace more or less be in the grand scheme of things? The question was burning inside him – It was only a few words – He had to, simply had to – Come on!

'Do you want to go to the Yule ball with me?'

Harry jumped to his feet. Wide-eyed he stared at Draco, while Draco's stomach tightened and twirled. He felt nervous to the point of feeling sick.

'Yes,' Harry whispered.

Draco Malfoy might as well have exploded.

'Okay,' Harry confirmed. 'God yes. I mean: hell yeah. Yes, please.' He jammed his jaws together and lowered his eyes.

Draco's happiness came bubbling out in the form of laughter. He wanted to grab Potter's cheeks and kiss his stupid face. Stiffly, he crossed his arms.

'That's affirmative then?' he brought out.

Harry looked away. He was smiling again, and leaning back against the cabin wall, he bumped into Draco's shoulder. It sent tiny bolts of lightning through Draco's entire body.

Harry J. Potter… said yes.

To keep himself from grabbing his homeboy, Draco pushed his hands deep into his pockets, and he watched – He watched as, slowly but steadily, Harry's face clouded over.

'Second thoughts?'

Harry nervously ruffled through his hair, looking suddenly sick. 'Yes.'

'Yeah… People will talk.'

Snorting, Harry glanced at Draco, who scowled. 'I hope you didn't let Ron buy you one of those ghastly suits.'

It made Harry laugh. 'Nah… I planned to… to wear that Christmas jumper you love so much, with–...'

'With leggings?'

Harry burst out laughing. He quickly stifled it, but it was too late: Hagrid showed up and forced them to re-join the class.

Draco let out an exasperated sigh and slowly made his way back to the group. Warm fingers touched his hand. The sensation shot through Draco's spine like hot water in the shower.

'Maybe ask me again next week?' Harry said softly.

Draco's mind was a mess; he ran on autopilot. 'Forget it, Potter… If you're still alive next week it's on you to ask me.'

Harry beamed as they made their way back to the group.

'The only solution,' Hagrid was telling the class when Draco and Harry joined their friends again, 'is to take them for a short walk.'

It distracted Draco at once. 'Take this thing for a walk?' he repeated in disgust, staring into one of the boxes. 'And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?'

The rest of the hour, Draco focussed with all his might on the lesson, certain he would be either combusting, screaming or cartwheeling if he gave into his feelings even an inch.

When the class was over at long last, and The Boy Who Lived had strolled out of hearing distance, Draco grabbed Pansy's arm and dragged her away from her friends.

'You don't have to go with me to the Yule ball.'

Pansy tried to pull loose from him. 'Push off, Draco, I was talking to Tracey!'

'He said yes.'

Pansy froze. For a second, she looked confused. Then, her chin dropped to the ground.

Draco had a terribly difficult time not to show his overflowing excitement. He shrugged, violently pressing down the corners of his mouth, and failing. 'Potter's going with me.'

'You – ' Pansy's eyes were like saucers. 'You asked him? Already?'

A giggle escaped Draco. He felt like screaming, but his classmates were too near.

Pansy grabbed his arm and for the second time that day, Draco found himself being hauled behind Hagrid's cabin.

'You're saying you're going to the Yule Ball with Harry James Potter? Who you've been pining for since you saw him?'

Draco nodded, his face contorted in a proud grin. Sighing heavily, he grabbed Pansy's face and pushed their foreheads together. 'He wants to go with me! Can you believe it?'

'I can! I told you so!'

Pansy was grinning and laughing and shrieking, and then Draco crowed like a rooster at the top of his lungs. It was either that, or puking. 'Oh Merlin, I am so in love with him.'

Pansy flung her arms around his neck and slapped his head a few times. 'I'm proud of you, stupid tosser. You actually did it.'

He pushed her away. 'You cannot tell anyone! It is my secret!'

Pansy looked annoyed and thrilled at the same time. 'Ooh, but it is such a good secret!'

Draco almost kissed her. He felt way too much love for any human being to handle. It was bubbling over.

. . .

All through the rest of the week Draco couldn't think of anything other than Harry Potter. He floated through life on thick, fluffy clouds. Yet even through his rose-coloured glasses he noticed a weird vibe surrounding The Boy Who Lived. Whenever Draco spotted him, the boy had his eyes on the ground and his shoulders pulled up high, as if trying to make himself invisible. All the other students – and not just Slytherins – were looking at him as though he were a particularly large Blast-Ended Skrewt. People seemed to think that Harry had been desperate to earn himself a bit more fame by tricking the goblet into accepting his name.

'Such idiots!' he growled at Vincent and Gregory as they watched Potter walk past in the East Wing, getting foul looks from nearly everyone. 'Isn't it obvious he didn't want all this? If he did this on purpose, wouldn't he be boasting about how he managed to do it? I would! As if he could have tricked Dumbledore! They're always claiming he's the most powerful wizard of our time, and now they all expect fourteen-year old Potter to have hoodwinked him? It's ridiculous!'

Later that night in the Slytherin Common Room, Draco was still fuming about it.

'I don't understand those people. How do they go from loving him to hating him within a day's time? It doesn't make sense.'

'It's because he's not the real champion,' Blaise Zabini tried to explain, wagging his pinched fingers like the strange Italian he was.

'Real,' Draco scoffed. 'Let's not get into the definition of real now, please. They just want an excuse to be angry. Common enemies conciliate butchers and vegetarians, my father says.'

Right as Draco remembered that, a plan popped into his brain… Father also said: "Where emotions run high, profits run high." There was always a way to financially exploit people's hearts. He could abuse his fellow students' anger – and then, after this was all over, he could treat Harry to something expensive.

For the next couple of days Draco locked himself up in his dorm and only came out to eat, go to classes or rush through some homework.

'DRACONIUS! Stop it!'

'No! Darn it, Pansy, get your cat out!'

Nimbostratus slammed his things from the bed to make room for himself. Pansy did absolutely nothing to stop him. 'Look what I found! You have to teach me!'

She'd slammed the curtain around his bed away and dropped a book on his project. Draco tried to save what he could.

'Look!' she yelled while turning the pages and pressing them into Draco's face until he laughed and pushed her away. It was a clear sign of how happy he was that he didn't hex her.

Sniggering, she sat down next to him. 'It's so romantic.'

She was showing him the book she'd gifted Draco that summer: Magic For The Hopelessly Romantic. 'Basiatio,' the paragraph read. 'Kiss charm.'

'Oh,' Draco said. 'Interesting…'

For one evening, his project was forgotten. There were more important things in life than money, and being able to plant a kiss on someone from a safe distance was one of them.

. . .

When Potter arrived at Snape's Dungeon a few weeks later, he found the Slytherins waiting outside, each and every one of them wearing a large badge on the front of their robes. They all bore the same message, in luminous red letters that burnt brightly in the dimly lit underground passage: SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY – THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!

'Like them, Potter?' said Draco loudly as Harry approached.

Every single Slytherin had bought one from him, earning Draco twenty Knuts profit each. He'd already made over two Galleons profit – on the first day of selling them.

The real test was Harry's reaction. 'And this isn't all they do – look!'

He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed green: POTTER STINKS!

The Slytherins howled with laughter – but better yet: Harry Potter laughed!

Each of the Slytherins pressed their badges now, until the message POTTER STINKS was shining brightly all around The Boy Who Lived, who started to blush.

He stepped closer to Draco and touched the button to inspect it. 'How did you even make those? How long did you spend on this?'

Draco poised himself like a true Malfoy and opened his mouth to tell Harry that a Wizard never revealed his secrets –

'Oh very funny,' Granger loudly interrupted, glaring at Pansy and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were laughing louder than anyone, 'really witty.'

'Want one, Granger?' offered Draco, holding out a badge to Granger. 'I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up.'

Harry stepped away. 'Alright, mate, you ruined it.'

The word felt like a slap in Draco's face. 'How dare you call me mate!'

Before he could recover, the Weasley appeared in front of them, pointing his wand at Draco. People all around them scrambled out of the way, backing down the corridor.

'Ron!' Granger warned.

Weasley didn't do anything though. What was he waiting for, Draco thought, a herald?

'Go on, then, Weasley,' said Draco quietly, drawing out his own wand. 'Moody's not here to look after you now – do it, if you've got the guts.'

'Dra, no – '

At exactly the same time, both acted.

'Furnunculus!' Ron yelled.

'Densaugeo!' screamed Draco.

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in mid-air, and ricocheted off at angles – Draco's hit Granger in the face, and Ron's hit Goyle.

Gregory bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up – Granger, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.

Pansy hurried over to Goyle. She and Draco inspected the boils, but they seemed relatively harmless. Vincent offered him a Cauldron Cake, which Gregory gratefully accepted.

'And what is all this noise about?' said a soft, deadly voice.

Snape had arrived. The students clamoured to give their explanations. Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Draco and said, 'Explain.'

'Ron attacked me, sir –'

'They attacked each other at the same time!' Harry shouted.

' – and he hit Goyle – look – '

Snape examined Gregory, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.

'Hospital wing, Goyle,' Snape said calmly.

'Malfoy got Hermione!' Weasley said. 'Look!'

He forced the Mudblood to show Snape her teeth – she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar.

Pansy and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles. Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, 'I see no difference.'

Draco burst out laughing. Granger turned on her heel and ran up the corridor and out of sight. Both Potter and Weasley started shouting at Snape.

'Let's see,' Snape said, in his silkiest voice. 'Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions.'

Harry passed Snape, walked to the back of the Dungeon, and slammed his bag down onto a table. He looked ready to kill, Draco noticed fondly. Oh, how he would die to see Potter kill…

Draco and Vincent sat down near Snape's desk at the front of the Dungeon. Leaning his chin on his arms, Draco peeked at his homeboy, who appeared to be imploding with fury at his lone table.

At some point his surprise had taken a wrong turn, Draco pondered, as he replayed the scene in the hallway in his mind. Luckily, he had another trick up his sleeve – thanks to Pansy. He took out his wand and aimed it as well as he could at the back of Potter's neck. '

'Basiatio,' he whispered.

Harry jumped and whirled around. Blinking in confusion, he touched the back of his neck. Draco chuckled.

Harry spotted him. Smirking, Draco pressed his badge. 'Potter stinks' flashed once more across the room.

Harry blushed.

. . .

'Draco, look!' cried a choir of girls across the breakfast table.

Tracey held up a copy of Witch Weekly, with on the front page a life size picture of Harry Potter's face.

Shrieking with laughter, Pansy yanked it out of Tracey's hands and used a Severing Charm to cut off the cover. 'Here, you can stick it on your wall!'

A heat rose to Draco's cheeks as the entire table laughed. 'Piss off, Pansy.'

Daphne grabbed the photo from her. 'We need to frame it properly. He's a Malfoy, after all.'

Tracey heaved a dreamy sigh, caressing Potter's face. 'Oh yes, a golden frame with emeralds… It would bring out his eyes…'

All three of the girls were scrutinizing the photo all of a sudden. 'He does have gorgeous eyes,' Daphne admitted.

'But his nose looks all weird,' said Pansy, sniggering as she drew a moustache on Potter's upper lip.

Draco felt a strong need to yank the photo out of Pansy's hands, but knew better than to actually do it.

'Remember Rothilda's theory about his hair?' Tracey taunted and they all dropped the photo to get back to gossiping.

'Romilda is getting wilder every day,' said Daphne. 'She's planning to start a school paper, did you know?'

'A paper!' Tracey jeered. 'On her own? She should ask Loony!'

'She says she wants to report on what's happening in the castle,' Daphne continued. 'But me and Imogen think it's just a way to stalk Potter.'

Draco braced himself.

'Oh!' Tracey and Pansy jeered in unison. 'She should ask Draco!'

The gang of girls laughed like they'd never heard a better joke in their laugh. Draco glared at them.

'This is gold!' shrieked Pansy after a few minutes of blissful silence. 'Listen! Listen!' She waved to get everyone's attention and cleared her throat. '"I suppose I get my strength from my parents, says Potter, teary-eyed. 'I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now. Sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it. I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me."'

'Aaaaw,' said her gang of girls, while the other Slytherins at the table laughed thunderously.

'Sssh, there's more, there's more!' said Pansy. '"Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts –"'

'Oh, Malfoy, it's about you!'

'Shut up, Daphne!' screamed Pansy. 'Listen! "His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school."'

Draco was fuming. Looking across the Great Hall, he saw Harry and Granger sitting together, away from everyone else. Had he been a fool all this time?

'I don't want to hear it,' said Draco, but Pansy didn't listen.

To escape her piercing voice, he beckoned Crabbe and Goyle to get out of the Great Hall. They could eat their breakfast in peace in the courtyard.

That morning, Draco had trouble to let the words go. On their way to class, he tugged at Pansy's coat and muttered, 'Do you think Granger is pretty?'

Pansy snorted derisively. 'You have nothing to worry about, darling. If you're a unicorn, she's a flobberworm, if you get my drift. The rest isn't true either, right? We all know Potter is far from a top student.'

Draco nodded. 'Right…'

When the Slytherins passed Potter on their way to History of Magic, Marcus Flint shouted, 'Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?'

When they crossed the Gryffindors on their way to Charms and Blaise Zabini slammed a fist in the inside of his elbow, snarling, 'Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter?'

'Or is this a school you and Longbottom set up together?' added Daphne.

They almost peed themselves laughing.

Walking backwards to watch Harry's reaction, Draco spotted the boy wheeling around towards an innocent Cho Chang. 'Yeah, that's right!' he roared, almost spitting fire, 'I've just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I'm off to do a bit more!'

Draco laughed, glowing with fondness. It was his favourite thing in the world to watch Harry Potter lose his temper. Especially if his victim was one of Draco's rivals in the battle for Potter's heart.

Someone who didn't lose her temper was Granger. 'Stunningly pretty? Her?' Pansy had shrieked the first time they had come face-to-face with the Mudblood after Rita's article had appeared. 'What was she judging against – a chipmunk?'

They all had a great laugh, but Granger strutted past them like a prima donna of the gutter.

. . .

'You have to eat, idiot,' said Pansy on the morning of the first task.

Draco was far too busy staring at Potter, whose skin looked a little green. 'How can I eat when Harry Potter is about to die?' he snarled.

'A little less drama wouldn't be a bad look for you.'

'A little less bothering me wouldn't be for you.'

Pansy rolled her eyes and ate a big, full plate of breakfast. He felt like slamming her face into it – hard. Actually, he felt like flipping over the entire table. Everyone seemed so careless and happy, eating their breakfast, chatting, laughing. As if it was all perfectly normal what was about to happen. As if Harry J. Potter – Saviour of the Wizarding World and Draco Malfoy's Yule Ball date – wasn't left to be sacrificed in a game of life and death.

After breakfast Draco followed Vincent, Gregory and Pansy with her gang of girls to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. They kept walking so far around the perimeter of the forest that the castle and the lake were out of sight. There, around the edge of the forest, a large tent had been erected, and they could hear men shouting up ahead.

A deafening, ear splitting roar sounded and the girls let out high pitched screams. Vincent and Gregory moved closer to Draco, who grabbed his wand.

For a split second he thought he was seeing bonfires, and men darting around them – and then his mouth fell open. 'Dragons!'

Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting. Fifty feet above the ground, torrents of fire were shooting into the sky from their open, fanged mouths.

There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground; a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping with all its might; a red one with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air; and a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others, which was nearest to them.

At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, were attempting to control them, pulling at chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs.

Mesmerized, Draco looked up, high above him, and saw the eyes of the black dragon, with vertical pupils like a cat's, bulging with either fear or rage, he couldn't tell which… It was making a horrible noise, a yowling, screeching scream.

Vincent tugged at his elbow. Pansy and her friends were already climbing the stands further along the edge of the Forest. Crabbe, Goyle and Draco followed them.

'I heard,' said a voice behind them – Blaise Zabini had suddenly popped up, 'they can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet. One of the Weasleys said the Horntail can reach forty feet.'

'Sure, why not?' drawled Draco. 'Let's watch a fourteen year old try to kill a dragon.'

'It's illegal to kill them,' said Blaise. 'They're an endangered species. I reckon they have to get past them or something. Maybe to save someone?'

'Ooh, if that is all,' he scoffed. 'Did you hear that, Goyle? They simply have to get past four dragons – children's matinée.'

'There's four dragons and four champions,' Blaise calculated, the little arithmetician, 'probably not a coincidence, right?'

Draco rolled his eyes at Crabbe and Goyle, and decided to ignore him, if only for his own well-being.

They sat down behind Pansy and her friends. The stands looked out over another enclosure, looking like an arena. As they watched the stands fill up with students – all talking excitedly, laughing, joking – the first dragon was lured in. Five of the dragon tamers carried a clutch of huge granite-grey eggs between them in a blanket. They laid them in a nest, next to an equally huge golden egg.

After a few minutes, a whistle blew and Ludo Bagman's voice sounded through the enclosure, telling the crowd about the dragons and the task the champions had to carry out: steal the golden egg from the dragon's nest.

'That's impossible!' uttered Daphne Greengrass, while Bagman talked about the Swedish Short-Snout that Cedric Diggory had to get past.

Draco crossed his arms, scowling at the world for allowing this to happen.

The crowd screamed, yelled, gasped like a single, many-headed entity as Cedric walked into the arena and tried to get past the Swedish Short-Snout. He Transfigured a rock on the ground and turned it into a dog, trying to make the dragon go for the dog instead of him. Halfway through, the dragon changed its mind and decided it would rather have Cedric than the Labrador.

'Clever move!' said Bagman. 'Pity it didn't work!'

Draco couldn't help but snigger at that. 'Potter's bound to be better than this clown,' he snarled.

'Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow!' yelled Bagman when Cedric only just got away from the dragon's fire. 'He's taking risks, this one!'

'That's one word for it,' said Blaise.

The crowd's roar was deafening when Cedric captured the egg. He had to go to the Hospital Wing for his burns, though.

'Fun fact: Cedric's seventeen,' Draco pointed out. 'He's almost graduated.'

His friends were on the edge of their seats to watch the game, pointedly ignoring him.

'Oy, Zabini, our miracle calculator, what's the difference between seventeen and fourteen?'

'Fanculo, Malfoy.'

'Three years!' Draco shouted. 'That's eighteen percent older! And he barely survived!'

Pansy turned around in her chair. 'Shut up, Draco, you're ruining it for everyone.'

'He's got burns,' Draco snarled. 'He's eighteen percent older than Potter and he's got burns!'

'Honey…' Pansy seized his hands. 'It's a Hufflepuff.'

This was a comforting reminder. Draco breathed out.

'One down, three to go!' Bagman shouted. The whistle blew again. 'Miss Delacour, if you please!'

Fleur tried a charm to put her Welsh Green-dragon in a trance. It fell asleep, but then it snored as she climbed in the nest to get the egg and a great jet of flame shot out of the dragon's nose, making her skirt catch fire. She had to put it out with water from her wand.

'Why,' screamed Pansy, 'why would you wear a skirt to slay a dragon? Was she raised by my mother?!'

'Yeah, she should take it off,' said Blaise, grinning.

He received about seven slapping charms from the girls.

'Tosser,' he whispered, smirking at Crabbe and Goyle, while Blaise cowered and wailed.

With every burn the older students suffered, Draco got increasingly more nervous. They hadn't been taught any of the magic the other Champions performed yet. How could Potter ever survive? He would be grilled in an instant, and there was no way the Professors could prevent something that happened in an instant.

For the third time, the whistle sounded. 'And here comes Mr. Krum!' cried Bagman, and Viktor Krum slouched into the enclosure.

'You know, this all reminds me of the Roman Empire,' Draco loudly remarked. 'Bread and circuses, you see. Those were the days – I suppose that's what Dumbledore thought.'

His friends still ignored him.

Krum was quite good, Draco had to admit: he hit his Chinese Fireball-dragon in the eye with a powerful spell.

'Very daring!' Bagman yelled, while the Chinese Fireball emitted a horrible, roaring shriek, and the crowd drew its collective breath.

The dragon went trampling around in agony and squashed half the real eggs.

'That's some nerve he's showing! – And – Yes! He's got the egg!'

Applause shattered the wintery air like breaking glass. Then the whistle – for the last time…

A soft whimper escaped Draco and he covered his eyes.

Pansy turned around to pat his knee. 'He won't die, Draconius. Not yet, I hope – my bet was halfway through the second task, so fingers crossed!'

Draco called her a very nasty word, then covered his eyes again.

When the last dragon got hauled into the enclosure, he heard Pansy gasp and Blaise going, 'Ooh!' as if he was in physical pain.

Draco peeked through his fingers.

The last dragon left was the Hungarian Horntail: the gigantic black dragon. As it was sweeping its tail in the direction of the crowd, Draco saw long, bronze-coloured spikes protruding along it every few inches.

Draco squealed in fright. 'The others didn't have spikes. They didn't have spikes, right? Do they want my Harry dead?'

Blaise shrugged like he deemed that plausible, which did not help Draco's nausea. Meanwhile, Pansy whooped and hollered, apparently having the time of her life.

At the other end of the enclosure, a tiny figure appeared through the gap in the fence.

'Oh, Harry…' Draco pulled at his hair.

The dragon looked vicious as it crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon Potter. A monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, heaving yard-long gouge marks in the ground.

'I can't watch,' yelped Draco, peeking through his fingers.

Potter raised his wand, shouting something.

'What did he say?' said Draco. 'Did anyone hear?'

'"Nasty radio",' said Pansy decidedly. 'That's what I heard.'

'Why would he say that?' wondered Daphne.

'I think he said something to do with fire,' said Blaise.

'Don't be daft,' snarled Tracey. 'You can't fight a dragon with fire.'

They all agreed.

Draco patted Blaise's knee, simpering, 'It's okay, Zabini, brains aren't all they're cracked up to be.'

As a reaction, Zabini flicked his chin with the back of his hand, as if that gesture meant anything to Draco. It looked rude, so Draco scowled.

Still nothing happened in the arena.

'It's not working,' Draco snapped. 'Why's he not trying it again?'

For seconds on end, Harry just stood there, while the Hungarian Horntail watched.

'Stupid idiot,' Draco cried, 'try something else!'

'He's waiting!' said someone.

When Potter turned suddenly, Draco jumped up –

The Firebolt hurtled around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopped dead in mid-air beside Potter, waiting for him to mount. Relief washed over Draco as Harry swung his leg over the broom and kicked off from the ground. Draco made a great deal of noise; as did the rest of the crowd, seeing Harry exactly where he belonged, safely in the sky. He looked entirely confident.

He looked down at the clutch of eggs and Draco followed his gaze, spotting the golden egg gleaming against its cement-coloured fellows, residing between the dragon's front legs.

Potter dived. The Horntail's head followed him, and Harry pulled out of the dive just in time; a jet of fire had been released exactly where he would have been had he not swerved away – he made it look like he was simply avoiding a Bludger.

'Great Scott, he can fly!' yelled Bagman as the crowd shrieked and gasped.

'Stating the obvious,' snarled Draco.

'Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?!'

Harry soared higher in a circle; the Horntail was still following his progress, its head revolving on its long neck. If Harry kept this up, it would be nicely dizzy – but he'd better not push it too long, or it would be breathing fire again.

Harry plummeted, just as the Horntail opened its mouth, but this time he was less lucky: he missed the flames, but the tail came whipping up to meet him instead, and as he swerved to the left, one of the long spikes grazed his shoulder, ripping his robes – and Draco shrieked, the sound drowning in the crowd's gasps and screams.

The cut didn't seem to be deep, as Potter zoomed around the back of the Horntail, who wasn't eager to take off, she was too protective of her eggs. Though she writhed and twisted, furling and unfurling her wings and keeping those fearsome yellow eyes on Harry, she was afraid to move too far from them.

Potter began to fly, first this way, then the other, not near enough to make the dragon breathe fire to stave him off, but still posing a sufficient threat to ensure she kept her eyes on him.

Her head swayed this way and that, watching him out of those vertical pupils, her fangs bared.

He flew higher. The Horntail's head rose with him, her neck now stretched to its fullest extent, still swaying, like a snake before its charmer.

Draco didn't breathe. His fingers were pressing deep into the skin of his legs, but he didn't even notice.

Harry rose a few more feet, and the dragon let out a roar of exasperation. He was like a fly to her, a fly she was longing to swat. Her tail thrashed again, but he was too high to reach now. She shot fire into the air, which he dodged. Her jaws opened wide…

'Come on,' Draco murmured anxiously, as Harry swerved tantalizingly above the dragon.

And then she reared, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last, wide enough to keep the Manor dry in a snow storm – and Harry dived, as Draco and the crowed screamed in excitement.

Before the dragon knew what he had done, or where he had disappeared to, Harry was speeding toward the ground, toward the eggs, now unprotected by her clawed front legs.

He had taken his hands off his Firebolt – he had seized the golden egg – and with a huge spurt of speed, he was off, he was soaring out over the stands, the golden egg safely under his uninjured arm.

'He did it!'

The crowd was screaming and applauding as loudly as the Irish supporters at the World Cup.

'Look at that!' Bagman was yelling. 'Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!'

The dragon keepers rushed forward to subdue the Horntail, and Potter flew back over the stands, smoothly landing at the champion's tent.

His throat hoarse from screaming, Draco had never felt so proud – and so relieved. Harry had gotten through the first task. He had survived – and he had been amazing.

. . .

That night, Draco couldn't sit still. His mind kept wandering off to the dragons, only just outside the castle, while he was sitting in a chair, bent over their History of Magic homework. It didn't feel right.

He got up. 'I'm going to take a shower,' he let Crabbe and Goyle know. 'And maybe go to the library after. You go on, I'll be back before bed.'

Draco, in fact, did not go to take a shower, nor did he go to the library. Instead, he sneaked out of the castle, staying close to the forest's edge to keep out of sight of anyone who might be looking out of the window. He hurried over to the dragon's disclosure they'd walked past that afternoon. From afar he could see the glow of fire over the treetops, illuminating clouds of smoke.

He reached the fence without being caught and sighed a breath of relief – until he realised what he was looking at through the fence. He'd thought it had been too dark to see anything, but then he made out outlines of scales. He was only a few feet away from the Hungarian Horntail!

The spikes on its tail were larger than Draco was. The dragon had its back turned towards him and was lying perfectly still. It was probably fast asleep.

'Diffindo,' Draco muttered to make a cut in the fence large enough to let him sneak inside. On tiptoes he inched closer to the dragon and slowly reached out to touch its massive, black scales.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you.'

Draco jumped and almost shrieked. Rounding the side of the Horntail, was a man, only slightly taller than Draco, but instantly intimidating, largely due to his broad shoulders.

When he got closer and casted Lumos, Draco could see the guy was quite young, hardly over twenty. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned; his arms were muscly, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it.

'Like the dragons?' the boy said.

Draco proudly straightened his back. 'I was named after them.'

The boy grinned. 'That's awesome. I can only dream of that.'

A low rumble sounded from the dragon's body. Draco felt his eyes grow to the size of saucers as he froze in fright. The gigantic tail of the Hungarian Horntail dragged gouge marks in the ground big enough for Draco to fall into.

'Come on, let's get you out. It's not safe here for students,' said the boy, holding out his arm to accompany Draco to the exit.

'I want to see them,' Draco demanded.

'We're not giving tours to eleven year olds. We're packing up to leave, and we're on a very tight schedule.'

'I'm fourteen,' Draco snarled. 'I want to touch one.'

'Come on,' the boy insisted, Giving Draco a little push.

Pouting, Draco did as he was told. As he traipsed after the boy, he feasted his eyes on the dragon for as long as he could.

'What's it like to work with them?' he asked.

'It's the best job in the world,' said the guy. 'My mum's always worried and I have more burns than I could count, but it's all worth it when a dragon trusts you enough to let you near… The other day one of the ladies actually came to get me. She was completely upset, kept nudging me with her head to get me to her young, who'd fallen into a crevice in the earth. She kept crying and trying to reach her baby, but her claws and snout didn't fit in the crevice.'

Draco was listening with his mouth hanging open. 'And then?'

'Standard procedure: I called a rescue team. When we finally managed to haul her baby up, I got as many head bumps from the mother as she gave the baby.' The man laughed so loudly, one of the dragons – the Chinese Fireball, Draco recalled – moved in its sleep. As Draco watched, he saw something glowing underneath the dragon's skin. Fascinated, he inched closer to look –

A large hand grabbed Draco's arm and he got yanked aside as a jet of fire shot from the dragon's nostrils. He nearly escaped, feeling the heat graze his skin.

Draco was shaking on his legs, but the boy walked on, sniggering fondly. 'She's a snorer.' He patted the dragon behind the ears, looking half in love with it. 'Isn't she gorgeous?'

Draco panted. 'Can – Can I do that?'

The boy looked up as Draco reached out to touch the Fireball's neck. He checked to see if the dragon was still sleeping and placed himself between its head and Draco. 'Go on then.'

A hot swoop of excitement shot through Draco as his hand landed on the dragon's scales. He expected them to feel warm, like hot water bottles, but they felt as cold as the chilly night air and the earth beneath his feet. The scales were solid and rough like slate.

'Amazing,' he whispered.

The boy smiled. 'Yeah… I remember when I first touched a dragon.'

Draco petted the animal with both hands now. He could feel her breathing underneath his hands, and in an impulse he dropped his entire body against it, closing his eyes.

The boy was laughing at him now, but for once, Draco didn't mind. It wasn't a mean laugh anyway.

As he pushed himself to his feet again, he checked the guy out. 'Can't you be our Magical Creatures teacher?'

The boy snorted and started walking again. 'Come on now, before someone spots you. You're really not supposed to get so close.'

He didn't seem anxious at all though. Draco wondered if people who worked with dragons even had the ability to feel anxious, ever. This one seemed as relaxed as if they were sauntering through a flowery meadow on a sunny day.

Draco kept close to his guide when they passed the Swedish Short-snout with only a few yards between them. When the dragon lazily opened one yellow eye, the guy's hand closed around Draco's wrist, his skin all calluses and blisters, and Draco narrowly repressed the urge to scream and bolt.

Nothing happened though, so the boy let Draco go again. 'You should see the Hebridean Black Dragon,' he said. 'It's my favourite. It can grow up to be thirty feet long.'

'Thirty feet? Where can I see one?'

The guy snorted. 'Try befriending the MacFusty clan. They care for one in the Scottish Highlands, not too far away from here actually. Most unwelcoming lot ever, though, so good luck with that.'

'Oh, I can arrange that,' said Draco smugly. He knew what to ask for Christmas!

'There you go,' said the boy when they reached the entrance of the dragon enclosure. 'And don't come back.' He threateningly lifted a finger at Draco, but his eyes gleamed.

'Well, I can't wait till I'm off age.' Draco shook the guy's hand. 'I'll buy all dragons in the world, you see, and then I'll run this place.'

The guy let out a booming laugh and slapped Draco on the shoulder. 'See you in a few years than, mate. Bye!'

As he sauntered away, Draco heard him softly sing to himself, 'Dragons are better than people…'

. . .

'Malfoy?'

Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis appeared beside Draco, Vincent and Gregory in the library.

'What?' Draco drawled. 'Want me to get you Potter's autograph?' He grinned at Crabbe & Goyle.

The girls snorted. 'You gonna get it by lurking?'

Draco scowled at them. 'Shut up. I'm busy.'

Potter and Granger were feverishly reading again. It probably had to do with the Tournament. Harry kept running his hands through his hair, making it curl and twirl this way and that.

He looked worried, Draco noted. His nose almost touched the pages while he put his hands around his face to block the world out or laid his mighty arms on top of his head as if to force himself to stay put.

'Is Pansy alright?' Tracey interrupted his scrutiny.

Draco looked up. 'Huh? Why?'

'She's not eating or laughing and most of the time we don't know where she is.'

Draco shared a look with Crabbe and Goyle, and like one man they rose to find Pansy.

To someone who knew where to look, she wasn't hard to find. There was a spot near the Quidditch Field that overlooked the grounds surrounding the castle. It reminded her of the porch at the Parkinson Property.

She wasn't there.

The other option was the Boat House. She said the sloshing of the water calmed her, like it did in their dorm, but with the benefit of being left alone. When they rounded the corner to the mouldy, grey walls of the Boat House, they spotted a small figure on the dock.

'There you are,' Draco drawled, which just made her look away.

Draco liked the echoing and the cavernous feel of the Boat House.

He kicked her. 'Spit it out.'

'Never.'

Draco and Gregory sat down on either side of her. Vincent leaned against the wall behind them and kept eyeing their surroundings as if there was some imminent threat. His mother always said he had anxiety issues, which Vincent didn't like to discuss.

'Can we guess?' Draco suggested. 'How many tries are we allowed?'

'None.'

'Well, did Blaise reject you?' Draco started anyway, counting the first try on his fingers.

'Did you eat raw dough?' offered Gregory.

'Or mussels,' added Vincent; Draco held up two, then three fingers.

Pansy shook her head. 'Go away. I'm fine.'

'Blaise is a drag,' said Draco. 'The only thing going for him is his height and his bone structure. I've never heard him say anything exciting.'

'I don't give a rat's arse about Blaise,' said Pansy.

Draco frowned. 'Is the family alright?'

'Yes, don't worry. I said I'm fine.'

'You are not fine,' Gregory stated.

'Someone bullying you?' asked Vincent. 'We'll beat them up.'

'I know. Thanks, champ.'

Draco wrecked his brain. Then he remembered. 'Oh man, is this about the Fae?'

Pansy flinched and looked away. She did not reply.

Draco looked around at Crabbe and Goyle. 'Get her something to eat. Something warm.'

Happy to be able to do something they were experts on, the boys lumbered back to the castle.

As soon as they were out of sight, Draco cut to the chase: 'Are you in love with Fleur Delacour? She's gone in a few weeks, so it's really not a big deal.'

'I'm not.'

'She's part Veela by the way, not part Fae. And everyone is in love with her, nothing to be embarrassed about.'

'I know. I said – '

'She won't die in the Tournament, I'm sure. She was pretty awesome with the dragon – though not as awesome as my Fiery Four-Eyes,' he hastened to add.

Pansy snorted, but in an unhappy way. 'Stop talking, it's not about her.'

Draco frowned. 'Then who – '

'I already said I will never tell. Never.'

'Oh, so dramatic… I'll find out, you know. I am a Malfoy, remember?'

'How can I forget…'

She kept looking away. It frustrated him. He had no time for these shenanigans, he wanted to go back and watch Harry read. So he put on the booming voice of his father: 'Pansy Parkinson, I demand to know what you are sulking about!'

She crossed her arms.

'Spit it out!'

'No!'

'Now!'

'No!'

'How dare you!' His voice echoed around the Boat House. 'Why not?!'

'Because it's stupid.'

'Silly dung-brain girl, you are talking to someone who is in love with The Boy Who Lived. For Merlin's sake, it can't be any more stupid than that.'

He knew he hit bull's eye when she looked aside at him and defiantly raised an eyebrow. 'Wanna bet?'

The setting sun peeked into the Boat House, giving Pansy's hair an orange glow.

'I get a box of Cauldron Cakes,' she said, 'if it's more stupid than being in love with Harry J. Potter.'

Easy deal, Draco reckoned. They shook on it.

Pansy cleared her throat. 'I'm in love with Luna Lovegood.'

Draco howled with laughter. Pansy sighed.

'You're kidding!' Draco couldn't stop cackling, it made his belly ache. 'It's not possible! Loony? You can't be serious!'

Pansy solemnly nodded, sighed and looked away.

Draco wiped away tears of mirth. 'Oh, you were always weird,' he said. 'I'll get you a dozen boxes of Cauldron Cakes for this. Oh, I haven't laughed so much in weeks… La vache… Loony Lovegood. Wait till I tell – '

Pansy's wand jabbed into Draco's throat. 'Tell and you're dead,' she hissed with that look she reserved for people who took the last muffin during breakfast, only turned up to eleven.

Draco put his hands in the air. 'Did you ask her to the ball?' he jeered. He knew he shouldn't gloat, but it was nice to finally not be the one with the worst problems.

Solemnly, she lowered her wand. 'I could never. Mother will know… Everyone will know.'

'Then who are you going with?'

'I'm not going. I hate people.'

Draco nodded. 'To be fair,' he said softly. 'I'm not looking forward to it either. I can still cancel, then we could – '

'Shut up, you weak little wanker. I'm going home on the day of the Yule Ball; I bullied Primrose into coming over from France to fetch me. And you, Mister Malfoy, are finally going to snog the love of your life. Don't ruin this for us.'

'Primrose is coming over?'

'Yes, but only to pick me up. She promised to let me stay with her for Christmas without telling mum.'

Draco sulked. Why wasn't he invited to stay in France with Pansy's cool, famous sister for Christmas?

'You do know she's crazy, right? Loony Lovegood? Like genuinely wacko?'

'Not more than you.'

He glared at her.

'She's bullied by everyone, every single day, and she doesn't change one bit. That's character, Draconius. We can only dream of such resilience.'

He had to admit she had a point.

'There's so much wrong with me,' said Pansy gloomily.

'Lies,' Draco snarled. 'Name one.'

'I'm too loud. I go from screaming in excitement to screaming in anger, within minutes. Why am I like that? What's wrong with me? Lavender Brown says I laugh too loud, mother says I walk too loud, McGonagall says I talk too loud.'

'Those are all my favourite things about you! Otherwise I'd be the only one like that!'

She looked up with a faint smile and put her head on his shoulder.

'What else?' said Draco resolutely.

'I'm confused all the time. I don't know who I like. I thought it was you, but then it was Luna, and then I convinced myself it was Blaise, but it's not. Sometimes I think I'm in love with everyone, and sometimes I think no one is even remotely good enough.'

He smirked. 'Everyone?'

Pansy looked him dead in the eye. 'Everyone.'

'Like who?'

'Like… Anyone blonde. Anyone on the Quidditch team – '

'Including the Weasleys?'

'Merlin, no! Even I have limits. Although…'

Draco huffed and braced himself.

'Sometimes I think I… I might like… Ginny Weasley. Hell, sometimes I think I like Granger, for Merlin's sake.'

'La vache! You'll be disowned!'

'Tell me about it… I'm a terrible mess. I deserve to die.'

Draco's eyebrows shot up and he burst out laughing. 'I'll say!'

She slapped his arm. 'Shut up, Draco!'

'You're so dramatic.'

'What if I like Tracey or Daphne?' exclaimed Pansy desperately.

'Then what?' Draco scoffed. 'As long as you don't force your tongue down their throats or secretly sniff their nickers, who cares?'

She didn't even crack a smile. 'I'm jealous of you and Potter. I wish I could feel like that about someone. I wish someone felt that way about me.'

'I'd choose you over Potter in a heartbeat.'

Only as he said it, did Draco realise it was true. He surprised himself. Before he could even process this, something terrifying happened: Pansy started crying.

'Oh no,' squealed Draco. 'I didn't mean it! Oh, help, what did I do? I take it back!'

Pansy sniffled. 'Why are you so nice to me?'

'Oh.' Draco scratched his head. 'Well, then you're a real bitch, Pansy. Ugly, too, with a terrible sense of style. Crazy and loud and…' He had to rack his brain for more. 'Clingy. Terribly clingy.'

Laughing, she took his hand. 'Stop.' She inhaled like she snorted something up and ranted on. 'I hate growing up. When we were little I could tell everyone I was marrying you, and a day later I'd marry Primrose and no one would think anything of it. Now I'm not even allowed to touch you without everyone applying labels… haphazardly.'

Draco shook his head. 'Enough, young lady,' He got to his feet and with a little bow, he held out his hand. 'May I have this dance?'

Pansy grumbled, 'You may…'

'I need to practice,' Draco bragged as he twirled his friend around, 'for my dance with The Boy Who Lived, you see.'

Pansy smirked. 'Then I hope for your sake that Potter knows the girls' steps.'

Draco froze. 'Fait chier!'

The thought of girls- and boys-steps hadn't even crossed his mind. Running his hands through his hair, he cursed some more.

'Relax, dumbass,' snarled Pansy. 'I can teach you.' With a theatrical swish she moved her hands, 'Changez!'

That's what their old dancing teacher kept singing out, whenever they needed to change partners or when she suddenly switched songs or rhythms to keep them all on their toes.

Draco snorted. 'Perfect… Then I can teach you the men's steps – so you can ask Granger.'

Pansy abruptly let go off him, leaning one hand against the Boat House's arched wall to violently fake throw up, while Draco laughed scathingly.

He put his hands up as if holding someone invisible, drawling, 'Come on, brat, time's Galleons.'

And so they danced.

'When you're with Primrose,' said Draco, 'could you perhaps… ask her about secret places in Hogwarts? Where one could, for instance… have some privacy?'

Pansy laughed with her head in her neck. 'For you, I will. But only if I can tell her about your future husband.'

'I didn't make the Parkinson newsletter yet?'

Her eyes started to sparkle. 'Do you remember that room she talked about with all the red curtains and the lounge chairs?'

Draco gasped, letting Pansy go in excitement. 'I forgot about that! Why haven't we found it yet? That's the one I need! You have to ask her about it! I need it now.'

Pansy shrugged. 'Fine, I'll Floo her tonight.'

When it was starting to get dark outside the Boat House, Draco finally felt confident that he knew the steps. Pansy curtsied and he took another bow, then offered her his arm to escort the lady back to the castle.

Sauntering across the lawn, she grumbled, 'Bet you two Galleons Crabbe and Goyle are eating my food.'

'You're on.'

When they arrived at the castle, Draco was rewarded with Potter loafing around in the Great Hall with his dumb friends.

'Hermione,' they overheard Weasley ask. 'Who are you going to the ball with?'

Draco smirked.

'I'm not telling you,' Granger said, 'you'll just make fun of me.'

'You're joking, Weasley!' Draco shouted, swaggering up to them. 'You're not telling me someone's asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?'

Potter and Weasley both whipped around, but the Mudblood said loudly, waving to somebody over Draco's shoulder, 'Hello, Professor Moody!'

Startled, Draco jumped backward, looking wildly around for Moody, but he was nowhere to be seen.

'Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Draco?' said the filthy Mudblood scathingly.

Before Draco could think of a hex, he felt warm fingers on his hand.

Harry Potter touched his hand. He was grinning. 'You deserved that one, mate.'

Draco was lost for words. He felt like being hugged and punched in the face at the same time. Only when the three of them went up the marble staircase, laughing heartily, Draco found his voice again.

'I'm not your mate, Potter!'

Harry leaned over the balustrade, squinting at Draco in concentration, and aimed his wand.

Before Draco could think to defend himself, Harry fired. A messy kiss landed on Draco's upper lip. Tingling all over, a warmth spread from Draco's face to the entire rest of his body.

So this was the kind of guy he was dealing with here, Draco furiously realised: Draco's own kissing charm, abused against him! He'd planted a little kiss on Harry's neck when no one was looking, and in revenge Harry practically snogged Draco in front of everyone! That promised something for the Yule Ball…

. . .

Draco was sitting on the edge of his bed in just his briefs, enchanting his skin to glow as preparation for the Yule Ball that evening. The tip of his tongue stuck out in concentration, when Pansy burst into the room.

'Tonight's the night you're gonna make it happen,' she sang in his ear.

Draco shoved her aside. 'Ta guele.'

She'd made a full recovery of her temporary lovesickness. Easy enough, Draco thought, when one could avoid the Ball in its entirety. Her glorious sister would come to her rescue at four already.

She didn't have to worry about her dress looking weird or her hair being flat or what people would think when their one and only wonderboy entered the room with their worst enemy, or how in the name of Merlin one could be alone with one's date with the entire student body present.

Draco felt nauseous – but he felt excited too. No matter what, Harry Potter had said yes to him. Life was never going to top this. Draco just had to rise to the challenge, as Father would say.

Well… Father would say something else entirely if he knew who Draco would be going to the Yule Ball with. Thankfully, it didn't interest him enough to ask.

Other people had asked, but Draco generally wore people out, so they treasured the time Draco wasn't talking to them, and they specifically never pressed the matter after he started a rant about the renown of the Yule Ball in contrast with the Malfoy standard. Half the time, Draco himself didn't even know what he was talking about. Scaring people off came naturally to him.

'Draconius,' Pansy interrupted his thoughts, plopping down next to him. 'Rothilda says Potter is going with those ugly Patil-sisters.'

'Both of them?' Draco smirked. 'Such a floozy.'

'No, just one, and the other is going with Weasley.'

'You shouldn't listen to gossip, Pansington. I'll have you know that the Patils personally informed me they are going with the Weasel and some poor Hufflepuff kid – I offered them my condolences.'

Pansy raised her eyebrows. 'Look at you! All mature.'

Draco preened. 'Cho Chang is going with Diggory. The Weasley-girl is going with Longbottom – '

Pansy burst out laughing. 'How embarrassing!'

'– and Rothilda was never a threat to start with,' he concluded. 'Harry Potter is going with me.'

He furrowed his brow in concentration to try the incantation once more. 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains – however improbable – must be the truth. The art of deduction,' he muttered.

Pansy pushed his hand so his charm was ruined and he screamed in frustration. She laughed and took her wand to do it for him.

'You're a loony,' she said fondly. 'Why do you always want to look like vampires? Does Potter even like vampires?'

She'd always been unsupportive of Draco's aesthetic. For instance, every summer she would try to convince him to get out of the shade, to get some vitamin D or – oh horror – "grab a tan". It was infuriating how adamant she was on cramping his style.

Her glimmering charm got absolutely marvellous over the years, though, he couldn't deny that. Humming happily, Draco stretched his legs on the bed while she went over them with her wand. He wiggled his toes. 'You sure you're not staying? You'll miss out on me looking impeccable in the best dress robes ever made.'

Pansy shrugged. 'I'll see them at another ball.'

She ducked away when Draco tried to kick her in the face. 'As if! Who do you think you're dealing with here, little orphan Annie?! I'm not wearing the same dress robes twice!'

Pansy laughed her shrieking laugh.

When Draco wasn't dreaming about Harry J. Potter, he was thinking of his beautiful robes. They were gorgeous and soft and fitted him like a glove. Mother and he had been going to all the finest dressmakers in the country to find the perfect robes, and this was it. They made Draco look like a man; a real man, like Harry…

That was what Draco focussed on, on that day of the Yule Ball: not the whispers and the looks, but his dress robes, and the music that would be playing – they said Dumbledore had booked the Weird Sisters! Draco knew their songs by heart and now he would see them in real life! Then again, people also claimed that Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta, and Draco didn't expect that to be true. Still, it promised to be quite the party tonight.

. . .

Weak in the knees, Draco led his friends up to the Great Hall that night.

He couldn't stop himself from picturing Harry in dress robes; would they be as gorgeous as Draco's? Or would they look like all Harry's clothes: faded, too big and a little outdated? It didn't really matter, he supposed, as long as Harry was underneath them; with his arms and shoulders and eyes and smiles and with that touch of mystery and strength… Draco sighed.

They reached the top of the stairs, emerging from the safety of the Dungeon to the commotion of the Entrance Hall. The doors to the Great Hall were still closed, and almost the entire school was gathered at the Entrance Hall; all milling around waiting for eight o'clock, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. Those who were meeting partners from different Houses were edging through the crowd trying to find one another.

Draco nervously craned his neck. He didn't see Harry yet, but he did see a ginger head – alone, wearing those frilly, ugly dress robes.

'Weasley! Hey! Weasley!'

'What?' growled Weasley.

'Cute dress!'

The Slytherins around them laughed, but Crabbe and Goyle almost peed themselves.

'Did your friends drop you?' Draco jeered. 'No one wants to be seen with their dead grandmother, I reckon?'

Weasley turned marvellously red. 'No! I mean – Harry will be here. In a minute.'

'Aw, did he get permission from your father to be your date?'

'Shut up, Malfoy!'

Draco laughed scathingly. 'I bet Potter's still trying to beg someone to come with you. Shame you couldn't pay anyone, right, Weasley?'

'I told you – '

The doors to the Great Hall were thrown open, cutting Weasley off mid-sentence. Padma Patil grabbed his hand to yank him inside the Great Hall. Draco wondered who he felt sorrier for: Weasley or Patil.

Draco watched everyone get inside, pushing Vincent and Gregory to go too. 'I'll meet you there.'

Slowly, the Entrance Hall emptied, leaving Draco alone.

After the last girl rushed down the Marble Staircase – barefoot and hopping to put on some very high heels, but strutting in like she was late on purpose – the Entrance Hall was completely empty.

Still, there was no sign of Potter.

Did Draco get stood up? Was this all one elaborated joke? Did Harry somehow sneak inside without him? With Cho Chang, or – heaven forbid – the Weasley girl?

Draco shivered. This couldn't be happening. All alone, in his beautiful robes, with no one to admire them. Inside the Great Hall, he could hear the Weird Sisters being announced. For a moment, Draco thought about going in on his own, but he realised he couldn't care less about any band anymore. He just wanted to know why Harry didn't show up.

There was nothing for it, but to go on a search for his date. Draco had a vague idea of where the Gryffindor tower was located. It must be, he theorized, in one of the towers. The castle only had about five or six of those, so how difficult would it be to locate the right one? Every tower had four floors, so that left him with about… twenty-four options.

He faltered a little at this realisation, but straightened his back. All the more reason to get cracking, he firmly told himself.

First, he went to the Northern Tower, starting at the top, because he was quite sure he saw the Gryffindors take the staircase a lot. Not knowing what he was looking for exactly, he couldn't really find something that resembled an entrance, and there wasn't anyone around either who could give him any clues. He thought about the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room and how it was invisible until you said the password. He slowly breathed in and out, forcing himself not to give up. Potter was probably just waiting for Draco to pick him up outside their Common Room. This was no doubt merely the result of some silly miscommunication. If Harry went to the Entrance Hall while Draco was going to the Gryffindor tower they would miss each other, so it made sense for Harry to stay put and wait for Draco – even though the ball had started half an hour ago already.

So he went on to search at the Eastern Tower. Along the way, he got slightly lost, because he got distracted: he could swear he saw the Grey Lady, but she never showed herself. There was a reason he usually followed his classmates around through the castle: his mind kept wandering with all those mysteries going on in this castle, and those bloody moving staircases didn't help…

When he rounded the corner to the stairs, Draco jumped and froze when a great bawl echoed through the stairwell. It sounded as if someone was in a particularly tight spot – and Draco recognized that voice without a second thought.

He felt like running over to Harry at once, but forced himself to quietly get closer first. Peeking around the tapestry of a secret corridor, he saw Potter, sitting halfway along one of the moving staircases. His arms were on top of his head and he looked as if he was about to cry. It made Draco's heart fall.

He waited impatiently until the staircase reached him, then sneaked up a few steps and casually arranged himself against the banister.

'Scared, Potter?'

Harry jumped.

Draco allowed himself a moment to take in Harry's dress robes. They were a shade of dark green that made his eyes glimmer like emeralds. They looked modest, but fitted him well and they were definitely new.

With his hands in his pockets, Draco swaggered up the moving stairs. 'You butter me up with talk about jumpers and leggings and then you wear that?'

Harry looked down at his dress robes. 'You don't like them?'

Draco sat down next to Harry. 'I didn't say that.'

Oh, how Draco wished he could show Harry around, boast to everyone that The Boy Who Lived was his. Between Harry's classy robes and Draco's beautiful ones, everyone would be gushing over the gorgeous couple they made,

'I'm so sorry I'm late,' said Harry. He ran his hands through his hair. 'We should– we shouldn't miss the opening dance.'

'Oh, I'm quite sure we have, Potter,' said Draco. 'That was an hour ago.'

With a heartfelt groan, Harry looked up. 'Oh no. Draco, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.'

'Oh, stop it, that vulgar dance is an affront to the entire concept of a ball, and to be honest, I wasn't looking forward to the… the looks either. I prefer to have you to myself anyway.'

It seemed to have been the right thing to say: Harry relaxed a little. 'You do?' he mumbled. 'I-I know what you mean.'

Draco's insides made a somersault. 'Splendid,' he drawled. 'Come along then.'

Harry took a deep breath – and he grabbed the hand Draco held out for him. It felt like the castle spun around them, as Draco could almost feel the pieces of his life falling into place: his hand belonged in Harry's.

Forcing his eyes forwards, he started climbing the stairs, Harry following at his heel. After a while, Harry's loose hand touched Draco's wrist. His fingertips started stroking Draco's underarm, sending shivers through his spine. He felt a great urge to push Harry into the wall and –

No, Draco reprimanded himself, focus.

Not until they reached a doorless corridor did Draco let go of Harry's hand – reluctantly. 'Don't move.'

Like Primrose had explained, he paced up and down the corridor three times, concentrating on what he needed most: a place where Harry and he could be alone and at the Yule Ball.

This'd better work, he thought, or he'd look like a complete arse in front of Harry J. Potter. Maybe he shouldn't have trusted the Parkinsons so much on this most important night of his entire life. His entire future happiness as well as his marriage with the love of his life stood or fell on this room appearing.

After pacing back and forth three times, he nervously opened his eyes, almost too scared to look.

He looked. There was a door. Draco wanted to whoop; it had worked!

Instead, he kept his cool and opened the door, gesturing for Harry to go in. 'Saints first.'

Harry chuckled. Then he stepped through the door, and Draco noticed his jaw drop. Draco followed and forced himself not to copy Harry's expression. He'd planned this, of course; there were no surprises to world-wise Draco Malfoy.

It looked amazing though. They walked into the Great Hall, but it was deserted. The walls had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, all empty. Along the sides were tables filled with food and drinks, and there was music coming from an unknown source, but just as loud as Draco supposed it was downstairs in the real Great Hall.

'How – how–…'

'Like it?' Draco asked, flinging his gorgeous cloak aside and putting his hands in his pockets.

Harry moaned. He actually moaned – about something Draco had done. 'Blimey Dra, how do you do these things? How are you so good at… everything?'

Draco let out a short, derisive laugh. 'It's my upbringing, I'm sure.' He swaggered away. 'Can I offer you a drink, Potter?'

Harry took a bow. 'You may,' he answered in an odd, posh voice.

It made Draco laugh; it sounded nervous. Quickly, he handed Harry a drink.

'This is perfect,' said Harry, slouching against the table to gaze at the decorations. Suddenly, the worried frown reappeared. 'Do you think I'll get into trouble for not turning up?'

Draco sneered, 'Harry Potter, scared of getting into trouble?'

'Wonderful Saint Potter,' Harry said with a grin. 'We did practice ages on it. On that dance… Seems like such a waste now.'

'My god, Harry, if you want to do the dance just say it.'

Harry frowned. 'How though? We only learned the men's steps.' He looked up. 'We couldn't even have done the dance!'

Draco – triumphantly laughing on the inside – lifted an eyebrow. 'Think again.'

Harry blinked stupidly.

'Well?' Draco demanded.

It made Harry jump. 'Sorry.' He held out his hand. 'Draco, mate–…'

'NO!' Draco crossed his arms and Harry let out a great whoop of laughter that made Draco's heart leap. Then he grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him to the brightly lit dancefloor. There, he looked at their hands and their feet, and he seemed to freeze on the spot, leaving it up to Draco – again – to take charge.

So Draco seized one of the boy's hands, placed it around his waist and held the other in his own, trying very hard not to think about how close he was to Harry J. Potter – or about the fact that he was dancing with a guy, which was decidedly malapropos in pure-blood circles. It was very difficult not to lose his mind, with Harry's hand feeling warm on his hip; Draco felt it all the way through his robes.

They started out slowly revolving at the spot – which was marvellous – but as the dance progressed, Harry started staring at their feet more and more. It seemed to demand all of his attention to simply stay upright and remember the steps. Clearly, the boy was not having any fun and Draco started longing for the end of the song.

At long last, the music died away. They broke apart at once, finally allowing Draco to breathe again. Harry looked up from his feet and smack into Draco's eyes, looking exhausted and unsure. It was awful.

'Merlin, Potter, I thought it would never end.' Draco wiped off his forehead and dusted his hands.

'Tell me about it,' Harry said, panting. 'Everything for the fans.'

In an impulse, Draco bowed to the invisible public. To his great joy, Harry lifted an invisible hat in response to invisible applause. Draco wanted to kiss his dorky face.

To distract himself from his animal urges, Draco started carefully rolling up his sleeves, while Harry took off his cloak, leaving him standing in a moss green blouse with the sleeve buttons loose, showing a peek at his arms.

'How do you know the girls' steps to that dance?' he asked.

There was no way Draco was going to admit he'd practiced for hours on it just to do one dance with Potter. 'Again, it's my upbringing,' he lied. 'Got taught how to dance before I got taught how to walk.'

'Aha…' mumbled Harry, kicking his robes away from the dance floor. 'Payed off.'

'Now,' Draco drawled, 'can we move on from this… suffocating formality… and go berserk?'

He was met with glazy eyes from Potter, who probably never went berserk for even a second of his life. Not everyone had the pleasure to have been invited to Parkinson parties, Draco supposed.

'Woo!' Draco demonstrated, waving his hands and dancing around his axis. As if the Weird Sisters downstairs heard him, the music started picking up speed and Draco began to jump.

Harry's grin turned into laughter. Draco stopped jumping to grab his collar, shouting, 'Stop laughing, Potter!' even though he was grinning too. 'I'm trying to break loose here!'

'You mean like… this?' said Harry, stepping back, and he started to headbang like he was in a metal band; his hair magically grew a few inches to help.

Within seconds, they had to hold onto each other, they were laughing so hard.

'Or – or like this!' Draco put on a mock hazy smile and imitated the way Mr. Lovegood and Loony always danced.

Harry doubled over from laughing, then he grabbed Draco's arm to get his attention and started doing the weirdest dance with his hands and arms, pointing to the sky and to the sides, with his other hand on his hip. He looked so dumb, Draco wanted to kiss him.

Excitedly, Draco tapped Harry's chest. 'You know how Pansy's brother dances? Look, it's all in the face.' He lowered his eyebrows and pursed his lips, as he lifted his fists and simply swayed a little on the beat. He pointed at his face and Potter grinned, then started trying to copy him. They had a hard time keeping their faces like Penstemon's; they kept cracking up.

When the song was over, Draco asked Harry what he thought of the band. He curled his finger around a beltloop of Harry's pants. 'Do you know them?'

'No, but I like them.'

Though the stage was empty, both their heads shot up when a new energetic song started with a bang. Before Draco could think, his body responded to the beat.

He'd never been allowed or able to dance freely, truly freely; to let music touch him physically. There was always someone expecting him to remain dignified, to be and do whatever he was meant to. His parents would never allow him to listen to music this loudly, and even at the Parkinson Property he felt judged; either by Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson, or by the ever so cool older Parkinsons, Primrose and Penstemon. Every once in a while, Pansy would try to get Draco to loosen up to music in her bedroom, but her moves were so much better than his, that he felt embarrassed to even try.

With Harry, he had absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. Potter had no dance skills whatsoever, yet enough self-confidence for the both of them. Draco absorbed the music and allowed his body to do what it felt like, and when he glanced at Harry, he too seemed to be letting it all go. It wasn't exactly dancing what he was doing – shaking his head and waving his arms and jumping around – but he seemed to be having as much fun as Draco. Within minutes, they were laughing and screaming and Harry looked happier than Draco'd seen him in a long time.

Gradually, their dance slowed down as their energy levels dropped. Draco was panting, but still smiling like an idiot; he didn't even hold it in anymore. This was the best night of his life; dancing alone with wonderful Harry Potter.

They gravitated towards each other, inching closer with each song, until Harry bumped into Draco. Intertwining their fingers, Harry dropped his forehead against Draco's and closed his eyes. At that, Draco lost all control and put his arms around Harry's neck, pressing his eyes closed too.

Mother would faint seeing him like this; Father would either scream or never look at him again. But they were not here, Draco reminded himself, and Harry was. His warm fingers were playing around Draco's waist.

Swaying slightly at the music, they sluggishly revolved at the spot, and for the first time in forever, Draco felt at ease. For a moment, the eternal storm inside him settled.

He allowed his fingers to touch Harry's neck, running along his skin under the tufts of his marvellous magical hair. It wasn't crackling now, but there was still a faint rustle coming from it. Carefully, Draco touched it, half expecting to get a shock, but nothing like that happened; Harry's hair felt like any other, ordinary hair.

Stroking Harry's neck with his thumb, he felt butterflies all through his body; they could fly out of his ears any moment. To make matters worse, Harry moved his hand down from Draco's waist to pull up his shirt, and he ran his thumb over Draco's bare skin. Draco bit his lip to hold in a gasp, but clasped his hand into Harry's hair as if it would keep his knees from giving in.

Harry's hand slid under Draco's shirt entirely now, forming figures on his skin with his fingers. Draco closed his eyes and nuzzled into Harry's shoulder.

Bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss.

The only reason Draco knew time had passed, was because his throat started to bug him. He tried to ignore it, but there was no denying after a while: he really needed a drink.

Reluctantly, he lowered his hand from Harry's neck, but took his hand instead. Shyly avoiding Harry's eyes, he cleared his throat. 'Potter, I'm parched.'

Thinking he would be a complete buffoon to let go of Harry Potter's hand as long as Harry Potter held on to his, Draco went about to pour in drinks with only one hand.

'I can do this,' Draco muttered when the boy tried to help.

'I don't doubt it at this point.' Harry grinned. 'It's just… needlessly difficult.'

'You're needlessly difficult.'

He pushed a drink in Harry's hand and sat down on the table. 'It's a fairly quiet ball, isn't it,' he said, looking around the empty hall. 'They should have promoted it more. Nothing to make a party flop as much as bad PR, what do you think?'

'I think you're rambling.'

'How dare you, Potter, I never ramble. I remark.' He lifted his chin. 'I observe. I–…'

Laughing, Harry grabbed Draco's face and pressed his mouth against Draco's skin. 'Shut up, Dra.'

Draco felt the butterflies surge under his skin. His voice faltered, ' – make conversation…'

Harry was looking intensely at him – or more specifically, at Draco's mouth.

Draco panicked. Again, it dawned on him that Harry Potter was so awfully much a boy. He shouldn't have wanted this so badly. Look what it led to! He shouldn't be doing this, not with a boy and certainly not with – with… Harry J. Potter –

His breathing quickened, his heart raced. He knew he should stop this at once, lean back and duck away from the Boy Who Lived before it could get even worse –

Harry leaned in – Draco braced himself –

Harry's lips touched Draco's; soft and warm and –

'Mmglad they did so bad,' Draco heard himself blurt out.

Before his panic could take over entirely, Harry's nose touched Draco's… and he laughed. The sound made Draco's skin tingle, from the tip of his nose to the nails on his fingers.

'You know,' he babbled, 'because otherwise – '

Without warning, Harry kissed him once more –

' – Saint Potter'd be all over the news again!'

Draco felt like hitting himself, but to his bewilderment, Harry laughed again. He laughed in the way that only Harry Potter laughed – and Draco's panic melted away, together with his dozen objections and reservations. He took Harry's face and planted a dozen tiny kisses on every part of his mouth. It felt weird and wonderful and absolutely right.

He was kissing a boy, a guy, a man… a celebrity, his Potions partner – Ah, the love of his life!

And it felt exactly how it should.

Harry shifted a little, then suddenly lost his balance and jerked away, slamming his head into Draco's nose.

'OUCH!' howled Draco, clutching his nose. 'You OAF!' Then he roared with laughter, which only got worse when Harry groaned, face flushed, glasses askew and looking mortified.

'How did you ever manage to defeat the Dark Lord,' Draco jeered. 'Twice?! It's a mystery to me!'

For a second, Harry looked miserable. Then he dragged Draco's legs around his waist, took Draco's hand away from his face and gently kissed his nose, spiralling from the tip of it to the edges.

It was safe to say that Draco's entire being shut down. For solid seconds, his mind went completely blank, his muscles gave up and every cell in his body seemed to be fruitlessly gasping for breath.

'Oh,' he whispered. Closing his eyes, he leant into Harry, who went on to kiss the corner of his mouth. Draco couldn't believe what was happening. His useless Potions partner; the boy who fell off his broom every match without exception –

'Harry,' Draco breathed, 'you've got moves.'

At once, Harry broke out of it and cracked up. 'Dra, I'm begging you! Shut up!'

Harry's eyes locked onto Draco's before the latter had a chance to pull himself together. Quickly, Draco dropped his gaze.

Harry nuzzled his nose and Draco made to kiss him again, but then –

The lights went off. All at once.

Instinctively, Draco pulled Harry closer. 'What's happening?'

Only then did he notice the music had stopped, perhaps long ago. Downstairs, the ball must have been over.

They were sitting in the dark, blinking, waiting for their eyes to get used to the lack of light, when Harry started wailing, leaning his forehead against Draco's. 'Oooh, I wasted so much time.'

Draco hated to see his homeboy like that, so – thinking fast – he hissed, 'Let's go to the astronomy tower.' He picked up Harry's face. 'To the stars!'

When Harry's eyes lit up, Draco felt like crowing in triumph.

Only illuminated by the light of the moon and the stars in the enchanted ceiling, Potter reached into his pocket and took out a little package. It looked like thin fabric, folded into a compact bundle. As Harry shook it, the bundle regained its shape – and it turned out to be a light cloak. Harry wrapped it around himself… and vanished.

Draco yelped. Then he realised – it must have been an Invisibility Cloak! He knew those were incredibly rare and expensive! The quality of the cloak must have been superb, because Harry was completely invisible! Not just see-through like with Vincent's stupid Cloak, which he had been so proud of despite being a cheap rip-off. With this one, no one could see the wearer at all, not even their outlines!

Before he could recover from his astonishment, Harry threw the Cloak around Draco too, pushing the two of them together. From the inside, the cloak looked like see-through velvet, if that existed. It was gorgeous. Baffled, Draco softly touched the fabric to examine it.

Reclaiming his attention at once, Harry's fingers intertwined with Draco's, to lead him through the castle. It was a great feeling, Draco found out, to be led by Harry Potter. He wished it would last forever. Usually, it was Draco who did the leading. Even if he just wanted to lay back, it somehow still came down to him to ask the real questions or to tell everyone what they should be doing – he simply knew best.

Not when he was with Harry J. Potter, it turned out. Potter knew the way; Potter knew what to do; Potter would keep Draco healthy and warm. He relished in the feeling.

They passed groups of students and several pairs of students. Draco kept wanting to prank them or say something clever to make Harry laugh, but Harry was not to be distracted. It suddenly became clear to Draco how The Boy Who Lived had managed to discover all those Hogwarts secrets, like the Salazar's Chamber or the Philosopher's stone: Harry Potter was dedicated.

Snorting at another attempt to make Potter snap out of his focus, Harry did a Silencio around the Cloak.

'Come on, Dra,' he said. 'Keep your eye on the prize.' He kept pulling Draco like he was an untrained dog on a leash.

'Are you the prize, Potter?' Draco snarled.

Harry turned round to shoot him a look, which made Draco smirk – and look away. Because by Merlin, was Potter the prize. As far as prizes went, Harry J. Potter was the Nobel Prize For Magic. Not for the first time – nor the last – Draco wondered how he'd gotten himself in this position: holding hands with The Boy Who Lived, en route to snogging somewhere horribly romantic. It was not a likely scenario – not for a Malfoy in general and not for Draco Malfoy in particular.

There was no way this could last, Draco realised with a heart-sinking shock. He'd better enjoy the heck out of it while he still could.

Harry interrupted his worries most adequately. 'What are you thinking, Draconius?'

Draconius – he'd called him by his family's nickname. If only he knew how much that made Draco feel at home with him.

Potter was still looking like he expected an answer, though, and Draco was quite thrown off his game. 'You're such a big deal, Potter,' he blurted out.

Harry burst out laughing.

As Draco tried to shake off all the unusual, melodramatic feelings – he felt like an entirely different person tonight and he didn't care for it – a faint memory popped into his head. His mother once talked about an energy core within her, as if it was the core of her being, her soul. When she used dark magic – the most powerful kind – she reached into that core and felt who she really was; without the outer casing, the opinions, the must-be's and the want-to-be's – that core was who she actually was. She had told him all this offhandedly during a fitting session he'd been forced to accompany her to, but it had stuck with him ever since. He had practiced the trick in hopes of becoming a more powerful wizard, and whenever he used it, it did seem to strengthen his magic.

Having all these sappy, alien feelings made him perform the trick now. He watched himself as if from a distance: Draco Malfoy, heir to Malfoy Manor, youngest in a long line of an ancient, pure-blood, noble family – going together with Harry J. Potter; Boy Who Lived, Parselmouth and Saviour of the Wizarding World.

'It's really only natural you picked me,' he concluded.

At that, Harry hooked his fingers around the top of Draco's trousers to pull him even closer and he kissed him on the cheek a few times. It took everything Draco had not to fall back into the Pit of Giddiness and Swooning.

The Core, the Core –

'I don't know why we'd even hide it, Scarhead,' Draco blabbered helplessly, 'we're easily the only ones in this school in our league.'

'Oh yeah, totally,' said Harry dryly. 'We're so much better than everyone here; us two. By far.'

Draco wondered how in the world his legs were still carrying him. 'Miles above them, in every possible way…'

'We could replace the teachers in a heartbeat if we wanted, right?'

Draco grinned. 'Without a shred of doubt!'

'You're a brat, Draconius.'

That was the bloody limit.

Sticking out his leg, Draco violently tripped Potter, just so he could use the boy's momentum to pin him up against a wall. Kissing proved a challenge, though, when the two of them couldn't stop laughing, and one of them kept complaining about pain.

Somehow they reached the astronomy tower, eventually. Draco used his parent's picnic spell to make the tiles feel soft and warm, and they laid down – the invisibility cloak still safely covering them both – to watch the stars.

Or well, Draco was watching the stars, jabbering continuously. When he looked aside, Harry was watching him with that familiar – yet ever so baffling – look of amazement on his gorgeous face.

Draco felt like making fun of him. They should have called him The Boy Who Knew Absolutely Nothing And Was Impressed All The Damn Time By Even The Slightest Sign Of Knowledge (or: TBWKANAWIBETSTATDT for short).

Or better yet: The Boy Who Was Adorable.

Fixing his gaze safely on the universe, Draco tried to show Harry the Draco-constellation, but Harry was useless and couldn't find it.

'You're so blind. No wonder you're with me, you just don't know any better.'

Harry snorted. 'I've seen Cedric.'

'Diggory's a dweeb,' sneered Draco. 'I'd be offended – '

'You are offended.' Grinning, Harry leaned on an elbow and covered Draco's lips with soft, fluttery kisses. He took his time with them, as if he needed to memorize his way around for later. His fingers slowly traced Draco's cheek. His thumb touched Draco's chin, gingerly nudging him to open his mouth – Draco obeyed – and, smiling as if he did something cheeky, Harry licked the tip of Draco's tongue.

Shivers ran across Draco's spine and he almost giggled. Thankfully, he kept his cool, because that really would have been embarrassing.

When Harry dared to do it again, and Draco's muscles turned into liquid, he knew this demanded revenge. Cupping Harry's cheek, he returned the favour as he pushed Harry on his back and pressed his wrists against the tiles. When Potter tried to pull loose, Draco only pressed harder, whispering, 'You're mine.'

Harry stopped struggling.

Smirking, Draco bit into Harry's neck like a vampire and kissed him all over, and Harry stretched his fingers to intertwine them with Draco's.

. . .

Draco woke up from sunlight hitting his eyelids. That wasn't unusual, given that his alarm clock was made of sunshine. What was unusual was the fact that someone was wrapped around him, or that when he opened his eyes, he wasn't staring at the top of his four-poster bed, but at a bright, blue sky.

He bolted upright, looking around – to find Harry J. Potter lying peacefully beside him.

With a jolt the memories of last night came back to him and a feeling of jittery warmth spread through Draco's body. It had been wonderful – good lord, had it been wonderful – but… they were definitely not supposed to still be there.

Draco tried to get out from underneath the Invisibility Cloak, but it was intricately wrapped around the two of them.

It pissed him off more every second. 'Morceau de merde!'

Lovely, wonderful Potter blinkingly opened his sleepy emeralds.

'Harry, it's light!' Draco hissed.

Potter got up on an elbow, drowsily helping Draco get free from the cloak. He clearly didn't grasp the gravity of the situation.

'Putain de merde, it's light, Potter!' Draco gestured furiously at the sky. 'You dung-brain, we haven't returned to our dorms!'

'Oh…' Slowly the penny seemed to drop. Harry's eyes widened. 'Oh.'

'How will you explain?!'

Harry furrowed his brow. 'We were sick? Wait, how will I explain? Don't you?'

'Oh, I'll tell some blatant lie and nobody will listen, but you…'

'I'm a big deal,' Harry added with a twinkle in his eyes. Draco felt like shaking him up, and perhaps Harry noticed, because he turned serious. 'I'll figure it out, Dra. You know, I have lied before.'

'Did you then?' Draco snarled. 'And how did that work out for you?'

Sluggishly, Harry seized Draco's collar and hauled him closer. Draco froze and thawed when Harry planted soft, warm, tender kisses on his lips, then whispered, 'It got me to the stars with Draco Malfoy.'

Harry Potter smiled.

'Oh you're a-… y-you're a…' Draco took a deep breath to plant himself securely back on planet Earth. 'A problem. I got to leave.'

And with that Draco ran away. He bolted down the stairs, not looking back once.

The way down to the Dungeon was deserted, but when he burst into the Slytherin Common Room, he was greeted with half a dozen Slytherins recovering from last night – and Draco was still wearing his dress robes.

One by one his house mates looked up and started hollering and whistling. Draco felt his face burning… and a big grin spreading.

He took a bow.

'Had fun then?' Adrian asked loudly.

'I had,' Draco informed the crowd, most dignified.

Daphne smirked. 'Explains Potter's absence too.'

Draco preened, but decided to remain silent, and quickly escaped to his dorm.