Title: In The Interests Of …

Author: I_nv_u50

Pairings: DracoXHarry

Disclaimer: I can dream about owning them, but would I do that if I really did?

Harry: Of course not. (whispers to Draco) And I'm glad she doesn't.

Draco: Dream about us? Or own us?

Harry: Own us. Dreaming is all she can do.

Draco: (smirks) It's all I'll let her do.

Harry: You know you're scared of her.

Draco: Bullshit.

Chapter Rating: PG13 for no reason I can think of.

Author's Notes: I think that disclaimer was a bit mixed. Oh well. You got the gist, right? Then they had to go and interrupt. (is not amused) Anyway, the first half of the ball. I like it quit well, considering more than half of it was made up on the spot. Oh well. Fluffy mush, mainly to prepare you for the badly written semi angst next chapter. Hmm… anyway… That's about it. Oh, and if you want that new Harry/Draco story out, you're going to have to flame Draco, because he's being a prat and refusing to follow the plot. I think it's just a ploy to get Harry into bed.

Draco: (forlornly) Everything usually is…

Harry: It's ok. You'll succeed one day.

Anyway, it'll be coming, but with school and Draco, I'm not sure how long. I'll try and have it out by next Saturday. Look out for it ^^ Sort of cliffhanger at the end here, but the next part is coming along reasonably well. It was all one chapter but then it was too long. So this is the longer chapter. Anyway, enjoy, and please review!! ^^

Ron's surprise and displeasure at seeing the sorceress with Harry was obvious, but the warning looks from both Hermione and Harry told him to leave the subject alone, and to say anything otherwise would have started a fight.

Even he didn't fully understand why he hated the sorceress so much. He was arrogant and proud, and most definitely spoilt. Harry didn't seem to mind though, and as he was the only one that really mattered, Ron couldn't admit his intense dislike without sounding pettier than Harry. As long as Harry was happy, Ron would try.

But that didn't make Ron feel any better about the whole issue, really. Ron knew there was just something about him, something about Draco that told Ron that Harry was going to die, and it'd all be Draco's fault.

Even Ron, in his more compassionate moments realized this was altogether unreasonable, but he couldn't help how illogical his feelings insisted on being.

Harry smiled guilelessly when he met up with Ron and Hermione in a side corridor, holding onto the wrist of the sorceress who was looking around in slight confusion and bewilderment.

Draco honestly hadn't known what he expected, but this party certainly wasn't it.

For SeeDs, he had thought it would be proper and strict, very formal, even if it weren't an official party.

What it really was, was a rowdy, noisy, almost brawling crowd of people, with a makeshift bar against one wall and a large, circular dance floor that leaked outside onto the half porch.

It had, at one point in time, been a room where Draco's father had held parties. Private parties, where, when Draco had asked to come, his father had laughed and proclaimed him too young. It had been one of the few things he had been refused, and as such, he had yearned an invitation to those exclusive parties.

Years later, when Draco was still being refused entrance to the special room because he was too young, even at the ripe age of eleven; he had started to hate those parties. The main reason was because, when they were held, he was reminded that he was still a child, when the one thing he wanted most was to be an adult and join his father, in whatever work his father did.

He glanced around the room with concealed interest, having never been in here before. The hall had been out of bounds for anyone except his father when there were no balls, and for everyone who wasn't invited or helping when there were.

He hadn't even come in here after his father's death, when the rule was void and meaningless, simply because he couldn't have been bothered to, grieving silently over the loss of both adored parents.

His gaze was caught and held of a life-sized portrait hanging on the wall on the landing of the stairs where they entered.

It was his family. His father, shoulder length hair brushed and styled, caught back by a black leather riband, not a strand out of place. The classic old fashioned look favoured by his family for years, impeccable in the good quality painting. His beloved mother, smiling slightly, not quite a warm expression in her eyes, dressed in one of those flowing dresses that highlighted her natural elegance.

And himself, at the happy age of seven, where everything had been perfect in his world except for the occasional fights between his parents. He was beaming at the painter. Draco could still remember how sore his face had been after the painter had left, keeping the same expression for hours on end because the artist had refused to do the faces until after everything else.

They had had an argument that day. Something about Narcissa not being able to wear her favourite dress, a lighter colour that didn't become her as much as the dark dress his father had chosen.

Draco felt a slight squeeze on his wrist, and it jolted his attention back to the present.

Harry was watching him quietly.

Draco smiled, a little bitterly. "Harry, I'd like you to meet my parents. I'm sorry they couldn't be here tonight." He was pleased to not that Ron and Hermione had left them, already stumbling around on the dance floor, giggling at each other.

Harry gave a sad smile and turned to look at the picture more carefully. "I can see where you got your beauty." He mused softly. "Your father was quite handsome, and your mother is… was very beautiful."

Draco felt a small glow at the compliment, but fought it down.

Harry smirked at him, and tugged again lightly. "Come dance with me?"

Draco turned away from the painting and lifted an elegant brow at him. "What, you want to be seen with me now? Really, Beaumont. People will start getting the wrong idea if you keep this up."

Harry flushed, but, to Draco's surprising pleasure, kept his hold on the wrist.

Draco gave in. "Oh very well. We'd better get to the food table before Westley does."

Harry just shook his head, but he dropped Draco's hand and jumped down the stairs. He stood at the bottom, staring up at Draco as he came down more dignified, keeping his eyes on Harry's. Harry had felt more than one pang of wistful nostalgia as Draco took in the picture, and he could half understand what Draco had felt for his parents. If it was anything like Harry felt for his own parents, he felt incredibly sorry for Draco, losing them at such a young age.

Draco paused beside him, and leant forward to whisper in Harry's ear. "I don't need your pity, Beaumont. It's over. I've dealt with it." Then he leant back a little with a small wink at Harry. "Come dance with me."

"After we stuff ourselves, of course." Harry replied slowly, a twinkle of amusement intruding his eyes.

"Of course." Draco replied dryly, rolling his eyes.

Harry chuckled and walked with him to the table set aside for food, saddened by the fact that the sorceress couldn't tell sympathy and pity apart.

But then, thought Harry, as he watched Draco pick and choose the food on the table, they were almost the same thing. And pride doesn't allow for either. Maybe he could help Draco with that.

Ron came over breathless, leaning on Harry. "You've really got to get out on that dance floor, Harry. The music rocks!"

Harry laughed and smiled at Hermione as she came over. "Hey. Are your feet ok? Ron stood on them an awful lot."

"Shut up, Harry."

Hermione laughed in reply. "My feet will be fine after a few curagas."

Ron mock scowled at her, and was about to reply when his stare got directed over her shoulder and he groaned. "Harry, watch out. Here comes –"

He shut up abruptly, and Harry turned around, smiling agreeably to meet Colin Creevey, a cadet who had also taken the exam the day before.

"Harry!" Colin's eyes sparkled with worship, and Harry stifled a groan. Colin had had a crush on Harry for about five years, as they were neighbours, and had known each other even before they had joined the SeeD recruits.

"Hello Colin." Harry tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice, but some of it must have filtered through because Colin had a quick flash of confusion and despair before shrugging it off.

"Having a good time, Harry?" Colin seemed determined to ignore Ron and Hermione.

"I only just arrived, but yeah, I guess it's ok."

"Can I… May I have a dance with you later? Just one! I wont stand on your toes or anything!"

Harry gave a glare at Ron, who was trying unsuccessfully to hide his sniggers, and Hermione just looked at him sympathetically. Then her eyes went past his shoulder and focused on someone else, and Harry realized with dread that Draco had heard the last request.

Knowing well his sorceress' aggressively jealous tendencies, Harry tried to put Colin off before Draco got to where they were standing, but Colin insistently kept asking, nervously confidant that he could break Harry's reluctance if he was given just one chance.

Then there was a hand on Colin's shoulder, a cool hand that seemed to burn when it touched him, and he yelped, pulling away from the grip and turning around to see whom it was.

His voice left him, and he could only gape into the silver eyes that glared into his own.

"Did you know," Draco told him, in a dangerously soft voice, "that you are addressing my knight?"

Colin gave a desperate glance to Harry, who started and reached forward towards Draco.

Draco ignored him. "You didn't, did you? No," he continued after Colin wildly shook his head. "No, I did not think you knew. If you had known, you wouldn't have bothered him, would you?"

"N-no sir! Of-of course not sir!" Colin gasped, and his shoulder stopped burning as Draco carelessly flung him out of the way.

Colin staggered, bumping into Ron who caught him and held him up while he found his balance, glaring at Draco.

Hermione had diligently put on an expressionless face, and Harry was silently shaking his head.

Draco grinned at him, suddenly happy. He was finally invited to a party in the infamous ballroom, he had a knight that was remarkably fun to toy with, and the finger foods were not really all that bad.

"Dance with me?" It was an impertinent request, and he knew it.

Harry frowned at him. "No. Maybe later."

Draco put a restraining hand on his shoulder, careful not to send the quick flare of magic that he had for the presumptuous cadet. "Dance with me."

Harry almost shook the hand off, but thought better, turning around to face Draco. The look on the sorceress' face made him forget Ron and Hermione. It was the most mischievous expression he had ever seen, fully and completely playful, quizzing and just asking Harry to dare deny him.

Harry sighed and shook his head, giving Draco a small smile. "Oh, alright. But I'm leading."

"I think not!"

Harry shot a quick grin at his friends, who were staring at him. He winked at them, and they grinned back uncertainly.

Then he calmly took hold of Draco's unresisting hand, and smirked at him. "You'll let me lead, won't you, honey?"

"Honey?" The grin was echoed back in Draco's eyes and he squeezed Harry's hand a little. "Tell you what. I lead for a while, then you, and whoever leads best can lead."

Harry widened his eyes in mock shock. "My God! Are you being diplomatic?"

"Don't get used to it. It's just that this room… It does something…" Draco's tone was dry, and very I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it.

Harry smiled, and waved carelessly over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione before leading Draco onto the dance floor, where he stood staring at him for a while.

"Well? Are you going to lead or not?"

Harry blinked and slowly put out his hands in the correct position for a waltz, completely ignoring the loud rock music that was actually playing.

Draco smiled in what was probably supposed to be a coy, demure way, but what came off as suggesting, and stepped into Harry's arms, laying his hands carefully in Harry's.

And they started to waltz, spinning and twirling around the room, completely unconcerned with all the stares they were getting, immersed solely within one another.

Sometime during the dance, they forgot that they were supposed to take turns leading, and they happily settled into a rhythm, pressed close to each other. Draco actually forgot himself enough to drop his forehead against Harry's.

Harry's eyes had flown open, and Draco had jerked back, upsetting the flow of the dance, and Harry had to drop his hands to keep them both upright.

They stopped in the middle of the dance floor, staring awkwardly at each other, before Draco roughly gestured to the outskirts of the hall. "Want something to drink?"
Harry nodded, a little breathless, both from the dance and the unexpected contact.

He didn't notice all the looks they were getting from the rest of the people, but Draco did, and, as he poured himself some wine, he realized he had gone over the top in dressing Harry.

He looked too good. It was all very well for Draco to look at him like he was, and maybe, just maybe Hermione, because he knew, somewhere inside of his mind, that her appreciative glances were mostly approval.

Harry sipped his own white wine and watched the crowd, both on and off the dance floor. They were getting increasingly more rowdy, and he didn't doubt that most of them were well on their way to being drunk, if they weren't already. All with good reason, he supposed. It had been a good mission, even if it had been aborted early, and most of them were sure to get the SeeD rankings they so desperately wanted. It was also a celebration that none of them had died. Everyone sent on the exam had come back alive, some more injured than other, but all in various states of living. It wasn't very often that this happened.

They had reason to celebrate, Harry supposed, but he couldn't understand the wish to get drunk.

Draco was watching him when Harry reverted his attention back to his dancing partner. Draco's gaze was serious and searching; until he shook his head and smirked at Harry.

"Want to leave?"

"Nah. I want one more dance with you. Then we have to wait for Ron and Hermione to finish."

"Do we have to wait for them?" Draco pulled a face, and Harry sniggered.

"Yes."

"Alright. But I don't think we should dance."

"Why not?" Harry's tone was frank, and he grinned at the sorceress. "I'll even let you lead."

Draco snorted, but gave and answering grin. "I was supposed to lead back there as well. But all right. The next song."

Harry nodded, and they waited in a comfortable silence for the song currently playing to draw to a close.

Then Harry grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. A slow song started. Draco winced, and Harry watched his feet awkwardly. They hadn't been expecting a slow song.

Draco swore under his breath, and before Harry could look up to see what was wrong, he was being jerked against Draco, who calmly took Harry's hands and put them on his shoulders, before wrapping his own loosely around Harry's waist.

"Draco…"

"You know, this isn't really the same as leading a waltz." Draco's voice was forcibly light, and Harry could feel an uncertainty that mirrored his own.

He smiled and laid his head gingerly on Draco's shoulder, his hands moving up to clasp together on Draco's nape.

Draco stiffened slightly, before relaxing completely, burying his face into Harry's hair.

They danced in silence, letting the bond tell each other, exactly what the other was feeling, needing no words to describe the peace of the situation. No words could have been found had they wanted to talk.

They missed an excited, triumphant crow, lost in their own little world that only they could really understand.

The song ended, and still they stood there, perfectly comfortable now, not wanting to leave.

Then Hermione's voice was heard, softly speaking reluctantly to Harry from a little way away.

Harry raised his head, pinching Draco a little when he growled, even though he was annoyed at being interrupted as well.

"Harry, I'm so sorry for bothering you, especially now, but we need to go."

Harry shook his head slightly, trying to get rid of the dazed, dreamy expression he knew he must have been carrying.

"Why?" His voice was too soft, and Hermione didn't hear it over the excited babble coming from another corner of the room. He tried again. "Why?"

She heard him that time, and cast a wary glance at Draco, where he was staring at the small crowd in a vague attempt to see what they were so interested in.

"I… I just think we should leave now, Harry."

Harry caught the small alarm in her tone now, and he stepped back slowly, sparing a glance for Draco, who was now utterly, if uncaringly, curious.

"Alright. Come on Draco, let's go to bed, kay?"

Draco missed the last bit, and shook his head absently. "Hold on, I want to see what's going on."

"No!" The real alarm in Hermione's voice now caught Draco's attention and he stared at her, more curious if anything.

She realized her mistake and flushed, saying in as calm a voice as she could manage. "No, I really think it's late enough. Harry has a big ceremony tomorrow, and you'll probably want to go with him, so you should get lots of rest."

Ron came running up, skidding to a stop next to Hermione. "I couldn't get them to put it away Herm. Our only chance is to get them away from here."

Even Harry was curious now, despite himself. "What on earth are you two talking about?"

Ron flushed, and looked away. "Nothing. We should go. It's late."

"What do they have there?" Harry persisted, and Ron frowned at him.

"Are you going to take the fun off a few drunks over your best friend Harry?"

Draco snorted, and started to walk towards the growing knot of people. Ron stepped in his way, careful to keep his eyes on a point somewhere between Draco's eyes, rather than maintain actual eye contact.

"Get out of my way, cadet."

Ron flushed. "Sorry, sir, but I can't allow that." He managed to bite out.

Draco just pushed past him.

Ron watched him go, and turned to Harry. "You'd better go stop him Harry, before this goes further than any of us can handle."

Harry blinked at him, when a sharp, violent stab of furious hatred pierced the bond.

Draco had been walking steadily towards the group, only a little inquisitive to see what fascinated them so much. When he arrived, he wished he hadn't gone.

In the middle of the group was another life size painting, one that they had obviously sneaked out of the place Draco had ordered such paintings put. The only reason the painting on the landing was still there was because Draco had forgotten it had ever existed, having never seen it after it had been first finished. The others he had ordered put into a small room, which, ironically, was just further down a side corridor close to this ballroom. He had never wandered into this area of the mansion if he could help it. It had belonged completely to his parents, and he had had it locked up at the same time he ordered the removal of all the pictures, to deep in his grief to care.

The picture the drunken lock picker had chosen was probably the worst one they could have picked, and were mocking it, and the cold beauty of the person in the painting. They hadn't gotten to the point where they were drawing on the picture yet, but it was clear they were going to start soon.

It was of the dearest woman of Draco's life:

His Mother.