As Harry watched the ex-slytherin mingle, he felt a memory begin to worm
its way up through his subconscious, to rest on the surface. He was no more
the successful, confident man he'd grown into, but once again an awkward
teen, unaware of who he really was, and trying to make himself something he
simply was not.
Harry was sixteen, newly aware of his sexuality, and mortified beyond recognition that he had what could only be described as a crush. And on who? Why none other than Draco Malfoy of course. Harry's life always had to be that much more complicated. He couldn't just be a boy who survived the dark lord, No he had to be The Boy who would one-day Destroy the Dark Lord. And he couldn't simply be gay could he? He had to be The Gay Boy in Love with his Straight Enemy. Harry sighed, finally resigned to the fact that he was obviously living in some strange fantasy soap opera, and would one-day fall into a mysterious coma. Harry watched as the boy Draco looked at him through his crowd of admirers. He smirked, and wiggled an eyebrow suggestively, and Harry hung his head in defeat. How Draco knew, Harry had no idea, but he was sure he did. And he was just waiting for the blackmailing part of this soap opera.
"Harry?" He snapped out of his memory, and shuddered. What had that been? Less of reminiscence and more of a forced image. He tried to shake the feeling of estrangement off, but this time his emotions would simply not be shaken. Plan B; ignore them. Harry mustered up a smile at Hermione, and said,
"Do you want to dance?" Hermione giggled, and blushed.
"If it's ok with Ron..."
"Course it is." Ron said easily. Harry took Hermione's hand and led her onto the dance floor, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist.
"Harry, "Hermione murmured, their faces too close for him to see her expression, "Do you remember that we danced here, in this very hall almost eleven years ago?" Harry grinned fondly at the memory.
"We were trying to make Ron jealous, so he'd admit he fancied you." Hermione laughed softly, and Harry could feel it against his neck. He sighed, and felt himself relax again in the embrace of his old friend. Not many people understood him, certainly not Hermione, but there was always a sense of acceptance, the way she spoke like she loved him even if he was crazy. Harry momentarily considered telling her that he was gay, but kept the secret locked amongst the others instead. Who knew what that would do to his career? No one wanted to root for a gay quidditch player. Instead he leaned down and let his face bury in her hair. This was security he hadn't felt for a long time, and he relished in it. When the dance ended, Harry bowed mockingly, and Hermione giggled again. They walked back to the table, where Ron was sitting tight lipped, eyes narrowed. He looked from Hermione to Harry, but didn't say a word. Harry felt a second's guilt but was saved by the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.
"I'm surprised to see you here Potter. Thought you'd be off practicing. Big game an' all." Harry turned and was momentarily dazzled into silence by the up close beauty of Draco. He recovered quickly however, and replied smoothly,
"I didn't know you were so eager to see me Malfoy."
"'Course I am. Haven't had a good laugh in a while now." At this time, he let his icy gaze slide over Hermione and Ron, who seemed so full of tension he might combust at any moment. "And you are Mrs. Weasley now? How perfectly horrible. I can just imagine you with your twelve children in your shack."
"Malfoy." Ron snarled, and took a step forward, only to be pulled back into place by Hermione. Harry felt a flicker of pity for Ron, always controlled by his wife. He suddenly noticed the girl next to Draco, smirking silently. Now that he saw her up close, they didn't seem so much alike. Her nose was thinner, cheekbones higher, mouth smaller. But the resemblance was still undeniable; the coloring of her hair, her eyes... even the way she smirked was resemblant to Harry's own.
"And what of you Malfoy? New...woman in your life?" Harry emphasized the word 'woman', and Draco winced a bit. Harry smiled triumphantly.
"This is my fiancé' actually, Penelope Criddle." Harry's gaze met Draco's and they sized each other up, both cool, both pretending not to care. Suddenly Harry realized that they had no reason to even attempt polite conversation, and with a quirk of his mouth, said,
"Well we must be going, want to talk to someone worth our time." And stalked away, followed closely by Ron and Hermione. He didn't care if that was childish, or if Draco's precious Penelope had a bad view on him now. It had felt good to get the last word, and Harry celebrated with a couple glasses of beer.
Harry was sixteen, newly aware of his sexuality, and mortified beyond recognition that he had what could only be described as a crush. And on who? Why none other than Draco Malfoy of course. Harry's life always had to be that much more complicated. He couldn't just be a boy who survived the dark lord, No he had to be The Boy who would one-day Destroy the Dark Lord. And he couldn't simply be gay could he? He had to be The Gay Boy in Love with his Straight Enemy. Harry sighed, finally resigned to the fact that he was obviously living in some strange fantasy soap opera, and would one-day fall into a mysterious coma. Harry watched as the boy Draco looked at him through his crowd of admirers. He smirked, and wiggled an eyebrow suggestively, and Harry hung his head in defeat. How Draco knew, Harry had no idea, but he was sure he did. And he was just waiting for the blackmailing part of this soap opera.
"Harry?" He snapped out of his memory, and shuddered. What had that been? Less of reminiscence and more of a forced image. He tried to shake the feeling of estrangement off, but this time his emotions would simply not be shaken. Plan B; ignore them. Harry mustered up a smile at Hermione, and said,
"Do you want to dance?" Hermione giggled, and blushed.
"If it's ok with Ron..."
"Course it is." Ron said easily. Harry took Hermione's hand and led her onto the dance floor, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist.
"Harry, "Hermione murmured, their faces too close for him to see her expression, "Do you remember that we danced here, in this very hall almost eleven years ago?" Harry grinned fondly at the memory.
"We were trying to make Ron jealous, so he'd admit he fancied you." Hermione laughed softly, and Harry could feel it against his neck. He sighed, and felt himself relax again in the embrace of his old friend. Not many people understood him, certainly not Hermione, but there was always a sense of acceptance, the way she spoke like she loved him even if he was crazy. Harry momentarily considered telling her that he was gay, but kept the secret locked amongst the others instead. Who knew what that would do to his career? No one wanted to root for a gay quidditch player. Instead he leaned down and let his face bury in her hair. This was security he hadn't felt for a long time, and he relished in it. When the dance ended, Harry bowed mockingly, and Hermione giggled again. They walked back to the table, where Ron was sitting tight lipped, eyes narrowed. He looked from Hermione to Harry, but didn't say a word. Harry felt a second's guilt but was saved by the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.
"I'm surprised to see you here Potter. Thought you'd be off practicing. Big game an' all." Harry turned and was momentarily dazzled into silence by the up close beauty of Draco. He recovered quickly however, and replied smoothly,
"I didn't know you were so eager to see me Malfoy."
"'Course I am. Haven't had a good laugh in a while now." At this time, he let his icy gaze slide over Hermione and Ron, who seemed so full of tension he might combust at any moment. "And you are Mrs. Weasley now? How perfectly horrible. I can just imagine you with your twelve children in your shack."
"Malfoy." Ron snarled, and took a step forward, only to be pulled back into place by Hermione. Harry felt a flicker of pity for Ron, always controlled by his wife. He suddenly noticed the girl next to Draco, smirking silently. Now that he saw her up close, they didn't seem so much alike. Her nose was thinner, cheekbones higher, mouth smaller. But the resemblance was still undeniable; the coloring of her hair, her eyes... even the way she smirked was resemblant to Harry's own.
"And what of you Malfoy? New...woman in your life?" Harry emphasized the word 'woman', and Draco winced a bit. Harry smiled triumphantly.
"This is my fiancé' actually, Penelope Criddle." Harry's gaze met Draco's and they sized each other up, both cool, both pretending not to care. Suddenly Harry realized that they had no reason to even attempt polite conversation, and with a quirk of his mouth, said,
"Well we must be going, want to talk to someone worth our time." And stalked away, followed closely by Ron and Hermione. He didn't care if that was childish, or if Draco's precious Penelope had a bad view on him now. It had felt good to get the last word, and Harry celebrated with a couple glasses of beer.