CHAPTER SEVEN

It's rude to invite people to private functions. Then again, it's also rude to completely ignore somebody who is as close to you as a – say – mother.

So it might just be that Narcissa Malfoy invited Pansy Parkinson to the dinner for revenge against Draco's greeting – or really, lack thereof. Or she might've invited Pansy because she felt that Harry would be more nervous and would show his true colors if a girl his own age was there (remember, now, she thinks Harry is actually a princess from a foreign land.) Or maybe she really did like the ugly bitch and wanted her to be there for her company.

Whichever was the case, Draco wasn't pleased. Especially since he only found out moments before he escorted Harry to the private balcony overlooking a majestic garden, the place where the dinner was to be held.

At first, he thought Hermione was telling a very poor joke indeed when she broke him the news.

"What do you mean Pansy is coming to dinner also?"

"That's what I've been informed! I only just found out, right before I rushed up to tell you – "

There was a sudden yell of anger. Servants that were finally replacing the portraits of Draco outside of the door – you remember, the ones that were knocked down in the first chapter after Draco argued with his father – were nearly startled onto falling to the floor from their ladders.

"Look at me, Harry – okay, close your eyes."

"Can't I wear my glasses tonight? For just tonight?"

"No. You didn't wear them before when she saw you."

"You don't need your sight for this, not really, and you're not that blind without them, are you?"

Harry nearly replied to Draco, but Blaise told him to, "Purse your lips together like this – yes."

"Tell me one more time – why do you love Draco?"

He replied in a dry voice, "Because he's romantic, charming, and oh so clever."

"You forgot good looking."

"What should I do about Pansy?"

"What do you mean, 'what should you do?'"

"I mean, what if she… you know…"

"Is a bitch to you? Don't do anything. Don't even talk to her."

"In fact, you will not under any circumstances even look at Pansy in the eye."

"What? Draco, stop speaking rubbish."

Harry looked over at Draco, standing in black dress attire – he learned his lesson about how easily white clothing could stain from the first night when Harry spilled wine into his lap, it seemed. He was watching Harry sit on a stool being taken care of by Hermione and Blaise. Harry was to wear the white, flowing gown that was the mother of frills and lace, one of the dresses out of Harry's private room's closet. Blaise arrived with it moments before, reporting that he got a few strange looks for carrying such a large, beautiful dress into Draco's chambers.

Together, Harry and Draco were supposed to symbolize two characters in Draco's favorite book, the one with the blue cover. They were lovers and always wore black and white clothing to subtly symbolize what you could think of as the yin and yang of their world. Hermione figured this would silently impress Draco's mother, since this was also her favorite book.

"I'm not speaking rubbish. Whenever someone looks Pansy in the eye, they become lost in her hideous features – "

Hermione sighed exasperatedly and pulled away from powdering Harry's face. "You're absolutely outstanding, Harry. Very beautiful."

Harry didn't know if she was trying to make up for snapping at him yesterday (when she called all three of the men boys for being obsessed with sex), but he definitely knew that wasn't the way to go about making him feel any better.

"Yes, stunning," Draco burred. "Now if you would just hurry up so that we're not late – "

"We have plenty of time," Hermione snapped. She turned back to Harry and brushed a curl from the wig out of his face. "You're not nervous, are you?"

He looked at her blankly. What the hell did she think? He didn't want to be nervous, but Gods! This was worse than the night that he had to dance with Draco at the ball. He was about to be interviewed by Lady Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson was going to be there also. He could imagine Ron's reaction to this: he would say with a blank stare, "Mate, you're in a bloody twist."

Blaise was busying himself, fixing the silver sash around Draco's waist, making as much skin contact as possible in the simple act. Draco didn't seem to mind, and in fact leaned over to murmur something into Blaise's ear, brightening the boy's face considerably.

"Relax, Harry," Hermione said soothingly. "You can do this. Pansy isn't really all that bad, and Draco is going to be there with you. That might not seem like much of a comforting thought, but he'll take care of Pansy if she tries to give you any trouble."

"What about Lady Malfoy?"

"Don't worry," Draco said. "I'll answer any questions she throws your way. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty."

"Even so," Hermione turned her stare back to Harry, "you have to remember to use the voice that we practiced."

Blaise smirked. "Are you sure you want him to use that voice? He sounds like cat that's having its limbs chopped off."

"Don't listen to him."

"All right, let's go." Draco unhooked his arm from Blaise.

Harry swallowed thickly and felt his head shaking itself.

"Oh, don't be a coward," Draco muttered and grabbed Harry's arm, dragging him off of the stool. They marched across the room, Harry stumbling over the dress. Hermione told him to pick up the cloth so that it wasn't dragging in front of his feet so much, but Draco said that the dress wasn't the problem – it was Harry's big feet. This started a small argument that created a buzzing in Hermione's ears.

Blaise stuck his head out of the double doors to make sure that there weren't any servants or slaves or royals around, and together the four walked down the hall, past the different staircases and portraits of old men lining the walls.

During the walk, Blaise was walking abnormally close to Draco, who went as far to snake his arm around the other boy's waist. Hermione ignored the two, but Harry couldn't help glancing at them every now and then. He blushed and looked away when he was caught looking by Blaise.

And they were suddenly there, at the large oak doors. Hermione smiled and nodded assuredly at Harry while Blaise smirked at him, as if to say, "Both of us know you're going to screw up."

Inside was a white room, tiled and decorated with freshly plucked roses from the garden hanging from golden lamps. There was nothing in this room but a row of royal servants. They all bowed to Harry and Draco as they walked, side by side, across the room, ushered by a pesky servant. Harry glanced back at Hermione, but he could only catch a flash of her before the door closed with a heavy thud. He swallowed and looked back in front of him.

The glass sliding doors were opened for them and they stepped pass the doorframe and into the warm night, illuminated by hundreds of pale candles and the stars above. The shadows flickered. There was a secret scent from the garden below and the sugary aroma of the candles. The table was circular. A white cloth was elegantly covering it. The setting looked very romantic. You could half expect a pair of doves to hover over the table, singing a loving tune to each other. It was a bit too dreamy for Harry, really.

He felt Draco stiffen beside him.

Pansy was already there. She was sitting at the table, back straight. She was eyeing Harry openly.

"Hello, Mother," Draco said with a small smile that vanished when he turned to the other girl sitting across from Lady Malfoy. "Parkinson."

"Hello, Draco," they both said in those false voices you hear people get whenever they – say, pick up a telephone in our world.

Harry smiled, just as Hermione taught him to, and curtsied politely, which was returned with gracious nods. Draco moved to the table and courteously pulled the chair out for Harry to sit down, then seated himself between Harry and his mother.

There was the usual civil nattering like, "How are you?" "Oh, I'm fine, thank you! And you?" But afterwards, a silence drifted across the balcony. The pesky servant broke it by scrambling out onto the balcony and asking nasally what they wanted to eat. Draco ordered for both himself and Harry.

"You look familiar," Pansy said to Harry with a smile after the servant left. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she definitely saw him somewhere before.

Harry smiled back graciously. He, of course, knew where she remembered him from – the first night, the one where he served them at the dinner table in the dining hall. It was ironic that he was now dining with the royals.

"You might've seen her at the ball," Draco said airily. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry. I forgot. You didn't attend."

Pansy seemed to flush at what Draco was implying: she didn't come because she didn't belong. To come to a ball that was created with the intent of searching for brides would've been pointless for her. She was already turned down. She turned back to Harry. Her smile seemed to be more forced.

"What's the name of this land you're from, again?"

"She's not allowed to say," Draco interjected protectively.

"That's suspicious," Pansy said. "Isn't it, Lady Malfoy?"

She smiled. She was glowing today, a true lady in a radiant outfit. "It is, of course. But I'm willing to trust her if Draco is. As long as Draco has good reason to trust her, that is."

"Why do you trust her, anyway?" The question was directed at the blonde.

Harry was slightly affronted at the way both women spoke as if he wasn't there.

"I trust her because she trusts me. I don't suppose you would ever know the feeling of trusting and loving someone." He was speaking to both Lady Malfoy and Pansy. Pansy seemed silently infuriated, but Lady Malfoy only politely cleared her throat and looked at the empty plate.

The wine and appetizers – shrimp cocktail and fish eggs – arrived. It seemed that the workers were told that their cue for arriving was uncomfortable silences.

Harry nearly choked on the bitter whine. Pansy smirked and said, "It's very old. Very expensive. It came from my province. Do you have such riches back at your home?"

"They do, but having riches doesn't mean that drinks need to be foul. This is disgusting."

Pansy flushed, but Lady Malfoy didn't respond to her son's rudeness. She merely smiled, as if that was all she was capable of. Then again, she was probably noticing this about Harry as well.

"I do love how the two of you are dressed as Arogyn and Mihad," she smiled delightfully. "I find it very romantic. What do you think of their attires, Pansy?"

"Frankly, I think it's rather cheesy." She sipped on her wine elegantly.

Draco looked at her coldly but didn't say the nasty comment that was obviously on the tip of his tongue.

"That's fine. It is your opinion, after all. I do have a question, for you, though," Lady Malfoy changed her gaze to Harry and began to look at him closely.

Harry's smile twitched and he picked up the wine glass to sip on some more of it. Oh, Gods, she was asking him a question.

"You obviously weren't killed by your God. Draco was telling me about this God that would kill you if you ever took a step outside of your boundaries. What do you make of this?"

Draco glanced over Harry, who seemed to freeze up. "She was telling me earlier about how she thinks her God has a purpose for both of us. That's why she was spared."

Lady Malfoy nodded, but it was obvious she was tiring of Draco answering all of the questions for Harry.

When the piles of food finally arrived on silver platters, shimmering from the candles, Harry blushed and stared at his folded hands in his lap, covered by white gloves. One of the servers was a man he recognized from his first day as a servant.

"I won't beat around the bush any longer," Lady Malfoy said quietly after a few moments. Harry could barely see her through the added haze of steam and aroma. It was bad enough that he was deprived of his glasses. She was cutting her meat into small squares. "Princess, I want to know more about you to see if you deserve my blessings. I want to know why you want to marry my son."

Harry swallowed despite Hermione's warning – his Adam's apple would begin to bob, after all – and he hoped that Draco would somehow find a reason to reply for him again, but it was apparent from the silence that he was on his own.

"I," he cleared his throat. The squeaky, cute voice was forced. He sounded like a little girl with a horrible cold. "I want to marry your son, Lady Malfoy, because he's romantic, charming, and oh so clever. And, of course, good looking."

Draco hid his smirk. Pansy looked over at Harry and stared blankly. Lady Malfoy gave no other response but her smile and her nod.

"I can see that, yes. Is that the only reason why?"

He hesitated. "Because of my father's wishes for his province, of course, so that he will be protected by Lord Malfoy, but personally, I only love your son, Lady Malfoy. You're a woman too – surely you understand what it's like to fall in love and want to spend the rest of your life with someone."

"No, I don't know what it's like, but I suppose I can understand."

She paused and looked at her son, silently chewing on his food.

"And you, Draco? Why do you want to marry this young lady?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he swallowed. "All you have to do is look at her." He took another bite.

Draco had gotten over his initial nervousness, even though the task wasn't anywhere near complete. So many things could still go wrong. He was obviously taking too much pleasure out of this meeting. He was bending his head to hide his smirk; arrogance was seeping out of his every pore. Harry both envied and detested his ease. Pansy seemed attracted to his attitude. Lady Malfoy merely smiled and opened her mouth to ask:

"How do you hope to affect the commoners here in this province if you do become the next Lady Malfoy?" she directed the question at Harry.

Harry was taken aback. Draco paled, pleasure finally escaping him. They didn't go over political matters. They hadn't thought to.

Harry inwardly took a deep breath. If he didn't calm down, he wouldn't be able answer the question properly. Come on, man, think! How did he want to affect the common people?

Well, duh! He was a common person. He knew what it was like to suffer and watch others – friends – suffer as well.

"I want to end their – ah – afflictions. Their suffering."

From the look on Lady Malfoy's face, it was an acceptable answer, but she wasn't finished:

"How?"

"More water supplication, especially during the drought seasons. More food, more schools for education, more protection against – er – corruption…"

"Lord knows, I need someone to keep a check on Draco's sleazy attitude once I'm gone."

Harry giggled – yes, giggled – politely. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Pansy wasn't too pleased. Surely that was a good sign.

And man, wouldn't it be great if Harry truly could have the power to bring about such things to the common people?

"How do you plan on getting the money?" Pansy suddenly asked.

"Pardon?"

"The money. You need money to give more water and food and schools to the filthy peasants. And as for the so called 'corruption,' how else do you propose on keeping the peasants in check?"

Draco glared and opened his mouth to snap in reply, but Harry smiled and interrupted him. "That's fine, Draco. About the money, Miss Parkinson, I'm sure there wouldn't be any problem in finding some from the treasury. Every province has extra savings for necessities such as these." He knew this from looking over Hermione's shoulder at her work for weeks on end. "And if not that, you can always take away from the royal guards' salary."

"Excuse me?"

"It's a necessity," Harry shrugged.

"Necessity? These are peasants we're talking about."

"Yes, and without these peasants, you are nothing."

Pansy opened her mouth but seemed at a loss for words.

"And then – what was the other thing? Oh, yes… I think corruption in the royal guard isn't really a matter of control… it'll eventually make them – the commoners – angry. I mean," he racked his brain for the phrase Hermione used when he overheard her going over her research aloud. "What I mean to say is, when a government provides for the people and doesn't give them a reason to – er – get upset, then they won't. Get upset, that is."

Harry glanced away at Lady Malfoy's smile to Draco's deep stare. It seemed as if Draco were searching Harry thoroughly, yet he was only staring into his eyes. When Draco looked away and went back to concentrating on eating, he looked at Pansy, glanced back at Draco, then looked at Pansy again, who was glaring off into space.

"What you've said is very true," Lady Malfoy smiled. "You have a political and sensible mind. I'm sure you'll be a grand Lady, if you do marry my son."

"Thank you," Harry nodded to her.

There was a short silence before Lady Malfoy once again opened her mouth to question Harry:

"How many children do you and Draco wish to have?

At this, Draco couldn't hold back. He looked up from his plate and stared at his mother blatantly. "Mother, please! I don't know if that's any of your business."

"Of course it is."

Pansy seemed interested also, though in a more menacing way.

Harry almost smirked to himself. The situation seemed fairly similar. (It was practically the same scenario when Draco was pressing Harry for information that Harry didn't want to give. Well, what goes around comes around, yeah?)

"Well, er – we didn't discuss it, really," Harry could've laughed at the expression on Draco's face. "We will when we're ready."

Ding, ding, ding! It seemed he answered that question correctly also.

"Your wedding?"

"This we did discuss!" Draco intervened. "Hermione already has the plans written down on file."

"And the wedding night?"

It was Harry's turn to blush and gape like a foolish fish.

Pansy delicately sipped on her wine. "I've never seen a Lady that's embarrassed about speaking over pillowing matters."

"Ah, I apologize – our customs. Yes, our customs, they're very – er – different. They're different from your customs."

"Obviously," Pansy said. "I just hope you won't turn Draco away on his night."

"No, of course not." Harry glanced up when he felt Draco's intense stare, which left him when their eyes met for a brief moment. Harry had the fleeting thought that Draco was acting weirdly lately, and when he saw Hermione he could ask her about him, but then decided it was only his imagination.

A small boy came in through the glass doors and nervously sang for them on the edge of the balcony, out of the way but still close enough so that his voice could lightly float across the conversation. Many courses of ham and breads and soups later, they had just finished discussing and analyzing, 'The Epercural.' During the discussion, Harry and Draco managed to sneak in a few comments on the deepness of their love for each other. By this time, it was obvious then that Harry had Lady Malfoy's love and that she would give them her blessings by the end of the dinner. I mean, hell! Harry even managed to excuse Draco's lack of greeting towards Lady Malfoy when he chose to run to Harry instead. (He said, "We love each other deeply, Lady, that is the only reason I can think of that would have Draco act so coarsely towards you. We were both wrong, of course, but if I'm allowed to speak for your son for but a moment, we both love you very much. I don't think Draco meant to hurt you. He only meant to show love.") Pansy, seething silently, seemed to realize that Lady Malfoy was bound to give her blessings also.

"May I be excused?" she asked, disgust evident in her tone, after Harry finished his conclusion on Isis, Mihad, and Arogyn's relationship - Isis was in love with Arogyn, but Arogyn dismissed her and chose Mihad instead.

"Of course, dear."

She stood up, chair scraping against the floor. The little singer seemed startled at her sudden storm as she stomped off. Lady Malfoy smiled sadly.

"The poor child has an infatuation with Draco, as I'm sure you know. I'm afraid she's rather jealous of you, but… well, I can't control other humans' emotions. But it is late, and I believe I should follow Pansy's example in a few moments. But first, I must say that you, princess, have gained my respect, and I honestly can't picture anyone else as the next Lady Malfoy."

Harry flushed. "I'm honored, Lady – "

"Thank you, mother."

"Of course. I'm certain that you, Draco, now expect me to help you convince your father that this marriage is for the best."

Draco remained silent, but he didn't seem surprised at his mother's intuition.

"I'll do so, of course… but now, the night is late." She elegantly stood. "Good night, princess. Good night, Draco. I'm sure there is no problem with both of you spending more time together, if you wish…"

"We wish it," Draco said. "Good night."

"Have a good sleep, Lady Malfoy."

After his mother delicately glided away, Draco said, "You may go," to the singer, who seemed all too happy to leave. He left with a sweeping bow and literally ran away, being a child and not having properly learned how to leave a royals' presence.

"Thank the Gods. I swear that child was doing nothing more than howling," Draco muttered as he stabbed his meat with a fork.

"Really? I thought it was lovely."

"You can lose the voice," Draco said with a smirk. "No one's listening except me, now."

Harry blushed and cleared his throat as manly as he could.

"Do you think she can really convince your dad?" he asked after a moment of listening to the humming of crickets below in the garden. It was unnaturally hoarse and husky from the high-pitched tone he assumed for a few hours on end.

"Of course," Draco said, taking a drink from his narrow glass and grimacing with its bitterness. "My mother's specialty is twisting words around other people's mind."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Pansy didn't seem so pleased, though."

"Good. If she's going to raid this castle, I might as well be entertained by her jealous rage." He looked up from his food and at Harry. A smirk crossed his lips and he rested his cheek against his fist, propped up by his elbow on the table. "You truly do look rather stunning."

The grin melted off Harry's face and he picked up an idle, forgotten grape out of a bowl and threw it at Draco's head – with perfect aim, too, despite the fact that Draco was nothing but a white and black blur to him. It bounced off of the pale skin and landed into his neglected pudding with a splatter. Harry let out a laugh – it really was funny to see Draco blink as a purple grape bounced off his forehead – which Draco followed casually with a hollow, sarcastic laugh that came along with a comment on Harry's maturity level.

They spent a while longer, simply speaking about nothings and laughing and teasing each other – Harry couldn't resist making fun of the expression on Draco's face when his mother asked about their future children.

"Children!" Draco shook his head. "Even if you really were a woman, I would refuse to have children with you."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows from the insult. "I wouldn't be such a bad mother."

Draco gave Harry an odd look that eased with realization and a laugh. "No, no! I didn't mean it that way. I simply hate children. I can't stand them at all."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have to have children – "

"To continue the royal line, yes. But – well," Draco glanced at Harry. "That's why I'm marrying you."

Harry forced a flicker of realization onto his face, and nervously looked away when Draco began to eye him. Of course, he already knew why Draco was marrying Harry. He read the journal, after all – oh! The journal! Harry hoped that Draco would invite him to Draco's chambers again. He promised himself he would read the journal after tonight's dinner.

They finally left the row of waiting servants in the white room and pushed open the oak door –

"What took you so long?"

Hermione was standing in front of them, hands on her hips. Blaise was leaning against the wall, twisting a curl of black hair around his finger.

"You waited here all this time?" Harry gaped at the two of them.

"Of course! We're your escorts! We have to!"

Draco shrugged. "We were talking."

"For three hours after your mother left?"

"Yes, and?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed in her characteristic way. Draco moved forward and grabbed Blaise's hand, pulling him along. "Harry," he called over his shoulder. "Hermione will take you to your chambers. You'll stay there tonight."

Blaise allowed himself to be tugged down the hall and Harry stood there, watching them until they disappeared around the corner. He sighed. Well, that completely destroyed his plan; he would have to sneak in sometime, then, and soon!

(I just have to quickly make sure you note, however, that Harry wasn't really so disappointed or eager to read the blonde's journal. In fact, he was subconsciously relieved. Why? Well, Harry wouldn't be able to admit it to himself, but he didn't feel so comfortable with invading Draco's privacy anymore. In fact, if you dig down deep enough, I'm sure you'd find traces of the beginnings of guilt for – you know, Harry going around behind Draco's back, being a spy against the Malfoy family… hell, for all Harry knows, he could be helping to plan the very death of Draco Malfoy. But that was all buried deep, deep within, mind, so only you guys and I know about these feelings of his.)

"Come on," Hermione said with a sigh, unfolding her arms. "I'm sure you want to get out of that dress."

As they went up the staircase to Harry's tower, where his chambers resided, Hermione cleared her throat.

"Last night, Blaise told me that you and Draco were alone in his room."

"Yeah," Harry said. He looked over at Hermione for her to make her point, but she was merely staring at him.

…

"What?" Harry gave her an odd look.

"He didn't… you know… take advantage of you, did he?"

"No!" What? "Gods no!"

She looked immensely relieved. "What did you do, then?"

"We spoke. That's all."

They turned to face each other when they stepped off of the last stair. They stood in front of the large doors to Harry's small chamber.

"You've been doing a lot of speaking recently. The two of you, I mean."

"Hermione, what's going on? What's the point you're trying to make? And please, whatever it is, don't let it be what I think you're trying to accuse me of."

"I'm not accusing you of anything!"

"Then what're you trying to say?"

Hermione didn't say anything for a second, but then shook her head and pushed a lock of her tangled hair behind her ear. "You should change. You're beautiful, yes, but then you also weird me out when you're dressed up like this."

"You act as if I want to be a cross dresser," Harry muttered. He gestured to his door and Hermione let out a small, "Oh!"

She took out her set of keys, unlocked, and opened his door and, after exchanging slightly uneasy goodnights and assuring Hermione that he didn't need help getting the dress off, Harry shut the door behind him.

He crossed the room and opened the windows so that the room would air out a bit.

A shadow moved. Harry jumped.

"Hello, Harry."

AN: I hope you liked that chapter. I'd love to hear more suggestions so that I can improve my writing, even if this is just a silly story.