Harry stood and looked around his empty dorm room. He finally pulled on his new charcoal and silver dress robes – the ministry bought the entire school new robes as a thank-you for single-handedly defeating the dark lord and his armies- and wondered, not for the first time, what the hell he was doing.
Shaking himself out of his daydream he straightened his shoulders and slipped into a more confident persona, the one that helped him decimate the Death Eater ranks and kill Tom Riddle not two months before. This was his 'I-am-powerful-independent-important-and-infallible-get-out-of-my-way-Death Eater/ Ministry-bunny-and-let-me-deal". This was his usual mask now, only let down in front of his two brothers, Neville and Ron, as they sought, night after night, nightmare after nightmare, to understand and overcome their own actions throughout the war.
He made his way down the stairs, smiling as he looked out over the sea of younger Gryffindors all ready for the end-of-year ball. In a tradition started by Hermione and Ginny a lifetime ago, at the start of the school year, the house of Gryffindor walked to breakfasts, feasts and balls in one large group. A wide smile graced Harry's usually stony features as he found his closest friends in a corner.
Neville and Ginny were dressed in white, and Ginny had put white swirls on her face in usual witch style. Her hair was left down to her waist in sweet curls. Dean and Parvati and dressed in purple, Dean's so dark it was close to black and Parvati's in a light colour to complement her skin while Seamus and Lavender had dressed in green, again dark and light. Ron and Hermione had dressed in the same pure blue, and Hermione had curled her hair for the night. Harry wondered how his closest friends had matched up so completely and also whether they had arranged to match.
He hugged and kissed the girls' -women's he reminded himself- hands and slapped the men on the back. He then stood with an arm around Ginny's waist and an arm on Neville's shoulder. Unknown to him, they made a striking, poignant pose. The dark amongst the white.
"So Harry, who are you going with?" Hermione asked. He and Hermione were not as close as they had once been. Although she was still his best friend, she was more on a 'friends-with-Ginny' scale as opposed to 'brothers-with-Ron'. He supposed this came from Luna's death in their sixth year – Hermione had turned away from him after that, to the comfort of Lavender, Parvati and Ginny. Harry, Neville and Ron had grown closer in their grief.
"No one, Herm," he said easily.
Ginny leant her head against his arm and spoke firmly, "Harry, you said you were going with someone."
He looked straight back at her and said, "Not with, Gin-gin. For. I'm going for someone."
Ron leant over and caught his sister's eye, shaking his head. Then he locked gazes with Harry. He saw the General he had followed in battle, but just for an instant, caught a glimpse of the little scared boy that was his brother, the boy that came out at night when the three of them – Nev, he and Harry- shook with terror and grief over the deaths that they, inadvertently or not, had caused.
He leant forward as his sister slipped away, and grasped his General's arm, felt Neville take the other so they formed a triangle and knew that Nev also saw the vulnerability. Here they were brothers, and the rest of the room looked away, respecting their privacy. He heard Nev whisper, "Anything you need," and, looking into his brother's eye, added, "anything. Even him."
Harry jerked back, shocked. He had not even told Ron and Nev who he was going 'for'. However, looking into Ron's eye he saw no condemnation. He turned to Neville and saw the same reassurance. Relieved, he slumped for a moment, until he again slipped into his General mode and stepped back. He simply turned to the rest of the room and asked "Shall we?"
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He smiled again in anticipation as he led Gryffindor into the Great Hall. One way or another, he was sure this would be a night to remember.
But his hopes were in vain. As hours passed, he saw no sign of him. He danced a few times at the start, and then with only his closest friends, and began to project such an unapproachable aura that even the bravest of girls would not request a dance with him.
As midnight approached his hopes rose again, quite against his wishes. Regardless of the logical part of his brain that screamed 'JUST TAKE THE HINT!' there was a small part of him that prayed for a cliched-turn-up-at-midnight-in-leather-under-the-faeries-and-profess-your-undying-love-deal. This hope also, however, proved fruitless. Finally the night was over. He watched Hermione bully the sixth year prefects into escorting the half-asleep first years to their dormitories and brushed off his friends' concerned gazes. He hugged, kissed and bid them all goodnight, promising to come up soon and get some rest.
All the while, his heart was breaking.
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He didn't know how to deal with this. He had felt grief many times before – for those he had lost and for those he had killed – but it had never been this all encompassing. It was pure strength of will that drove him back down to the Great Hall. Pure strength and a knowledge that if he submitted to his heartbreak that he likely wouldn't be able to move for days. He couldn't do that – war or not, his troops would need his strength for the rest of their lives, and he was determined to give it to them. So he struggled past the disappointment, struggled past the knowledge that this last chance was lost, and straightened his shoulders, once again pulling up his mask. He knew his intention to work would scandalise the house-elves to, but at the moment he did not care.
Entering the Great Hall from one of the side doors, however, he was greeted with a sight that made his heart stop, skip in hope. Probably fruitless, but present nonetheless. Candles. Hundreds of candles, thousands perhaps. More than there had been only half an hour before, all lit and floating, seemingly dancing to the soft music that was playing. He stepped further into the hall, looking around, fascinated by the sight. Sure, the floor was almost covered with confetti and rubbish that hadn't been cleaned, but the overall scene was beautiful. If it were not for his carefully constructed mask holding place on his countenance he would have had to sit down. As it was, he stood stock still and stared.
Suddenly a voice spoke from close behind him.
"Well?"
Harry closed his eyes as everything inside him started trembling on a bittersweet precipice. He could hardly find his voice.
"Impressive."
And again, there was silence. Silence and stillness until Harry felt a warmth against his back. Eyes still tightly closed, he leaned back minutely, straining to the warmth as flowers strain to the sun.
Suddenly a voice spoke incredibly close to his ear, in a mixture of sweet murmur and soft whisper that could have made a chill run up his spine, would have if it weren't for the almost painful tenseness with which Harry held himself.
"It's for you, you know. It's all for you. It always will be."
With that, the other wormed an arm around Harry's waist from behind, and pressing against him, started to move and sway to the music, taking Harry with him.
Harry followed along mindlessly. It was as if every moment in his life had been in preparation for this, like every gesture and every word spoken to the man had been nothing but a lead up to this.
A lead up to this perfect, perfect moment.
Harry let go of the breath that he had been holding for what seemed for forever. Dropping the mask, he leaned his head against the other's shoulder, and linked his own arms around that around his waist. His brothers approved, his love was returned and his heart sang. Everything and anything else could wait for morning.
Wait until after this perfect, perfect moment.
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Okay, I know I didn't tell you who the mystery man was. It was always meant to be Draco, but I had just read all of my others (most of which are DM/HP).
Moreover, the line "It's all for you" was taken from Love Actually and was said to Alan Rickman and actually gave me the idea for this so I really also wanted it to be Snape.
I'll leave it up to you.
Please Review!
RoibenRavus