Disclaimer: See chapter one!

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Chapter 6 – The Feast

The guests were already at the party when Harry, Draco and Hetti arrived. The two boys didn't know what to expect, but they definatly didn't expect the feast to be this grand. The room was at the far end of the Palace, explaining why Harry and Draco had never come across it, and it was huge. Even bigger than the one in the temple. It was circular in shape, with a long, rectangular table at the far end, reserved for royalty and the Five. Other smaller tables were placed down the left and right side of the room and were already occupied by the not so important people. The centre of the room was completely void of anything; no doubt this was used for a dance floor. There was no music, but people were mingling on the dance floor, just talking to others while sipping glasses of wine.

Hetti lead the two boys over to the head table, and showed them to their seats, which were situated in the centre. She watched them as they sat down nervously, and sighed when they started fidgeting. She would thank all the Gods known to existence if they pulled this off without arousing suspicion.

"Listen carefully you two," she hissed quietly. "I don't want any funny stuff. Just sit here, eat when the meal is served, dance together every so often, and don't argue."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "No sweat," he said. "That shouldn't be a prob-" He stopped mid-sentence.

"Potter!" he barked in Harry's ear, who, at Draco's tone, started to look guilty. "Could you please not fidget with your clothes?"

Harry scowled. "Well, they are really uncomfortable, you know. They're too tight!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop you're whining! It could be worse!"

Harry looked thoughtful. "You're right," he said. "I could be wearing a dress." He looked pointedly at Draco's latest attire, and Draco glared at him.

"That, may I remind you, is so not my fault! It's not as if I chose to wear this!"

"Oh, I dunno," Harry snickered. "It suits you. Maybe you should think about wearing dresses from now on."

Draco was about to lunge at Harry for the unbearable insult, when Hetti broke them up.

"Guys!" she snapped. "Stop it! You two are supposed to be getting married, remember! So would you please start acting like it and stop arguing!"

The two boys bowed their heads in shame. "Sorry, Hetti," they both muttered. Hetti beamed.

"Now I'm going over there to sit in my seat," she pointed to a space down the table. "If you need me then just come over and I'll try and help. But in the meantime, just behave yourselves. Do you think you'll be able to manage that?"

Harry and Draco nodded.

"Good. I'll see you later, then." Hetti waved goodbye, then walked over to the bottom of the table and greeted the rest of the Five before sitting down in her seat.

"So what now then?" Harry asked, turning towards Draco.

"I don't know about you," Draco said. "But I'm going to get myself a drink."

He stood up and walked across the large room over to a small square table with lots of glasses and a large bottle of red wine. Draco was pouring himself a glass, when he heard someone come up behind him.

"Is that all they've got?" Harry asked, eying the wine distastefully.

"'Fraid so," Draco replied, and downed his drink with a scrunched up face. When he'd drunk about half of the glass' contents, he spluttered and wiped his tongue with his free hand.

"Ewww," he gagged. "I like red wine, but that stuff is disgusting!"

Harry looked worried. What else were they supposed to drink if the wine was a little (ok, a lot) less than satisfactory?

"Give it here," Harry snapped, and snatched the glass from Draco's hand. He took a large gulp, downing the rest of the wine in one swallow.

"It's not that bad," he said, pouring himself another glass.

Draco scoffed. "Speak for yourself, Potter. There is no way in hell that I'm going to even let that stuff touch my lips ever again!"

But still, despite his stubbornness and resentment, Draco found himself, as did Harry, drinking far too many glasses of wine.

And when everyone sat down for the first course meal, the amount of alcohol they had absorbed did not help them much. They were hyper, they were tipsy, and they almost blew their cover more than a few times. Hetti, who had been watching the two boys for the entire evening, was most certainly annoyed. The moment they were alone, and she was able to slide out of all conversations she was having, Hetti walked over to the boys and whacked them both on the head.

"Ow!" they both complained, while rubbing their heads forcefully.

"Serves you right!" Hetti hissed. "Do you want anyone to figure out what's going on? What are you playing at?"

She glared at them, but softened at their guilty expressions.

"We're sorry," Harry said apologetically.

"Yeah," Draco agreed. "We'll be more careful from now on."

Hetti sighed. "You'd better," she warned them. "Now there's not much longer left of the feast, so try and hold out for the rest of the night. Go and sit back in your places now, dessert is being served."

The dessert wasn't too bad, if only a little plain. It consisted of many different types of fruit, some of which Harry and Draco had never even heard of, never mind eaten. When everyone had finished eating, the man sat two seats down to the right of Draco stood up and tapped his wine glass with a spoon to gain everyone's attention.

"May I have your attention please," he called to the crowd. The room suddenly became silent and everyone turned to look at the man, who Draco earlier found out was Princess Nefertiri's father.

"I would just like to say a few words concerning the reason why we are all gathered here today," he continued. "I am so happy and proud that my beautiful daughter Nefertiri had finally found the love of her life whom she wishes to marry. And I do not think I could have asked for a more perfect gentleman to become part of our family. I could not have hoped for a better match for my Nefertiri than the handsome Tjaroy. Today is a joyous day, as we celebrate the coming together of our two families, which will become official in less than nine days time. I think that I speak for everyone in this room when I say the best of luck and I hope you have many happy years together as husband and wife." He raised his glass. "To Nefertiri and Tjaroy."

Everybody else also raised his or her glass, and repeated "To Nefertiri and Tjaroy." They all drank, as did Harry and Draco. The man sat down, and turned towards the two boys, giving them a large smile, which they returned.

Noise filled the room once more as people once again became absorbed in their own conversations.

"That was a nice speech," Draco said to Harry.

"It was."

"I felt a bit awkward when he was referring to me as his daughter, though," Draco grinned wolfishly.

Harry grinned back. "Although," he said. "I'm not surprised that you were the one who took the woman's role."

Draco looked suspicious. "How so?"

Harry smirked. "Well you are the more feminine one of us both!"

"That, Potter, is where you're wrong," Draco said, feeling offended. "I happen to be a very masculine guy."

Harry snorted. "Of course, right in between getting manicures, wearing expensive French perfume, spending absolutely ages in the bath every morning and taking more time to do your hair than all the girls in the rest of your house!"

Draco huffed. "For your information Potter, I do no wear perfume, it is an expensive French cologne. There's nothing remotely female about that!"

"Of course not, Malfoy, but am I right in saying the others things I said are accurate?"

Draco decided to ignore him, and didn't answer. The strange thing was, he knew Harry was right. He may well have got a few certain feminine qualities. But he didn't admit it out loud. He didn't want Harry to have the upper hand. So, in the end, he just sat in his seat and sulked, while Harry began laughing at his expense.

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Hermione walked down the Dungeon corridor silently and alone. She, of course, did not feel exactly secure wandering through Slytherin territory, but, as she had for the past week, decided that she needed to endure this, as it was the only route to her destination. She quickened her pace into a fast walk, sensing that there may be Slytherin's close by. She was right, as she always was, but she wouldn't know that for quite some time. She wove her way through the stonewalled dungeons until she arrived at the place she had been visiting for the past few days. The door was old and rusty, and was a hard metal that hurt when she knocked. When there was no answer, Hermione knocked harder, with a little more persistence. Eventually, the door sharply swung open to reveal the Potions professor, looking rather peeved off at being disturbed.

"Here again I see, Miss Granger," he said coldly, while eying the girl in question with distaste. She stared at him straight in the eye and simply said, "Yes."

The Potions Master stood to the side of the door to let the girl pass through into the dimly lit room within. It was simple; not too large or particularly extravagant, but rather cosy. There was a large double bed closed off by velvet hangings, a small bookshelf, a desk strewn with papers and a small fireplace stood opposite two comfy looking armchairs. There were two doors leading off to other rooms, one to the left side of the room and one to the right. Hermione went over to the one on the left straight away. She turned the door handle and entered the second room hastily. With the Potions professor close behind, she didn't bother closing the door after herself.

The room was small; but not so small that it felt cramped or confined. It hardly had any furniture, just two single beds hidden by the same velvet hangings as in the previous room and a wooden chair in the middle of them both. Hermione, as she had done for the past days she had visited here, sat in the chair (which was facing towards the bed on the left) and opened up a fraction of the curtain. Inside laid an unconscious sixteen-year-old boy with messy black hair and a lightening shaped scar on his forehead. Hermione just sat in her seat and gazed at the boy as he slept. From the doorway, Snape watched the scene with little interest. He had no intention of speaking to the girl, as he hadn't since she had first asked to come here, but when she spoke, he could not ignore her.

"It's been a week already, so why haven't they woken up," Hermione voiced, but did not move or turn her head towards him. He did not know what to say to that, for it was obviously a statement and not a question; they both knew that. The girl sighed and turned around to look at her Potions professor.

"Do you know what has happened to them?" she asked, uncertain.

"No," he replied, his face tight and emotionless. "It is a mystery which I have not yet solved."

"Why?" she whispered, tears in her eyes.

Snape looked irritated. "I have just told you Miss Granger, that I do not yet know why this has happened to them."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Why don't you know?"

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It was getting late now, Harry could tell. The guests were starting to loosen up a little, which was probably down to the fact that most of the wine had been consumed. The area used for the dance floor was packed with posh looking people trying to look good by dancing to the music in slightly drunken (but funny) ways. Harry and Draco had not yet danced, due to the latter's series of complaints. He had been trying to convince Harry that, yes, he did know how to dance (and quite well, at that) but felt unable to do so in his current state of dress. Harry had sniggered.

"But the girls manage to dance in dresses and skirts," he'd said. "Your just trying to make up excuses."

Draco hadn't responded to that. Frankly, he didn't know how, because he knew it was true. Why was it that everything Potter seemed to say that night actually made sense? For the first time in, well, ever, Draco found himself actually admiring Harry. Draco knew he was hot, he had noticed months ago; there was no denying that. But he never thought that behind his good looks there would be a rather intelligent mind in there, too. That just shows what been stuck in back in Ancient Egypt with no means of escape can help you discover.

"Dance with me, Draco," Harry said suddenly. Draco grinned. Stuff the dress, he thought. I'm dancing. But as he was about to agree, he faltered. Harry was completely and utterly blind drunk. The boy couldn't even sit straight. It wasn't the best idea for them to dance together. For one, they'd make complete fools of themselves, and may slip up by revealing their true identities. And two, Draco knew they'd both regret it in the morning. Who knew what they were capable of doing once they got out there? Draco grinned at a sudden afterthought. Yeah, Harry's drunk, he thought. But stuff it, so am I.

He accepted Harry's invitation, and so the two boys made their way onto the crowded dance floor with a spring in their step. The music was much different than the wizarding bands like the Weird Sisters that they were used to back at Hogwarts. The sound was different, as was the beat, and there was no singing, but the boys found themselves liking it nonetheless. They couldn't figure out what most of the instruments were, but they picked out a few that resembled a violin, a tambourine and a drum.

The beat of the current song was quite fast, and so they tried copying the moves of people around them. It went well for the next few songs; Harry and Draco were laughing and having a fun time dancing, although rather stupidly in their opinion. What surprised Harry, though, was not that a slow song came on (he'd been expecting that to happen eventually), but the fact that Draco stopped him when he was about to leave the dance floor.

"Don't go," he whispered, while still clutching onto Harry's wrist. "I want to dance with you."

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Oh, wow! I know I haven't updated in like, forever, but I've been really busy. So, sorry about that! To make it up to you i did an extra long chapter, the longest yet! Hurray for me! I don't know when the next chapter will be posted, hopefully in two weeks, if I can. And don't forget to keep reviewing, you guys are my muse and you help me write quicker and better! So until next time, bye for now.