Author's Note: Hey everyone! To celebrate my 18th anniversary on FFN, I wanted to do something fun, so I posted an open call for prompts - characters, tropes, quotes, and other story elements - and I received 28 prompts from 28 [sacred] friends. ALL 28 of them are integrated into this story which was an interesting time. Stag is fully written and will be shared in four parts with updates every few days.

Alpha hugs to Kyonomiko; this story is un-beta'd and mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: This story is fan-made content and I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


No story worth telling ever began with dirty socks.

At least, no proper, masterfully crafted story ever began with dirty socks.

Draco Malfoy considered himself a bit of a connoisseur with regards to good fiction, good non-fiction, and all the blurred lines in between and therein. Not once but twice, his books had landed atop the Wizarding Britain Bestsellers list. And never had he ever so much as imagined a story about dirty socks.

Until Theo bloody Nott ran into Harry fucking Potter in a laundromat, for Merlin's sake. Nearly a decade after the Battle of Hogwarts, sides on a battlefield and house-inspired pride mere memories in a tormented past, the two of them had hit it off. The pair had become inseparable almost overnight as though Polyjuiced, Amortentia'd, or a strange mix of the two.

Draco didn't begrudge his best mate any happiness in the world, even if that came in the form of the Boy Who Lived and―according to Theo―said boy had become quite the manly specimen. Draco didn't need the details, and even more so, he didn't care to think about Potter in that way, but if nothing else he was pleased to see the sparkle return to Theo's eye for the first time in years.

Draco didn't know that he had ever seen Theo so happy.

He'd even made a proper effort to welcome Potter into their circle.

After the years of strife that wizarding England as a collective had faced in those early years after the war, a sort of tentative camaraderie had developed. Almost unnoticeably at first, but then Draco started to feel it in full force, that almost no one cared to fight any longer.

A perpetual state of battle-weariness had settled across most everyone from his year. It had been stark and humbling and the first time Hermione Granger had said hello to him and waved over a scoop of Fortescue's, Draco had whirled to see who was behind him.

Still, when Theo first brought up his relationship with Potter, of all people, Draco had been trapped in disbelief.

Until the first time he saw the two of them together.

After ten minutes he had been convinced the pair of them belonged together, and over the years the rest had simply fallen into place.

Draco wasn't surprised when they decided to move in together, and he also wasn't surprised when they announced their engagement.

But this...

"You want me to what?"

A goofy, dreamy grin spread across Theo's face―one that had only emerged since Potter's influence had appeared in his life―and he shrugged. "It was Harry's idea but I think it'll be fun. Like a stag night but instead of just the blokes it'll be all our closest friends away for the weekend."

Draco pursed his lips and waved an idle hand. "Go back a moment. To the other part."

Theo's grin faltered, his eyes growing large and innocuous. "The no magic part? It'll be fun, Draco. You could stand to rely on your magic a little less, if I'm entirely honest."

"I rely on my magic a normal amount," Draco clipped in return. "I can't imagine wanting to spend the weekend camping in the middle of nowhere without magic. How in the bloody blazes will we―"

"Draco."

Clamping his jaw shut with a click of his teeth, Draco folded his arms and released a breath through his nose. "Fine. When is this weekend meant to happen?"

"Two weeks from now." Ducking his chin, Theo fixed Draco with a hard stare. "I know this isn't exactly your cup of teabut as my Best Man it'll mean a lot to me if you can refrain from not complaining the whole time, yeah?"

"Yeah." Draco plastered a banal smile onto his lips. "Of course. Who knows―maybe it'll be fun?"

Theo's eye twitched. "Was that a question?"

"It was a statement."

"Sounded like a question. The inflection."

Draco squinted at him for a long moment. "It'll be fun."

Offering a crooked grin, Theo clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the fucking spirit. Oh, and one more thing―Pansy's going to be there so just... if you two could not be at one another's throats the whole time that'd be grand."

"Of course. I see Pansy all the time."

In brief, limited doses, usually averaging less than ten minutes, and most often in passing as Draco scrounged for an excuse to escape.

When Theo only cocked a brow, Draco pressed on. "I don't have any problem with Pansy. As a person. If only she would simply accept the fact that we broke up four years ago and I've not once given her any indication that I want to get back―"

"Draco."

"Right. It'll be fine."

"Perfect." Theo adjusted his bowtie, squaring his shoulders. "I've got court with the Wizengamot in twenty minutes. Got to see about keeping a slimy curmudgeon out of Azkaban―or not."

Draco snickered, shaking his head. "I've never seen you lose a case so I can't imagine today's the day."

Theo offered him a wink and vanished.

Blowing out a breath, Draco sank into his chair with a melodramatic sigh.


Strolling the high street of Diagon Alley at a brisk pace, Draco glanced at his watch. For a brief instant, the sun reflected off of the silver casing, momentarily blinding him, and Draco collided hard with another person.

"Shite," he huffed, squinting as he peered down at the ground. "Shite, shite, shite."

Granger sat on the cobbled walk before him, a deep frown on her lips. When Draco offered her a hand, she rolled her eyes but accepted, and he tugged her easily to her feet. But with a wince she rubbed at her tailbone.

"Sorry," Draco bit out, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was―are you injured?"

"A little." Taking a cautious step, she grimaced but forced a smile atop. "No real harm done. Perhaps you might consider watching your step, in the future."

He felt warmth flare below the surface of his skin. "Right."

Despite her smaller stature―the peak of her wild curls hardly reached his chin―Granger had a way of making him feel smaller than her. And as she cocked both brows high on her forehead, ducked her chin, and peered up at him, Draco allowed a gracious nod.

"Of course. My fault."

Granger snagged her lower lip between her teeth, chewing the soft flesh as she fell into step. "Where were you in such a rush to, anyway?"

Draco clicked his tongue, checking his watch once more because he still didn't know what time it was. "I'm trying to find a wedding gift for Theo and Potter. And I've got a meeting at half three with my publisher."

"Oh." Granger's eyes lit up for a split second. While Draco had never considered her much more than a casual acquaintance, they ran into one another often through the connection between Theo and Potter. And if nothing else, they could always find a safe and common ground in books. "What are you working on at the moment?"

He caught her eye for a second. "It's top secret."

"No it isn't." Pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes, she began walking down the road. Draco had to control his steps to keep up with her shorter stride. "You don't have to tell me, of course, but I know you're only just saying that."

Draco swallowed, his stare lingering on her face for a moment longer than he'd intended. "If you must know, it's a cautionary tale of the forces of good and evil warring within one's soul, a coming of age novel wherein a young man finds himself face to face with his demons and ultimately has to choose the right path, even if it isn't the correct one."

Granger blinked several times as she walked at his side in silence, before shooting him a look. "Are you writing an autobiography?"

"No. Maybe."

"Because it sounds like―"

"Are you going to Theo and Potter's ridiculous Muggle camping weekend?" Draco didn't care to get into the semantics about how much truth was actually rooted within the book. "Because it sounds a bit like bollocks but also sounds right up your alley."

"Because my parents are Muggles?" She scrunched up the bridge of her nose. "Not all Muggles like camping, you know."

"Not because of that," Draco mused, "but you're very survival."

"What in the name of Merlin is that supposed to―"

"What brings you to Diagon Alley today, Granger?"

She stopped dead in the middle of the road, forcing Draco to halt mid-step; he spun on one heel to face her.

"If you must know," she said, a teasing curl to her lips; it occurred to Draco she was mocking him. "I meant to register for a dance lesson. You know, in advance of the wedding." A hint of pink crept into her cheeks. "I confess I'm not entirely knowledgeable about many of the old wizarding dances, and with Theo from such an old Pureblood family, I thought it best I know what I'm doing. As Harry's Best Woman."

Draco eyed her for a moment. The way she shifted on the spot, clasping her hands―the way she didn't quite meet his gaze. As though she were embarrassed.

"No one's going to expect you to know all the old dances, Granger." He swept a hand through his hair. "In fact, most people won't know all the old dances."

"Do you?"

"Of course―but I had to learn them growing up. It wasn't optional." A snicker fell from his lips. "And honestly, I can't imagine you'll have much fun at a stuffy old pureblood dance class. Have you got a partner?"

"No," she murmured, her flush deepening. "Whoever they pair me with, I suppose."

Draco couldn't imagine anything sounding more unpleasant. His upper lip curled at the thought. "Look, Granger. Let me know when the class is. If I'm available I'll join you."

A part of him wanted to see Granger flail over the complicated footwork, while another side simply strove to do decent things every so often. Not too often, mind you. But Draco had developed a bit of a soft spot for the brunette.

"It's Monday evening at seven―but you certainly don't need to do that," she muttered, looking away. "Unless you're interested in seeing me fall on my face, in which case, please don't. I don't even mean to tell Harry about this because it's a little embarrassing."

"Monday at seven." Draco fixed her with a stern look. "Though I could most assuredly teach you more than some stodgy old professional." He didn't suppose Granger would have any interest in a private lesson―and it was for the best. Just the thought of such a thing left him a little warm around the collar.

"Fine." Although Granger looked briefly as though she regretted bringing up the idea in the first place, she didn't retract the offer. She merely gave him a stiff nod. "I will see you then. The dance studio is just―"

"I know where it is."

"Great." Fixing a bright smile onto her fact that didn't entirely reach her eyes, she shifted on the spot once more. "Well, I ought to let you get to your meeting. I'll see you Monday, I suppose."

"Monday it is."


Although Draco spent the next few days vacillating between a desire to cancel on his impulsive plans with Granger, and a flickering hope that she might uninvite him, he ventured out from his penthouse flat Monday night all the same. He didn't even like to dance, and couldn't quite wrap his head around why he had offered.

But a breath caught, his mouth going momentarily dry, when he met up with Granger at the dance studio. She wore a pale green dress that clung to her curves and fell just above the knee with a flowing skirt. Not for the first time, he wondered why she had kept her figure so bundled beneath robes for most of the time they had known one another.

"You look lovely." Draco offered an arm and led her into the studio. "I hope you aren't second-guessing this mediocre plan."

Granger shot him a scowl. "No. Unfortunately, I've committed to this and intend to follow through. Luckily this is only one session, though."

Draco didn't have the heart to tell her it had taken him months to learn just one dance when he had been young. "I suppose you're right, given the wedding is only a few weeks away."

"Right."

The instructor―a balding elderly man who reminded Draco of his own dance instructor from his youth―began to drone on and while Granger listened attentively with a grimace on her face, Draco zoned out.

He took her hand, shaking his head slowly. "Just follow my lead, Granger."

But Merlin if the feel of her hand didn't do something funny to his insides.


The whoosh of the Floo waking drew Draco's gaze from his desk. He kept a small office for his working hours, but rarely received visitors. He pursed his lips with distaste when sleek, glossy black hair emerged and Pansy Parkinson folded her arms and fixed him with a scowl before she'd even left the hearth.

"Pansy," Draco drawled, "to what do I owe the visit."

With a disdainful eye roll, she leaned against the nearest wall. "I heard you took Granger dancing."

Was it not possible to do anything without word spreading? Draco blew out a breath. "Not sure where you heard that, but if I did, it's not your business, Pans."

He knew she didn't love him―maybe she never had―but Pansy's interest in Draco had always mingled with other motivations. His name, his vault, and his influence, all encompassed by pressure from her parents.

"I heard it from more than one source." Feigning disinterest, Pansy peered at her manicured nails. "Are you dating her?"

"No, Pansy."

"I only ask because―well, if you are, I'd like to know before we all go along on Theo's blasted Muggle getaway thing."

Draco snickered despite himself. "You sound as keen on the idea as I am."

Pansy released a long, irritated noise. "I'd sooner rip my hair out." Her slender brows lifted, expectant and derisive at once. "But are you?"

"For the last time: no." The denial felt a little insincere in his throat. Obviously he wasn't dating Granger, and accompanying her to one dance lesson surely wasn't a date―they hadn't ended the night with their tongues down one another's throat, for one thing. Not that Draco was entirely opposed to the idea.

But perhaps if Pansy thought he was dating Granger, she might leave him alone to stew in magic-free misery in the woods with his friends.

"I don't believe you," she hissed, eyes flashing as she misinterpreted his silence. "Honestly, Draco, you're so obvious. I don't know why you even bother lying to me."

Not that any of it wasn't hypothetical, because the fact remained that he wasn't dating Granger. But before he could open his mouth to correct her, Pansy fired him another Look, and vanished into the Floo.

Draco blew out a long breath. "Fuck."


"You what?"

Draco cast silencing wards on Granger's office at the Ministry, withering under her searing glare. "I know it sounds insane. But if you could do me this favour―"

"A favour!"

Merlin, Granger knew how to raise a bloke's heart rate when she was riled up. Draco had yet to decide if it was in a good way or not.

"I just need you to pretend we're there together for the weekend―just for the weekend―and it'll be fine, I swear."

"And why on Earth would I want to do that?" Granger lifted her brows, scowling up at him in that way of hers. "I'm not going to lie to my friends because you have some scheme that―I don't even know what this scheme is, actually."

Draco pressed his eyes shut, massaging his temples to stem the migraine that threatened. "You remember Pansy."

"Right."

"And you know I used to date Pansy."

"Malfoy."

Releasing an exasperated breath, he blinked at her again. "Okay, look. Pansy thought we were dating because of the dance class and I didn't correct her and now she thinks she's right and―Granger, she will hound me all weekend."

"She seems awfully keen to get back together with you."

Draco thinned his lips. "Pansy's great. She's fantastic, and she's going to make some bloke very happy. But it isn't me, and no matter what I tell her she doesn't believe me."

Some of the ire deflated from Granger's stance. "So you want everyone to think we're dating just to get Pansy off your back. I'm sorry Malfoy, but I'm not going to mislead my friends for you. Maybe you just need to explain to Pansy why it isn't a good idea."

Although he knew Granger was right and it was a ridiculous request, he couldn't deny the appeal of Pansy leaving him alone for the weekend to celebrate Theo's upcoming nuptials. "You can tell Potter if you must. I'll make sure the sleeping arrangement is acceptable." His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. "I'll arrange for Flourish and Blotts to put you on their VIP list."

Her eyes blew wide. "You couldn't."

"I could."

"Merlin, you must be desperate." She sank into her seat and chewed on the end of a sugar quill for a long moment while Draco didn't deny it. He swallowed thickly, watching her lips close around the tip of the quill before tearing his attention back to the woman. "If you honestly think I'm going to spend the weekend pretending to be your date just so I can get early access to all new releases, an invitation to exclusive book signings and other events, and a chance to meet my favourite authors, then..."

She shook her head as though scandalised.

Draco planted his hands on her desk, leaned over, and smiled. "Then what?"

"Then..." She thinned her lips. "You're insane, did you know?"

"I've suspected for a long time."

Granger rolled her eyes. "Then I suppose I am too. Fine. But only if you obtain proof of the VIP list by Friday morning."

Draco pointed a finger at her. "Consider it done. Granger, you're my hero." He flashed her a grin, backing towards the door. "Theo's hired some sort of large Muggle vehicle to transport us so I'll Floo in early Friday morning and we can make it official."

With a wink, Draco darted from the office before she could change her mind.


Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first part xo