Harry's not drunk when he and Draco arrive at the gala, but he's loosened up a bit thanks to some cheap beer and margaritas on special. He'd quite liked the Muggle bar Draco picked out for them, and Draco heavily implied they'd be back again together, and Harry has no problem with that idea whatsoever.

"This is..." Harry looks around the massive ballroom decorated in shades of red and green and gold. Normally the gala décor is subtler and involves far fewer balloons.

"Impossibly gaudy?" Draco offers. "Disarmingly tacky? Uglier than—"

"It's not that bad," says Hermione as she and Ron fall into step beside Harry and Draco. "Not their best work, but it's certainly nowhere near as tacky as the Valentine Ball."

"Skipped out on that one, I'm afraid," says Draco. "Single and bitter at the time."

"Not anymore, though." Ron grins and Harry, grateful for his close proximity, elbows Ron in the side. "Who else is coming to this, then?"

"Nev and Luna are over there with Lavender and whoever she's dating right now," says Hermione, gesturing across the room. "And there's a table full of Curse Breakers over there. Don't worry, Harry, no Anthony."

"Thank God," Harry mutters. Draco reaches over to grasp his hand for a second or two. He turns to smile at Draco, wondering how long Ron's going to remember how obviously smitten he's behaving. It'll probably be something like forever, but Harry doesn't think he cares this time around.

"The two of you are going to dance, right?" Hermione looks at Harry and Draco expectantly.

"Would you ever let us forget it if we didn't?" Draco asks.

"Really, Hermione, you don't even have to ask that," says Harry. "We're going to nail that Viennese waltz."

"Viennese waltz?" Hermione sounds impressed. "I didn't realize you'd gotten that far in the lessons."

"Well, it was the second one, wasn't it?" Harry asks.

Hermione shakes her head. "No, you were meant to do a more basic waltz before that. Twice, actually."

"You made us skip lessons, Potter?" Draco clucks his tongue and shakes his head. "You must really not have relished the idea of spending time with me." Harry can tell he's teasing and thus does not attempt to convince Draco otherwise.

"I apparently lost those lessons," Harry says. "We went straight from box step to Viennese waltz. And we're damn good at it."

Draco nods. "Thanks to that sodding song."

"She made you do the Beatles, didn't she?" Ron mock shudders. "Song gets old after a while."

"Draco quite likes it," says Harry, finding Draco's hand with his and interlacing their fingers. He feels a slight squeeze back and hides a smile. Ron and Hermione don't need to see everything. "He likes the idea of love sprung from loathing."

"Well, that makes sense," Hermione says, staring pointedly at Harry and Draco's hands. "Oh, there's Mafalda. Draco, would you like to talk to her, too, or shall I just drag my husband along?"

"Think I'll pass," says Draco. "Business, pleasure, mixing them, you know, it's not really something I'd care to do right now. Those blintzes look rather intriguing, though."

"Blintzes it is." Harry grins at Draco and very nearly sticks his tongue out at Ron, who's gazing longingly at the hors d'oeuvre table.

"Holding hands, then, Potter?" Draco says to Harry as they make their way around the room, occasionally stopping to chat with some colleague or another. "Bit forward, don't you think?"

"Had to touch you in some way, and this seemed the most proprietary."

For once, it's Draco whose face flushes. "Had to?"

"It's not my fault you look incredible."

"Well, in some sense, it is, actually," Draco counters. "You asked me to accompany you to the gala, I agreed, and as a Malfoy, I am held to a certain standard of physical presentation, namely as close to perfection as one can come."

"You've done alright, I'd say."

"As have you."

"Draco!" Harry's date is wrenched away from him and pulled into a hug by Blaise Zabini. He's with an older witch—Meaghan McCormack, Harry recognizes, the former Keeper for Pride of Portree—and excited enough to see Draco that he can't seem to keep his voice down.

"Hi, I'm Harry," he says to Meaghan, extending a hand. "You're Meaghan McCormack, right?"

She shakes his hand and nods, looking pleased that Harry knows who she is. "Nice to meet you, Harry. You do know you don't have to say your name when you meet people, right?"

"I'm just the same as everyone else," he says with a shrug. "How'd you meet Blaise?"

"Tripping Jinx gone wrong," Meaghan says, smiling wryly. "He was going for someone he went to school with—Theo, I think it was—on the way out of a Wasps and Kestrels match and got me instead. He helped me up and recognized me and we've been hanging about together ever since."

"Romantic, I suppose," says Harry. "Have you met Draco, then?"

"Once, I think, but he was distracted—by you, I'm guessing," Meaghan says. "He had something to go and do, attend a match, probably, and your name didn't come up but Blaise mentioned you later, said you'd been spending a lot of time together."

"Suppose we have." Music begins playing, and Harry can't resist tugging on Draco's hand and gesturing toward the dance floor.

"Well, it's no Beatles, but it'll have to do," Draco says with a rather theatrical sigh. "Are we ready to knock this out of the pitch?"

"As we'll ever be." Harry smiles at Meaghan. "Nice meeting you. And seeing you, Blaise." He then follows Draco's lead onto the floor.

"We could start with box stepping, you know," says Harry to Draco as the two of them smoothly transition into a Viennese waltz.

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco says. "This song's in 6/8 time. We can't do a simple 1, 2, 3, 4 step to it. We've got to do this. It's a good thing you decided we were too good for an easier waltz."

"I never decided that! She never gave me the instructions, I swear. I wouldn't—" Harry looks at Draco and the way the light catches his soft grey eyes and brightens up his already borderline blinding white-blond hair. "I wouldn't ever skip out on spending time with you. Not then and especially not now."

"I'll accept that," says Draco, smiling slightly. "You do look rather good, by the way. That girlfriend of Blaise's looked like she wanted to jump you."

"So indelicate," Harry says, laughing. "She was just being nice. Blaise actually did jump you and you seemed fine with it."

"Helped me to forget about how badly I want to get you out of here and back to my flat," says Draco, not missing a beat. "Knew I could make you blush."

"You always can," Harry says. "Can I lead?"

"Not a chance."

"And do you mean that?"

"Hard to say," says Draco. "I do want you. But I also think we shouldn't move too fast, considering the fact that we actually have feelings for each other and this isn't about sex. At least, not entirely."

"I'm meant to ask you to go to Ron and Hermione's with me after this anyway."

"What's at Ron and Hermione's?"

Harry looks around at the balloons and the podium at which at least four ancient Ministry officials would almost certainly be giving speeches by the end of the night. "A better party than this one."

"Why aren't we there, then?" There's a hint of challenge in Draco's tone as he looks at Harry expectantly.

"It's only been one dance," says Harry.

"So?"

"So we usually wait three."

Draco looks thoughtful. "I suppose I can wait for that. But no more than three, right?"

"No more than three, I promise." Harry pauses. "I have to admit, though, I'm enjoying this a bit more than before."

"Don't tell anyone I admitted it," says Draco, smiling. "But so am I."