Author's Note: Thank you for reading & I hope you enjoy!
In Which Draco gets an important invitation & Mister Potter cuts his losses
Harry woke to the oddest impression that he was being watched. Too tired to truly wake up, he ignored the feeling, choosing to enjoy the luxuries of his soft bed instead. Rolling to find a cool spot, he-
THUD!
"What the hell!" he muttered, prying his eyes open and encountering hardwood. "Where am I?" Gentle titters caught his ear. His head flew in the direction of the noise, before he realized that he was hungover as all hell and quick movements were not a good idea. He slowly lifted himself onto the bed, which, he now realized was an ebony and leather settle. He held still for a moment and then scanned the room for the source of the giggles at a more appropriate speed.
There, across the room, infront of a wide bay window, sat a gigantic marble desk, behind which he saw the tips of elvish ears.
"You, there, behind the desk," Harry called gently, hoping he wouldn't scare them away. An old house-elf revealed himself, walking forward confidently with a duster in hand while casting a stern eye at the younger, still-tittering house-elf, that hid partially behind the monstrous workspace.
"How may I assist you, sire?" the elder house-elf inquired poshly, bowing and tilting his head.
"Could you tell me where we are?" Harry asked abashed. He hoped that he hadn't returned Ginny's favor by shagging some random witch, but he couldn't remember last night, was in an unknown location, and had no clothes on, so the facts pointed towards it.
"Sire, you are currently in the Master's study," the house-elf replied with quite a bit of judgement in his eyes. Oh, great, another Kreacher, Harry thought.
"Who is your Master?"
The house-elf looked affronted. "I apologize, sire, but I am not at liberty to take the name of my Ma-"
"Cirrus, I thought I told you to stop calling me that behind my back!" a familiar voice boomed. In came a tall man with wide shoulders and platinum bl- Wait, is that-
"Malfoy!" Harry blurted, surprise clearly etched across his face.
"How are you doing this sunny afternoon, Potter?" Draco inquired."I thought to wake you earlier, but decided to let your sorry arse slee-" When he finally turned towards the naked man in his study, Draco shouted in surprise. "By god, Potter, put on some clothes!"
"Well, don't stare!" Harry shouted. "What did you do with them?" Harry paused. "And what on earth am I doing in your manor?"
Draco's face fell a bit, before he realized the opportunity for mischief he had been granted. "You don't remember last night at all?"
"No," Harry said decisively, wondering what they had done to put such a bright smile on Draco Malfoy's face. Did I... no- no it's not possible! But still. I always suspected that Draco didn't play for the same Quidditch team. He's too well dressed and his hair is always done...
Draco saw the dread form in Harry's eye and immediately knew what he was thinking. Ha! As if I would let the Boy-Who-Cried sleep with me! Draco decided to milk the opportunity, dramatically starting, "Well, Harry Potter, last night you and I-"
"Listen, Draco, if something-," Harry sat up, searching for the right word, "-if something intimate happened between us last night, I need you to know, that it was only because things recently went south between Ginny and I. Nothing more will come of this and your silence on the matter will be respected. And expected. I hope you can understand." Draco, true to his house, chose to deceive Harry further, rather than clarify the situation, like a stupid Hufflepuff or a righteous Gryffindor.
"But, Harry," he started, "you told me you'd never regret it. You said you would never forget me, that you would never leave behind the comfort we found toge-"
"That's enough!" Harry shouted, springing from his perch on the couch, flaccid cock flapping uncontrollaly. Draco could barely hold his façade, a guffaw insistently climbing up his throat at the disgust and concern on Potter's face. "Please, if you've got any appreciation for what I did in the war, please, Merlin, please, please don't ever speak of last night again!"
"I can't believe this!" Draco bellowed. "I can't believe you! Are you telling me that the Boy-Who-Saved-Us-All has developed a house prejudice? Are you ashamed that last night, I got you drunk and dragged you back to my manor so-," Harry's hands were poised over his ears, "-we could get even more drunk and talk about undeserving witches? I will not keep it to myself, Harry Potter! I will shout it from the rooftops of my Manor! Not that anyone will hear it, because there aren't any estates nearby, or buildings of any sort, really-"
Realization dawned on Potter's face. "Malfoy! Are you having a laugh?"
"Why, yes I am, Potter!" Draco admitted, smiling at Harry's palpable relief. He arrogantly continued: "Do you really think, that if I made the switch to wizards, I would sleep with a Gryffindor? You lot couldn't understand passion if it poked you in the eye!"
'Lies,' Vey whispered.
'Complete and utter,' Veela confirmed cheekily.
Hermione's an exception! Do you really think Weasel knows how to fuck?
'Forgot about him,' Veela admitted.
'Well, he's a forgettable person,' Vey said sincerely.
For the first time since their appearance, Draco smiled at his beasts.
"You think this is funny? I thought we shagged! Wouldn't you be disturbed!?"
"Of course! For you to believe, to even think, that you could land a wizard like me, is inconceivable!"
"Oh, have it your way, Malfoy. I'm not concerned with who I would sleep with if I switched Quidditch teams, because I haven't. However, if I did, then I could certainly 'land' you because I'm the bloody Chosen One and I would have you looney for me faster than your prejudiced arse could say Half-Blood!"
"You've really gone mad, Potter, if you think that I would let you have a go at me! If anything, I would be with Nott, or even that wanker, Blaise, before I chose you!"
"Blaise is a dolt! And if you think that he's more attractive or deserving than I am, I'm not sure you've got a brain, Malfoy!"
"I'll have you know that Malfoy Holdings has been commended for its exponential growth this past quarter, especially with the introduction of Drahcomn Wizard Technologies, which is more than you can say for yourself, Potter! You work for the Ministry, a boring job if you ask me-"
"Well, no one asked you, Malfoy! And being an Auror is a great deal more interesting than being a bloody businessman! Who wants to sit back in an office all day, when you could be out, dueling wizards? Oh, right, the boy who sat back while my best friend was having Mudblood Crucio-ed into her arm!" Harry shouted, panting and wondering where on Godric's green earth that outburst had come from.
Draco's head dropped, his shame apparent in the slouch of his shoulders.
He'll never let it go, Draco thought. I'll never redeem myself. If the magnanimous Scarhead can't forgive me, then how will the intractable Hermione Granger? I'm destined for this punishment, to be without a new mate, of any kind, for the rest of my pathetic life.
'Don't say that!'Veela wailed, shaking its head.
'Well, it's true,'Vey grumbled. 'What else did you think was going to happen? You were weak in the war and you are weak now.'
That's not true! At least I've decided to go after her, whether or not I succeed,Draco defended indignantly.
'It is true!'Vey argued.'You do not have the courage to confront our mate because you are ashamed of your misdeeds! Again and again, Veela and I have advised that you fall to your knees before her and beg for her forgiveness, yet you still mourn her loss without even trying! Now, she is in the arms of another,' Vey broke off to growl while Veela keened in the background, 'and it will be even more difficult to gain her favor! Pathetic fool. I would spit on you if I could!'
Draco waited for Veela to oppose him, but the winged beast remained silent. The combined disapproval placed a bitter filter over his thoughts.
Realizing he had gone too far, Harrysaid, "Draco, I didn't mean to say all of that."
"No, no, Potter. It is completely understandable that you still harbor ill feelings towards me for what happened during the war, especially concerning Granger."
"We all did things we shouldn't have, Draco. Luckily, for you, it was your lack of action, which, in my opinion, is a great deal better than actually doing something terrible. Like that mad woman you used to call your aunt or the rest of the Death Eaters." Such as your father, Harry thought.
"Lack of action is worse, Harry, because I know I could have done something to help. Maybe I couldn't have successfully overpowered Bellatrix, but I should've attempted it or at least aided you in some other way," he pointed out. "I knew it was wrong, never believed a word Voldemort spouted. But, I was a scared, pathetic little boy, who couldn't find his way. Now, I am set in those scared ways. Now, it's too late to cha-" Draco cut himself off, disturbed by his honesty.
"Draco, you did aid us. You lied to everyone and told them you weren't sure whether it was me or not. You knew well and good it was! We'd known each other six years." Draco nodded distractedly. "We all have things to regret, and it's healthy to be remorseful. If you weren't, I would be worried. But, don't be too hard on yourself, and don't let those regrets color your life now," Harry advised. "I wish you had done more to help us. It would've been fantastic if you had figured out a way to stop that evil bitch, but, then both you and Hermione would have ended up dead. I'm sure of it. Not even your father could've helped a blood traitor," Harry joked. Another distracted nod. "Draco," Harry said firmly, catching the attention of the Marked man. "You did as much as you thought you could at the time."
There was a pause as Draco drank in his words, words he had heard for the first time. Sure, his friends had discussed their wrongdoings before and during the war, but none of them knew about the events that transpired in his drawing room that one evening. Harry's words gave him great relief, but they also caused grief.
'Pathetic,' Vey said snarkily. And Draco didn't disagree.
"I did as much as I thought I could at the time," Draco repeated, resigned.
There was a brief silence. The two simply looked, as if seeing the other for the first time.
"Now let's leave the heavy behind and have some lunch?" Draco suggested. "Breakfast for you, of course, the Boy-Who-Slept-In."
"Yes. Right," Harry agreed.
"Well, come on. We haven't got much time before the Weaselette goes looking for you, if she hasn't already."
Harry didn't reply, unwilling to think of the dreary topic. As Draco made his way across the room, Harry was hit with a sense of disbelief. He, Harry Potter, had spent the night at Malfoy Manor, after getting blindingly drunk with Draco Malfoy. What exactly had prompted that? "Draco, what exactly did happen last night, if you-know-what didn't?"
"Don't sound so dejected, Potter, or I might think you fancy me!"
"Oh, sod off, ferret!"
"Also, you might want to consider putting on some pants. Might give Cirrus a scare."
Harry looked down at his nakedness and groaned.
"So, you're telling me that I was drunk before you sat next to me at the bar?" Harry clarified, stabbing at his sausage and slicing it sloppily, immediately forking a large piece into his mouth.
"Yes," Draco answered, carefully cutting his cote de boeuf into even pieces as he watched Harry's table manners with a critical eye. "Merlin, watching you eat is almost as bad as watching the Weasel." Harry grunted, unconcerned, as he chewed and enjoyed the delightful flavors. "And, you were past drunk, Potter. I'd say half-past pissed."
"Fuck!" Harry cursed. "What on earth was I doing before that? I don't even remember going to Willow's!"
Draco laughed, clasping his hands together, as he leaned back in his chair. "Do you really want to know? Because I can send out a team to figure out," he offered, trying to remember why he'd fired his last investigator.
'Because he wanted to fuck our witch,' Vey reminded just as Veela exclaimed:
'Because he was a creepy bastard!'
'Remember how he said her name so fondly?' Veela asked.
'With that affectionate look in his eyes!' Vey added.
'And he even warned us off her once!' Veela recalled.
'Said we were too rough for a woman like her!' Vey bristled, baring his teeth.
We probably are. Thanks for reminding me.
Vey and Veela were stunned to silence. They had only been treated as parasites by their host; to be thanked left them speechless.
Draco grinned. Don't forget who's in charge, idiots.
"No," Harry groaned. "I'd rather be in the dark."
"If I may's, sire, I's don't think you'se'll need a team," the small house-elf from before squeaked from the windowsill.
"Lucius!" Cirrus scolded. "You are not permitted to-"
"It's quite alright, Cirrus," Draco said. "After all, he's named after my father for a reason."
"You named your house-elf after your father?" Harry asked incredulously, looking at Draco as if he'd sprouted wings and talons. He knew Draco had changed since the war. The two had occasionally worked together at the ministry, before the blonde had opened his own company. But, this was a side Harry had neither seen, nor expected.
"Well he's not my house-elf, Potter. He's an employee, who falls under the category of family, more than anything... But, yes, I did," Draco answered with that trademark smirk. "I did it more to scorn dear Cirrus here, rather than my father. Since the fall of Voldemort, we've been attempting to convince the man to call us by our names, in the form of orders and pleas, but he resists! When Lucius was born, Cirrus honored me with the gift of naming him. I am a Slytherin, if nothing else, so I named him after good old Lucius, Sr." Harry couldn't help the cheesy grin that fought its way to his face, at the realization, that Malfoy wasn't nearly as tough as he thought he was. "Anyway, what were you saying, Lucius?"
"Well, sirs', I believes I's know where Mr. Potter was last night," Lucius said.
"How is that, Junior?" Draco inquired, patting the seat to his right. Lucius climbed onto it with a beaming smile, while Cirrus shook his head in disapproval.
"He's made the front page of the Prophet! And, Witch Weekly released a day's early, so they's wouldn't be the last to print's an article 'bout it."
"An article about what, Lucius?" Harry asked desperately, tugging at his hair.
"Here," Lucius said, snapping his fingers to produce a copy of each. He handed the Prophet to Harry and Witch Weekly to his master.
THE-BOY-WHO-COULDN'T-FIND-THE-LOO, by Rita Skeeter
In a shocking display of exhibitionism, the wizard once famous for slaying Voldemort has opted for a different sort of recognition. While outside the Hog's Head, amidst a crowd, Harry Potter relieved himself in the snow!
There is much speculation as to why he would do such an awful, barbaric thing. Since his youth, Harry has been recognized as a hero in the papers, but with the media slowly moving their focus to more relevant witches and wizards, such as Marnincia Chuchins, the supremely talented witch responsible for the new Quidditch defense 'Narny's Pibblewurfen Loop,' and the WIC (Wizard In Charge) of Malfoy Holdings, the handsome and elusive Draco Malfoy, it is obvious that Harry is missing the spotlight and eager to reveal his true patronus to the wizarding world. Harry Potter is more than just a seeker; he is an unstable, attention seeker, a young boy still suffering the loss of his parents and the neglect of his relatives and alleged mentor, Albus Dumbledore, who is now deceased.
We spoke to witches and wizards present during the incident and asked their thoughts. While some believed that what they saw was no big deal, others believed it was.
"Well, he's bloody Harry Potter. He can do what he wants, can't he?" said Abeforth Dumbledore, the former headmaster's brother.
Miriam Ervin, chairman of P.U.W. (Parents for Underage Wizards) said, "I think it's just ridiculous! Horrendous! How dare he do such a nasty thing? Children look up to him, you know! He should be tried by Wizengamot! "
An inebriated young wizard, who wished to remain nameless, said: "I think it was brilliant or my name isn't James Tuckett!"
Esmeralda Inalda, a regular at the pub, claimed, "Harry's the biggest man I've ever seen! He can floo me anytime. My address is-"
For legal reasons we were not allowed to print her address, but it is clear that Harry's lady fans are not put out by his actions. Neither are we, Harry. However, we do hope that Mr. Potter addresses his issue with being out of the papers. If left to develop, we, at Witch Weekly, fear for what the Golden Boy may do next!
Please enjoy the pictures of the event below. Note that we have slowed the images down, so that our readers can receive maximum effect.
"I – c-can't breathe," Draco gasped. He clutched his left side, from the pain of laughing so excessively, The image of Harry bleeding Potter taking a piss in the snow, while clearly shouting, maybe even singing, something at the top of his lungs, was unbearably gut-busting. "Jealous of the handsome and elusive Draco Malfoy, are you?"
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry ordered, re-reading the Prophet article.
Potter's Peculiar Promenade, by Archibald Withers
Sighting the friendly Harry Potter about the town is not uncommon, but it is always a delight to chat with him. Last night, at Sally's Saloon, Perry Pogsgibton, Chief Editor, ran into our amicable war hero. After Potter sang a round of karoake described by customers as 'slightly dreadful,' the wizard hoisted himself atop a table and began performing an astonishing jig. We now understand it to be called 'the Chicken Dance,' which is a dance imitating hens and mallards, fashionable for Muggle children in the 1950's.
After de-mounting the table, Potter 'did the moonslide' to the restroom, another Muggle dance, made popular by the infamous, deceased child molestor, Michael Jackson.
Barkeeps expressed concerned at Potter's drinking, continuing even after he returned from the loo – which he was unable to locate earlier that evening at the Hog's Head –, and went so far as to label him a 'possible alcoholic.' We hope that our favorite war hero will re-evaluate his musical and life choices, after a good night's rest. Good luck, Harry. And, remember, if you can conquer Tom Riddle, you can conquer this.
Draco's cacchination echoed off the walls, tears threatening to roll down his cheeks after he read of the piece in the Prophet.
"I can't believe this," Harry groaned, taking the magazine and handing Draco the newspaper. "They think I'm an alcoholic!"
He barely finished reading the second article, before he started banging his head against the table, rattling the young house elf.
"You're scaring, Lucius, Potter," Draco accused, comforting Lucius with a pat on the head. "At least it's beneath the fold, eh?"
"I's supposes this isn't the time to let you know the Quibbler published an article, too?" Lucius inquired quietly.
"Nooo!" Harry wailed. "I can't handle anymore."
"I'll pick one up later today, then!" Draco said cheerfully. "For the time being, we've got work to do."
"We?"
"Yes, we, Potter. You might not remember last night, because of your common blood, but Malfoys are superior beings. We only get pissed if we allow ourselves to. It has nothing to do with the amount of liquor ingested," Draco replied snootily.
"Malfoys are only superior in their ability to sneak onto the winning side, in just the nick of time," Harry retorted.
"And is that not a skill to be proud of? I never lose!"
"Except in Quidditch," Harry taunted. "You've never won against me!"
"That was at Hogwarts! Let's see how well you fare against me now, Potter, when I'm a fully grown man, and you're still the same height as you were in fourth year!"
"Height has nothing to do with it, Malfoy! It's all in the flying, and I'm a better flier than you!"
"I'll have you know I was riding brooms while you still thought you were a Muggle! I practically flew out of my mother's womb!"
"That's disgusting, and obviously means you have no talent, because, uh, was it you that got to be seeker your first year? No! I think it was me!"
"You daft chuffer! They only put you on the team because-"
"Because you threw Neville's Remembrall and I caught it like the talented prodigy that I am!"
"You're saying it was my fault!?" Draco cried, outraged at the thought. He remembered young Draco being furious over the ordeal, ranting to Crabbe and Goyle and plotting to get revenge.
"Yes," Harry affirmed smugly, drinking from his tea.
"Bollocks," Draco sighed, shaking his head. "Should've never thrown that damn thing."
"Well, that should teach you to be mean! What did you have against Neville anyway?"
"He's a Longbottom! What don't I have against Neville?"
"You're not in the habit of making sense, are you, Malfoy?"
"It's a Slytherin thing."
"Draco's got a bird? A very large bird?" Theo guessed.
After Pansy had barged into Zabini's Estate, the two had spent hours trying to put the answer in Theo's head. Of course, those hours were heavily interspersed with alcohol and joints, which meant most of the time was spent on reminiscing, food runs, and speculating at the sexual habits of merepeople, with the occasional prank Floo. When they all awoke the next morning, to the realization that no progress had been made, they decided to switch tactics.
So here Theo sat, on the chaise, attempting to make words of his friends' charades. Their actions grew more frantic as time passed. Currently, Pancy was fluttering her eyelashes and flashing coy smiles while Blaise watched her with wide eyes. Then suddenly she would curl her hands and scrunch her nose as Blaise gestured something exploding from Pansy's back. They actions grew more ridiculous as they repeated them. Finally Theo shouted, "Well do something different! I have no idea what it is!"
Pansy huffed, about to tell him off, but just then Blaise bumped her shoulder, armed with an idea. The two whispered for a bit, their expressions growing enthusiastic, which shifted Theo's boredom to curiosity. They then set the stage by conjuring a large mattress on the ground. Pansy knelt down on the floor while levitating a table while Blaise lay on it, gripping the sides like a terrified feline.
The mattress only protected half the floor the table was under, so if Blaise accidentally fell in just the right way – which Theo thought was a definite possiblility for Blaise –, then he might seriously injure himself. Before Theo could air his grievances about the safety aspect of this scheme, the play started. Pansy mimicked a catwalk by swaying her free arm as Blaise watched. Then, from nowehere, the bastard stood and took a large unnecessary stomp, arms flailing over some inivisible railing before him. Funny,Theo thought, he almost looks like-
"Weasley! He's a Weasley!?" Theo yelled, excitedly, before realizing that his guess made absolutely no sense.
But Blaise started nodding wildly, pointing at Pansy with both hands. Why did Weasley almost fall off his box at the World Cup? Theowondered, attempting to recall what it was. Ah! There were leperchauns throwing gold, which a Weasley would certainly dive for! "He's a leperchaun?" he asked more unsurely. Blaise shook his head and started motioning for what came after. Still, Theo had no idea. Shaking his head, Blaise finally dropped his hand to his crotch, miming a wank.
The answer hit him like a bludger to the head.
"MALFOY'S A VEELA!" he screeched, jumping from the chaise and taking Pansy so much by surprise that she dropped her wand, and by effect, Blaise.
"DAMMIT PARKINSON!" Zabini shouted as his knees cracked against the floor. He howled and grabbed his knees as he rolled around on the floor pathetically.
"So sorry, it was an accident," Pansy apologized, primly, with a Slytherin smirk on her face. "But yes, Draco's a Veela, Theo! Good job, only took you half the century."
"How on earth is he a Veela? I thought the Malfoys were Pure-blood! I am certain that the Malfoys are Pure-blood! Why else did they champion the noseless wonder's cause?"
"No, the only thing that we can be certain about when it comes to Malfoys is that they are exceptionally adept at being on the winning side," Pansy informed.
"You'll pay for this, Pansy," Zabini threatened, still moaning on the floor.
"Oh quit your whinging and get up! Now the real work starts!"
"It's always about work with you," Blaise whined, unsteadily rising to his feet.
"So Granger is Draco's mate?" Theo clarified, still stumped by the new information.
"Yes," Pansy affirmed. "And we've got to get her interested. The idiot insists that he can't have her, but I won't watch Draco die without even trying!"
"Die is a bit much, isn't it?" Blaise asked incredulously, unwilling to believe one of his closest mates needed anything, least of all a witch. "It's not like he won't survive without her."
"True, but what is his quality of life without her? I'm guessing his Veela heritage kicked in towards the end of the war. It's only been five years, more or less, and see how gloomy he's already become," Theo pointed out. "Huh, it all makes sense now." He thought back to his confusion the first time Draco turned him and Blaise down for a night out. They had planned to go the Thoroughbred Thestral weeks prior. When Blaise and Theo had reached Malfoy Manor, they hadn't had time to leave the Floo before a surly and irate Draco told them they would be going out without him. Blaise, being Blaise, attempted to convince him to come along, but Draco had brushed him off with a few brusque words and left the two in his parlor, confused and a bit offended. That confusion had rapidly transformed into an unsaid expectation that, while Draco enjoyed going out with his friends, he would not be present if shagging was on the agenda.
"Exactly. And what's the point of living when you don't really want to?"
There was a deep moment of silence.
"What's the plan, then, Parkinson?" Theo asked.
"Well here's what I've been thinking..."
The mood of the library was dreary. Harry and Draco sat across from the window-walls on massive armchairs, watching through the glass as rose petals fluttered in wind and the birds, brave enough to face the cold, fed.
"So you've decided, then?" Draco asked. "You're absolutely sure?"
"Yes," Harry said with an air of finality. Draco thought it was mostly bravado.
"This is a big deal, Potter. You've spent years with the woman. All jokes about her being a Weaselette aside, this takes some serious thinking, not just a rash-"
"Malfoy, with all due respect, I know what I'm doing. If something like this had happened a few years ago I would have been devestated. She was all I could think of, all I could see, you know? But now... Now I see other witches, Malfoy, and I wonder about them. And it's obvious that she does, too. So, if it's meant to happen, it'll happen, but I think that we both need time to do our own things, date other people, and all that."
"That is surprisingly mature compared to the nonsense you were spewing last night," Draco said, surprised by the sound logic behind Harry's next move.
"You do know my friends and I destroyed all but two of the Horcruxes, right?" Harry asked rhetorically, crinkling his brows. "And one of those Horcruxes was me. So I literally died at the hands of Voldemort and then came back."
"My, my, your head has inflated since Hogwarts, Potter!" Malfoy laughed. "You mention your war stories every five minutes."
"Well they're amazing stories," Harry defended. "And you continuously need to be knocked down a peg."
"You'll never be able to do it," Draco promised, smiling. "Now then, I need to get that Quibbler article if you're all sorted out. I can't wait to see what the honourable Miss Lovegood has written about you!"
"Why me?" Harry groaned, hiding his face. "It's not fair that I can't go out and get pissed without being called an alcoholic. The worst part is that they genuinely wished me luck! There'll be at least twenty flower deliveries and a howler from Mrs. Weasley when I get home. How many galleons do you want to put on it?"
"None thank you. I like to win," Draco deadpanned.
Harry groaned again, throwing himself from his chair. "I've got to get back to the flat before I lose my nerve."
"Right." Malfoy nodded stiffly, rising from his chair.
Harry walked towards the limestone fireplace, a grand fixture that could easily fit three St. Nicholas' in it, side by side. "You don't mind if I use your Floo, do you?"
"Of course not." Draco nodded towards the antique genie-lamp on the shelf beside the hearth.
"Thank you." Harry grabbed a handful of the green powder and stepped in. "I'll see you later!"
Draco didn't return the sentiment, his face stony as he watched the wizard disappear in a puff of smoke. He turned towards the window, spotting a few birds pecking at the frozen fountain. It felt like he was watching himself, nibbling at a loaf that would never feed him.
I was supposed to get an in with Hermione through Potter. Now he's left and there's no surety that he'll be back. I've failed.
'You have failed,' Vey confirmed. 'It's time to move onto my plan. We'll need hog ties, scotch ta-'
'Over my dead body!' Veela shouted dramatically.
'That can be arranged,' Vey threatened, cracking his neck.
'You'd just kill both of us!'
'It'd be worth it to not have to hear your voice again!'
"Oh, shut up, you two!"
"Make it a point to talk to your books, Malfoy?" Harry said from behind him.
"Potter!" Draco jumped, turning to see the cheeky wizard watching him carefullly.
"Who were you telling to shup up?" Harry asked curiously.
"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me," Draco said.
"Yeah? Try me."
"I'm afraid that's a story for another time, Potter. This is something I haven't told even my closest of friends."
"I haven't told my closest friends about Ginny yet. It's easier that way," Harry admitted.
"Yes, but this is a more serious issue. And I don't mean to sound snooty, but if this doesn't turn out, then I'll be alone, moping for someone who doesn't want me."
"Why would you cry over someone who didn't want you? Weren't you the one who just told me that there were plenty of gnomes in the garden?"
"Yes, but I do not have the free will that you do," Draco hinted, almost pinching himself for talking too much.
Harry narrowed his eyes, trying to put the story together. "You have no choice in the matter?"
"No."
"Hmm," Harry hummed. "This isn't over, Malfoy. But, I have to be on my way because Ginny saw me just as I came back here and I'm sure she's wondering why I left so quickly. I forgot to invite you to the Burrow for dinner on Sunday."
"The Burrow? Have you gone mad? I thought you were going to cut it off with Ginny!"
"I am, but I've got a standing invitation to the Burrow. And Mrs. Weasley always says that any friend of mine is a friend of hers. We can put that to the test on Sunday. Besides, Ginny won't be there because she's got an away game. Port-keying to Hungary tomorrow."
"That makes more sense. But I don't know," Draco said uncertainly.
"Come on! There'll be people you know! Ron, George, Charlie-"
"You're just naming Weasleys! A family that I have made fun of since I was born!"
"Right." Harry thought for a moment. "Neville, Luna, Lavendar, Kingsley, a few other Ministry big wigs, unfortunately Cormac, Hermione, and oh yes Oliver!"
"Hermione and Oliver Wood? They're dating now, aren't they?" Draco asked lightly, tracing the pocketwatch in his trousers.
"Hermione and Oliver? God no!" Surprise colored the blonde's features.
"They seem to be, seeing as they were plastered across the rags, playing tonsil Quidditch, " Draco bit out. "Before you decided you missed being on the front page, of course."
"Oh, that," Harry said vaguely. He had the funniest feeling that the Slytherin was fishing for information.
"Yes, that," Draco prompted. Harry obliged, if only to see where this was going.
"Well, Oliver's ex-girlfriend got pregnant by his best mate while they were dating. He's been forlorn, depressed and, honestly, just pathetic in general, so Hermione 'did him a favor.' But if you ask me, it wasn't a favor. All she's done is set him up for another letdown, because now he's sniffing around her. Can you believe that he actually asked me what her address was the other day?"
'Vey, smash!' Veela chuckled before he obliged, smashing a wooden crate into oblivion. 'Do you think his head will crumple like that?' Veela asked curiously.
'Less resistance,'Vey replied,his ghastly whetted fangs flashing against his black fur like a knife in the night.
"I hope you didn't give it," Draco said delicately. "Granger stranger danger and all that."
"Like I was going to tell him! Wood might be a friend, but he's not the right guy for Hermione," Harry stated firmly, watching Draco's eyes. What is this sneaky Slytherin up to? Harry wondered. "Anyway, what do you say about Sunday? It sort of turns into an all day thing. In fact, because Bill and Charlie will be there, we can probably get a game of Quidditch going."
"You know what, Potter? I think I will take you up on that," Draco announced, the machinery of his mind whirling a mile a minute.
"Nice!" Harry said. "I'll see you on Sunday, then?"
"Sunday it is, Potter. And, just a heads up, if I were you, I might find a few hours to practice within the next three day."
"Ooo, I'm so scared," Harry taunted. "Fortunately all of the precedence is in my favor."
"Yes, but I'm playing to catch more than just the snitch," Draco remarked.
"We'll see," Harry said, opening the genie lamp again.
Right after he opened his fist Draco shouted, "And stop wasting my Floo powder, Potter!"
The ghost of Harry's laugh whispered through the library, putting a smile on the Slytherin's face.
Author's Note: Reviews mean faster updates. I have the next few chapters written out, but after those are posted there won't be much motivating me if I don't get to hear your thoughts, good or bad. I'm not a big fan of cliffhangers but I will utilize those if it gets you silent readers to talk. Don't be a Muggle, choose to review!