Chapter 9

"Come on, let's go into the hall." Draco said abruptly, pulling Ron with him as their line began to file back inside the castle.

Draco's manoeuvring did no good in getting closer to Krum. As they made their way into the hall and towards the Gryffindor table, girls were squealing, and people were pushing to get a better view of Krum as he and his classmates seated themselves at the Slytherin table, not far from Harry.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Hermione said with great exasperation "This is ridiculous!"

"You can't exactly blame them," Ron replied "he is an international player - do you have a quill I can borrow? Maybe he'll sign a napkin for me."

"You can't be serious, Ron!"

And there it began.

Draco sat down and examined the new arrivals with Ron and Hermione's raised voices in the background. The Beauxbatons students were huddled at the far side of the Ravenclaw table, still wrapped in their shawls and surveying their surroundings with disdain. The Durmstrang students on the other hand, looked enchanted with the starry ceiling, and Draco saw one sly looking boy pocket one of the golden goblets.

The feast that night was rather more adventurous than usual, with several foreign dishes included which Draco dug into with relish. He had always enjoyed the Hogwarts feasts, but it was nice to have something a little different. He particularly enjoyed the Boullabaise, which reminded him of those long ago summers spent in Paris, but also because he enjoyed making Ron disgruntled. Weasley had wasted no time in turning up his nose at any dish he hadn't seen his porky mother produce at home, so Draco had immediately made a grab for the Bouillabaise and tucked in. At one point they were interrupted by some Beauxbatons tart who obviously thought the Hogwarts fare was too good for her, and he'd had to relinquish the dish, but he made sure she caught his glare. Weasley on the other hand seemed utterly entranced with her.

"What?" he said uncomfortably to Hermione, who was watching him again, but she didn't answer.

Up at the high table, two ministry representatives stood up from their meal as the remaining food on the golden plates vanished. Dumbledore joined them and launched into an introductory speech, which was unnecessary for Draco. He remembered Barty Crouch Senior of the Department of International Cooperation from several boring dinner parties he had suffered over the years. Ludo Bagman, generally regarded as a joke in the ministry, received much louder applause from the students, possible because he had once played for the Wimbourne Wasps, but maybe perhaps it was also down to his wide, foolish smile, which contrasted rather drastically with Crouch's tight, pained grimace.

When Dumbledore finally got down to business, and called for a 'casket', the hall quietened, and Draco's eyes fluttered over to Harry at the Slytherin table, who caught his eye. He saw him mouth please, but Draco ignored him. He still hadn't forgiven Potter for being so…

Unkind was the word that came to mind, but it didn't sound right. Impolite perhaps would be better, but it didn't quite match with the discomfort Draco felt inside whenever he thought of what Harry had said.

Draco watched, half-distracted by his thoughts, as an old wooden trunk, encrusted with jewels was brought in, balanced on Filch's shoulder. He couldn't help thinking it was a rather poor way of bringing in such a priceless relic, but Filch looked rather proud, and for the first time Draco noticed he was wearing rather mouldy and moth-eaten dress robes.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman," Dumbledore said as the trunk was placed on the table in front of him. "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways…their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

The hall was fraught with tension.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector…the Goblet of Fire."

Draco watched, mesmerised, along with the rest of the school as the headmaster opened the casket by tapping it three times with his wand. He reached inside and pulled out a disappointingly rough looking wooden goblet. The only interesting feature of it was the bright blue flames licking at the brim.

Dumbledore closed the casket, and placing the cup on top of it for all to see, said "Anyone wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment, and drop it into the Goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Hallowe'en, the Goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The Goblet will be placed in the Entrance Hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," continued Dumbledore "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the Entrance Hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line. Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this Tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the Tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the Goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are whole-heartedly prepared to play, before you drop your name into the Goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Goodnight to you all."

"Draco!"

The urgent whisper was the only warning he had before Draco was roughly wrenched sideways into a hole behind a tapestry.

"Potter! Unhand me!" he snapped indignantly, trying to peel Harry's fingers from his arm.

"I need to talk to you!"

Draco was about to make a snide reply, before he saw Harry's expression. Potter did look rather desperate, and when he stopped struggling, his expression changed to on suitably apologetic.

"Go on then, make it good." Draco said instead.

"What?"

"The apology."

Harry stared at him for a moment, his pale hair gleaming in the half-light. Then it clicked. "Sometimes I forget who I'm dealing with." he said resignedly. "Look Draco, I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean the things I said to sound that way. I have no problem with - er - your preferences."

"My preferences? Can you sound any more patronizing?!" Draco snapped "And what are you apologising for? It's all superfluous anyway, I mean, we aren't friends -"

"I didn't mean to say that!" Harry blurted out, then soldiered on "It was sort of true, but I've actually quite liked hanging around with you."

Draco glared at him.

"I'm sorry." Harry repeated "I know I should think before I speak sometimes. It was rude of me to say we weren't friends, and it wasn't really true because we get along well enough. I shouldn't have pushed you about Lucius either."

"No," Draco said coldly "you shouldn't."

"My aunt and uncle always talked about - " he hesitated "-gays like it was worse than being a wizard. I didn't know how to talk about it - I still don't, but I'm sorry. I have nothing against it, it's just I'm only just getting to live a normal person's life - well as normal as you are," he added wryly "and now people are going to hate me for being gay."

Draco examined Harry for a moment. He wanted a better apology than that. He wanted Harry to say he was sorry for hurting his feelings, that he'd never meant to say they weren't friends, that - argh, but Draco couldn't say all that. This was the best he was going to get. And besides, they weren't friends.

Draco felt a little sad every time he thought about that. Potter was the only one in this with him, and they did get along reasonably well when they weren't arguing. Reasonably well - that wasn't much, but there was something else too. He rubbed alongside Pansy and Blaise, and Crabbe and Goyle reasonably well too, but he never felt the need to be closer. Maybe it was because Harry already knew such a lot about him, but Draco really wouldn't have minded sharing secrets with him. He wanted to know him better.

"Well?" Harry's voice knocked him out of his reverie, and Draco focussed on his anxious face.

"When the apology gift arrives," Draco said in his snottiest voice, and trying not to smirk "I'll consider it."

He turned on his heel and left, pushing the tapestry out of the way.

"Apology gift?" Harry said blankly after him.

Draco kept walking, but allowed himself a smirk once he was looking the other way. Unfortunately, he wasn't watching where he was going, or who had just watched Harry Potter climb out of a hidden alcove with Draco Malfoy.

"What the hell Harry?" Ron's voice said in his face, as Draco tried to adjust his eyes to the sudden appearance of red hair and freckles very close to his face as he backed away.

"Er-." was all he could think of.

"What's wrong?" Hermione hurried up to them, looking from Ron to Draco in confusion. "We're going to be late for the Hallowe'en feast."

"Well?" Ron asked, his voice threatening

"What do you-" Hermione began, but Ron turned to her, his ears bright red.

"Harry just climbed out from that tunnel behind the tapesty with Malfoy, grinning!"

"Nothing happened." Draco said panicked "We were just joking around! That's all, I was happy!"

Hermione turned her all-seeing gaze on him. Stop it! Stop thinking! Draco wanted to shout

"Why would you look that happy?" Ron said, his voice threatening "You said you made up with him, but you never said he was going to be your best friend!"

"Ron, stop over-reacting." Hermione said, grabbing his arm "Harry can be friendly with people without being their best friend-"

"As long as that's all it is." Ron said, giving Draco a cold, hard stare, then turning away, pulling Hermione with him.

Draco could only stare after him in shock, as Hermione's eyes suddenly lit up with sudden knowledge.

Oh. Shit.

Ron had no idea. He was too thick to possibly consider that his friend was gay, it was more likely he thought that he was in danger of losing his place as Harry Potter's best friend to Draco Malfoy. Hermione though…

Draco was careful not to look over at Harry while he was eating. He immersed himself in the conversation Neville was having with Dean and Seamus, while he felt Hermione's eyes on him.

Please don't let her tell Ron what she suspects…

Weasley would probably confront 'Draco Malfoy' and Harry would probably flip his lid if he thought any more people 'knew' he was supposedly gay. Draco hoped Ron and Hermione weren't homophobic, because Potter had been very worried about people hating him for being gay, and now his own friends would see him as the corrupting influence…

He didn't want Potter to fall out with him,

"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision." Dumbledore said, standing up. He waved his wand and the empty dishes disappeared from the tables. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber -" he motioned to a door behind the staff table "-where they will be receiving their first instructions."

With that, Dumbledore raised his wand again, and with a sweeping motion extinguished every light in the hall, so that the only light came from the carved pumpkin heads and the electric blue fire inside the Goblet.

They sat in silence, watching the flames flicker, until finally, the fire changed colour into red, and sparks began to fly from it. In the next moment, flames shot from the rim of the cup, carrying with them, high into the air, a charred scrap of paper. The school gasped as one as it fluttered down, and Dumbledore caught hold of it, and as he cleared his throat, the room hushed dramatically.

"The champion for Durmstrang will be Victor Krum."

Draco was unsurprised at this, and clapped his hands as Krum made his way up to the staff table and into the chamber behind it. He sat up straight, watching the blue flames of the Goblet as they turned red again, and another burst of sparks and flames propelled a small square of paper into the air again.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour."

It was the tart. She got to her feet, shaking a mane of silvery hair which would have made any Malfoy female jealous, from her shoulders as she made her way to the side chamber. The males students she passed on her short walk looked almost as gormless as Weasley on an average day, which was saying something. Draco supposed she was quite pretty, but not enough to warrant that kind of reaction.

The next few moments were intense. The very air seemed rigid with excitement, and Draco could sense the entire hall holding its breath as finally the tongues of flame announced the decision of who the Hogwarts champion would be.

"The Hogwarts champion," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye as he unfolded a piece of parchment "will be … Cedric Diggory!"

There was a collective murmur of grumbles and sighs amongst the Gryffindors, but within a millisecond they were drowned out by the ferocious roar that exploded from the table beside them. Draco kept his face impassive but let out a tiny cheer inside.

Cedric Diggory was emerging from the screaming, stamping, cheering crowd of Hufflepuffs, a broad grin on his face which made Draco's heart flutter, and was making his way up to the chamber behind the staff table.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said finally, as the cheering finally died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-"

But Dumbledore had stopped speaking, and as Draco followed his gaze it was obvious what had distracted him.

The fire in the Goblet had turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. Flames shot into the air, carrying yet another piece of parchment.

Dumbledore caught the parchment, and read it. After a long pause, he looked up, locking eyes with Draco, who felt his heart contract.

"Harry Potter."

In the moments that followed, Draco could have heard a pin drop. Then an angry sort of muttering arose, starting among the Hufflepuffs, and then spreading, until he was surrounded.

His vision blurred.

This was it. He was going to die.

He felt Granger pushing him to his feet.

"I'm going to die." he whispered to her, though the muttering was louder and he was sure she couldn't have heard. It was just as well, because surely Harry Potter would have said something more sporting before engaging in an exciting tournament where lives would be risked.

Walking up through the tables to the staff table seemed to take an eternity, and he blindly followed McGonagall's directions to the room at the back of the high table.

He thankfully stumbled into the darker room, away from the staring eyes and accusative whisperings.

He saw the other champions up by the fireplace, and ducked into the shadows to think. Before he could do that however, the Tart whipped around, her eyes zeroing in on him.

"What is it?" she said "Do zey want us back in se hall?"

"Ta geule!" Draco said , sinking into the dark corner as he'd planned.

He'd barely stepped back, however, when Bagman breezed in and began to talk loudly, and Draco found himself reluctantly being dragged into the limelight.

He'd fought his way through the screaming, cheering Gryffindor crowd in the common room, hoping to find blessed silence and darkness in the dormitory. What'd he'd found, however, was a sulking Ron and a monumental argument. Not knowing how to handle it, he'd merely bleated 'but I didn't put my name in!' at Weasley, which didn't do the slightest bit of good, but he was too confused, tired and frightened to even attempt to think like Potter.

The next morning it was just as bad. There were pats on the back, hair ruffles, and more angry glares to be endured. He found Granger awaiting him outside the common room with some toast wrapped in a napkin.

"Hello." she said, holding up the toast "I brought you this…want to go for a walk?"

Anything had to be better than facing the school in the hall again, so Draco nodded, and followed her down to the entrance hall, where they walked straight past the great hall doors, and onto the grounds. It was freezing outside, but Draco found he didn't care. He accepted some toast from Hermione, and found himself staring at her for rather longer than what was polite. He couldn't see Pansy bothering with all this for him. She'd have been down in the hall with the rest, cheering - or jeering, depending on how long ago their latest fall-out had been.

"Are you okay?" Hermione said, noticing his stare, and he looked away.

"No." he answered truthfully, because he knew she wasn't just asking him that to fill an awkward silence.

"I know you didn't put your name in." she said "And don't listen to Ron. He's being silly."

"He's being an idiot." Draco said shortly "And I'm not going to bother with him. He's not worth it."

Hermione stopped and wheeled around, looking upset.

"Harry!" she said, grasping his arm "Ron's just upset! He always gets shunted to the side. I know its not your fault, but Ron's been upstaged by all his brothers, and then you, and I suppose this has just been one time too many. He's being an idiot, yes, but don't say he's not worth it! He's your best friend!"

"Didn't take much to turn him against me." Draco said darkly, not caring what Harry would think of him not even trying to repair their friendship.

"He'll come around!" Hermione said, "But promise me you won't just give up on him."

"Whatever." Draco said, mainly to shut her up.

They walked in silence for a moment.

"There was something else I meant to talk to you about," Granger said hesitantly, and Draco let her continue. "Harry," she paused, then looked him in the eye "are you gay?"

Oh no.

Well he supposed he couldn't really deny it. He was Potter now, after all. Potter was probably going to decide that he was going to 'grow' out of his gay 'phase', so Draco was hardly going to play straight for his reputation.

"What if I was?" he said slowly "Would that be a problem."

"Oh Harry of course not!" she exclaimed, turning to him, eyes shining "I'm so proud of you! I was so sure you were going to deny it - of course that's not what I wanted, it's so good to see someone just being themselves and not caring about what other people think - you know what people can be like. But that's not what it's like anymore is it? People are much more accepting in this day and age, especially in the wizarding world. You could be an icon, Harry-"

"No." Draco cut her off, hands raised "I'm not being your new SPEW project, this is my life, not a public affair! I won't be standing up for speeches about being bent in todays's magical society -"

"Sorry Harry." Hermione said, looking ashamed, though moments later there was a bright smile on her face. "I am proud of you though. Are you going to come out publicly? I suppose not." she considered his raised eyebrows "I noticed you weren't affected by Fleur Delacour-"

"Should I be? She's a slag." Draco muttered

"Language! But that's what I mean," Hermione continued "she's part Veela, no matter whether she's your type or not, if you're a straight male - but of course that's why -"

Draco listened to her rabbit on, taking another bite of his toast. How different life would be, he thought wistfully, if he'd been born into this. A life like this, where friends were - well, friendly. No matter how friendly people were in Slytherin, you couldn't trust them with personal secrets for any money.

Well he was sure the whole wizarding world would find out he was gay within months. This tournament was going to be headline news for a long time, and he'd seen how Harry's personal life had made it into the Prophet for more trivial reasons than an international competition.

He sighed. It was typical how Potter and his ridiculous theatrics had gotten him into this mess. Even when he wasn't himself, Harry had to get involved in everything even remotely dangerous, glorious and attention seeking, but this time, Draco would have to pay the price.

"-need to write to Sirius." Hermione was saying.

"What?" Draco asked

"He wouldn't want to find out about the Tournament from someone else." Hermione told him sternly. "It's important you tell him yourself. And I think you should tell him about your life choices too."

"Excuse me?"

"That you're gay." Hermione said impatiently "Harry, it'll mean a lot that you tell him yourself.."

"Right." Draco winced, knowing the general pureblood outlook on homosexuality wasn't positive. "I'll think about it."