Harry wrestled with his dress robes, trying in vain to align the shoulder seems in a way that transformed the garment into a fashion statement over a straight jacket.
Dobby hovered around him, anxiously wringing his ears in between attempts to jump in and interfere in Harry's death match.
"Well, well," Draco drawled as he swept into Harry's bedroom, "Harry Potter, you are teetering on the edge of looking half-way respectable."
"Very funny," Harry groused, actively fighting against the temptation to rip the seams of his robes and be done with it. "I swear these things shrank and were cursed with incomprehensible pockets of wizarding space."
"Let me help you," Draco offered, gesturing to Dobby that he was dismissed. "I have a mastery in robe alignment."
Harry let out a frustrated huff, and threw himself on Draco's mercy. "Go on, then. We're not running late, are we?"
"Not yet. Don't worry about it. Harry. It is fashionable for the rich and famous to neglect punctuality. It would practically be a faux pas for one such as you to arrive to a ministry function on time."
"That's stupid."
"That's high society. The two are often indistinguishable to an outsider, but there's a difference, I promise. You can be my apprentice this evening, and I'll teach you how to survive unscathed."
Harry rolled his eyes. "You're in a mood, tonight."
Draco grinned. "A gentleman must always be either brooding and aloof, or mercurial and unpredictable. I excel at the second over the first. My father can do either. He's even managed to be both at the same time, on occasion. I've no idea how."
"A gentleman, huh? Is that what I'm pretending to be, tonight?"
"Of course! As a dashing hero and renowned celebrity, you'll either be considered an untouchable gentleman, or an exploitable servant. The ministry are a bunch of blood-thirsty savages, so you definitely don't want them thinking that they can order you around."
Harry groaned. "I don't think I can do this."
"Don't be silly," Draco said, finally unravelling the noose of Harry's robes, and tugging the seams straight. "You're my apprentice, remember? I won't throw you to the werewolves. If you get stuck, just stay quiet, and try to keep your face neutral. I'll cover for you."
"People are going to thing you're dragging around a life-sized statue of me all night."
"I am skilled at prop-based humor. Pity I've neglected my ventriloquism practice, though. I could have just spoken for you."
"I'm sure that would have turned out better."
"You're not stupid, Harry. You're competent, and friendly, and even have the occasional moment of wit. Just be yourself, and everyone will love you."
Aunt Petunia's pinched frown and Uncle Vernon's crimson quivering jowls exposed Draco's kind words for a lie. All of Harry's muggle school teachers had ignored Harry or distained him, believing Dudley's lies over Harry's stammered defence of his character. Even Professor Snape, who had been kinder and more supportive than any other adult Harry had ever known had moments of barely being able to stand Harry's presence.
The Malfoys were unfailingly nice to him, but Harry was worried that would change, if he openly spoke out against their beliefs. He had been unable to look Mr. Malfoy in the eye, ever since that fateful dinner when the man had attempted to guide Harry down his ideological path. He didn't want to lose their charity, and their warmth.
That was perhaps the scariest part of this stupid ball. It was all a political thing, wasn't it? What would Harry do, if someone asked his opinion on an issue on which he didn't know where the Malfoys stood? Or one to which he and the Malfoys were opposed?
Harry didn't want to harm his benefactors in an arena that was obviously very important to them, but he didn't want to lie, and compromise his own honor, either.
Life was complicated, too, and Harry knew enough to know that he was still very young, and very ignorant to the intricacies of morality, and to the unintended consequences of idealism put into action.
What if he accidentally endorsed something that would ruin someone's life?
Draco, and even his father, made it sound like Harry's word would hold a lot of weight on any number of topics on which he was truly unqualified to comment. Would one careless word on Harry's part condemn someone to a horrible fate? Did he really have that much power? If he did, Harry wasn't sure he wanted it.
Did that make him a coward? If he put in the effort to become informed, he could do a lot of good.
But he could do a lot of damage, too, if he ever made a mistake. He could not possibly become an expert in everything, could he?
"Harry?" Draco asked, waving his hand in front of Harry's face. "You're spiralling. Stop worrying, will you? You'll be fine. This isn't that big of a deal. Even if you take two steps into the hall and fall flat on your face, your reputation will recover. My parents and I will make sure that no one will pressure you into anything you aren't ready for. We've got your back. You trust me, don't you?"
Trust?
Did Harry trust the Malfoys? Did he trust Draco? Did he trust anybody?
"I'm trying to," he admitted softly, well aware that the truth might hurt his best friend. "Trust doesn't come naturally to me, Draco. The idea of having a friend is still new to me. It's still foreign. I'm sorry."
Draco sighed, and met Harry's eyes with an empathetic pain. "You don't need to be sorry. I forget, sometimes, that those awful muggles were all you had. I… I'm a spoiled brat, Harry. I know that. I've been told it often enough. I'm not perfect, and I might let you down some day, but I'm not going to do it on purpose, and I'm not going to betray you. I'll prove it to you, if I need to, and you can prove to me that you won't betray me, either. Fair?"
Harry nodded, but he couldn't speak. Draco was a pureblood. Harry was a half-blood. Draco was rich. Harry was poor. Or, poor compared to Draco, at the very least. The statements from his family's vault had confused him, a bit. Draco had a family to which he owed his loyalty. Harry had only his own honor. There were so many openings for betrayal, intended or otherwise.
As far as Harry could tell, Draco didn't have a single friend who was a muggleborn. That probably wasn't his fault, or a deliberate choice on his part, at least Harry hoped it wasn't, but it did leave Draco vulnerable to misconceptions. Just as Harry's lack of exposure to wizarding culture in general, and pureblood culture in particular, left him blind to many things.
Heck, even Harry did not know much about muggleborns, despite his maternal connection. Other than the stories Professor Snape had told him, and the notes an eleven-year-old Lily had left in Professor Snape's old potions book, Harry knew very little about his mom.
He glanced over at his trunk, where the letters Professor Snape had found in Harry's vault still lay, sealed and unopened.
Harry had been too afraid to open them.
He had actively avoided thinking about why that could be.
Christmas, he decided, straightening his spine. He would open the letters on Christmas Day.
No more excuses.
"…Harry?"
"Sorry, Draco. I got lost in thought. I trust you. You've given me no reason not to, and I know you're my friend. I just wish I could be Just Harry, you know?"
"Not really," Draco admitted, wryly. "I've always wanted to be special. But I believe you. I can't make you anonymous, but I'll do my best to make you sound boring and average tonight, if you want… because I'm such a good friend."
Harry rolled his eyes. "You just want my permission to brag about yourself all night."
"Well, I am pretty amazing, you have to admit. It would be a shame if the world missed out on an opportunity to know it."
"You aren't nearly as cool as you think you are."
"I am so! I don't even need The-Boy-Who-Lived as my best friend to be awesome. That's just an added perk. So, I'm going to brag about my awesome friend who is amazing at a lot of things, despite being cursed with boring averageness, and contrasting you against my innate brilliance, who has also managed to be amazing, above and beyond my natural beauty, intelligence, athleticism, charm… what am I missing?"
"Humility?"
"I've never heard that word before in my life. Father must have banned it."
"Must have," Harry drawled, unable to keep the smile off his face.
"Admit it, Harry Potter, you are lucky to be my friend."
"Never."
Admit it!"
"Not going to happen. You can't make me."
"Is that a challenge?"
"You wish."
