occlumency, animagus and nico
Harry wasn’t sure *how* this had happened. One moment, he was enjoying the post-first-task glow, Draco constantly hovering around him like an overprotective hawk, and the next—he was sitting in the Malfoy library, surrounded by a group of pure-blood Slytherins who had apparently decided that his mind needed *serious reinforcement*.
"You're an *open book*, Potter," Blaise said lazily, flipping through a rather thick tome on mental defenses. "And not even an interesting one. More like a badly written one where the protagonist dies on page three because he left all his thoughts lying around for people to see."
Harry scowled. "*Excuse* me for not being raised with a pure-blood manual on how to be all mysterious and unreadable."
Pansy smirked. "Don’t worry, Potter. *We* will train you."
Ron and Hermione were there too, although Ron looked vaguely like he wanted to bolt.
Draco rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "It’s simple. You Gryffindors have zero control over your emotions. Occlumency is about *discipline*. About keeping your mind *yours* and not letting anyone else pry into it." He gave Harry a pointed look. "*Especially* not maniacs trying to possess you."
Harry huffed. "Fine. What do I do?"
Theo Nott, who had been mostly silent, spoke up. "Close your eyes and clear your mind."
Harry did.
A second later, he got smacked on the head.
"*Ow!* What was that for?" he demanded, glaring at Pansy, who looked completely unrepentant.
"Your mind is still loud," she said. "You’re *thinking* too much."
"Well, yeah," Harry muttered. "That’s kind of how minds *work*."
Draco sighed dramatically, coming to stand behind Harry. "Okay, forget clearing your mind. You are *not* capable of that."
"Hey—"
"Instead, focus on building something. A wall, a shield, a *fortress*—whatever helps. *Visualize* it. The goal is to lock your mind down so tight that not even *I* can see inside it."
Harry frowned, closing his eyes again. A fortress. Right. He imagined Hogwarts, tall walls of stone, thick, impenetrable.
A moment passed.
"Good," Draco murmured. "Now, *hold* that image."
Harry tried—
And immediately got smacked again.
"*PANSY!*"
"You *thought* too much again," she sniffed.
Draco groaned. "*This* is going to take a while."
Harry rubbed his head, scowling. "This better be worth it."
Draco smirked. "Trust me, Potter. If you ever get good at it, you'll thank us."
---
The tension in the study room shifted when Lucius Malfoy closed his book and looked over at them, his gaze sharp with consideration. Beside him, Narcissa sipped her tea, perfectly composed as always, while Snape merely raised an unimpressed brow.
Sirius, on the other hand, grinned like he was enjoying himself far too much. "Alright, brats," he said, stretching out in his chair. "You lot have actually been doing *decently* in your studies—which is shocking, honestly—so we’ve decided to make you an offer."
Harry, who had just been suffering through another Occlumency session, blinked. "*We?*"
"Yes, *we,*" Remus said, giving Sirius a side glance. "Lucius, Severus, Narcissa, Sirius, and I have agreed that if you continue excelling in *all* your subjects, we will guide you through the process of becoming an Animagus."
There was a stunned silence.
Then—
"*WHAT?*"
Draco sat up straight, eyes wide. Hermione dropped the book she had been taking notes in, while Ron just gaped like a fish. Blaise, Theo, and Pansy exchanged glances that were somewhere between intrigued and *very* smug.
"You mean—" Harry started.
"You’ll *actually* teach us to transform?" Pansy finished, sounding half in awe and half like she was already scheming.
"Hold on," Hermione said, voice sharp with suspicion. "*That’s* incredibly advanced magic. Why would you teach *us*?"
Snape leaned back in his chair, regarding them all with an expression of vague irritation. "Because few students ever manage to reach this level of potential at your age. And despite my many, *many* complaints, you *have* been proving yourselves."
Lucius inclined his head. "Becoming an Animagus is not something we would normally encourage in students. But we recognize talent when we see it, and… well." His gaze flicked briefly to Harry. "With the way this school year is progressing, it seems wise to equip you with every advantage we can."
That caught Harry’s attention. He *knew* Lucius, Snape, and the others weren’t telling them everything. But still—
"That sounds *amazing*," Ron admitted. "What’s the catch?"
Sirius grinned. "*Good question!* You’ll have to work your *arses* off. This isn’t some overnight spell, kids. It’ll take *months* just to prepare your body for the transformation, and if you mess up, you could end up permanently stuck in some half-animal, half-human state."
"Not to mention," Remus added, "you will have to *prove* yourselves worthy. This isn’t a reward for *some* subjects—it’s for *all* of them. The moment you start slacking, the training stops."
The group exchanged uncertain glances.
Then Draco lifted his chin, smirking. "Well. If Potter can do it, I *certainly* can."
Harry huffed a laugh. "Oh, you’re *on*, Malfoy."
"Excellent," Narcissa said with a small, pleased smile. "Then your training begins soon."
---
The room was a mess of books, half-burnt parchment, and a very frustrated Ron Weasley.
“Alright,” Ron said, slamming his book shut, “I don’t know what kind of *sick, twisted* pleasure you two get out of this, but I’m telling you right now—*this* isn’t normal.”
Draco and Hermione exchanged a glance before simultaneously rolling their eyes.
“It’s *not* that complicated,” Hermione insisted. “We’re simply using sixth-year spellwork as a foundation for more advanced—”
“I—*Hermione*—we are in *fourth* year.” Ron waved his arms wildly. “What part of that suggests we should be studying *sixth-year* theory?”
Draco scoffed. “Honestly, Weasley, it’s no wonder you’re struggling. You lack *ambition*.”
Ron threw his quill at him.
Meanwhile, Harry was trying very hard to follow what Hermione and Draco were explaining, but it was *painful.* Ancient Runes, Arithmancy equations, spell mechanics so convoluted they made his head spin. He had the basics down—sure—but at some point, Hermione started talking about magical energy conversion rates, and Draco went off on a tangent about wand-core resonance, and now Harry wasn’t sure if they were still discussing spells or had moved on to theoretical physics.
Nico, who had been listening quietly, leaned over and whispered to Harry, “Do *you* understand anything they’re saying?”
Harry shook his head. “Not even a little.”
Will Solace, sitting on Nico’s other side, raised a hand. “I think I got, like, three words.”
Pansy snorted. “I tuned them out ten minutes ago. Malfoy starts talking *theory*, and I know I’m better off saving my brain cells.”
Blaise, lounging on a nearby sofa, smirked. “It’s fascinating how *both* of them are like this. They should just date each other.”
That got a reaction.
Draco snapped his head toward Blaise, looking downright *offended*. “Excuse me?”
Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Absolutely not.”
Harry frowned, suddenly feeling a little *too* alert.
Blaise grinned. “Oh, come on. You both have an unhealthy obsession with studying, you argue about academic theories for *fun*, and honestly, you’re both equally insufferable when you’re right.”
Draco *looked* like he wanted to hex Blaise on the spot. “First of all, I’m dating *Harry*, not Granger. And second of all, I—” He huffed. “I wouldn’t date her if she were the *last*—”
Hermione cut him off. “The feeling is *entirely* mutual, Malfoy.”
Ron looked a little too smug. “Glad *someone* finally said it.”
Harry, meanwhile, was still stuck on *Draco’s immediate defense*. It was stupid—he *knew* Draco loved him—but hearing Draco so quickly reaffirm it made something warm settle in his chest.
Draco turned back to Hermione. “Now, if we’re *done* with ridiculous accusations, I’d like to continue before I lose brain cells listening to Weasley complain.”
“Oi!”
Draco ignored him.
Harry leaned in slightly, resting his chin on Draco’s shoulder. “You know, you’re really hot when you’re annoyed.”
Draco turned pink. “Oh, *shut up*, Potter.”
Harry grinned.
At least if he wasn’t understanding anything, he could *still* enjoy the view.
---
Harry should’ve known something was up the second Snape called him to his office.
Draco, ever the concerned boyfriend, tried to follow, but Snape fixed him with a look that sent even him hesitating.
“I’ll be fine, Draco,” Harry assured, squeezing his hand before following Snape down the corridor.
Draco still looked skeptical but didn’t argue—probably because Snape would hex him if he tried.
Once they reached the office, Snape didn’t waste time. He folded his arms, fixing Harry with a pointed stare.
“The Yule Ball.”
Harry blinked. “What?”
Snape sighed like this was already exhausting for him. “The Triwizard Tournament includes a traditional Yule Ball, which is a formal event. As a champion, you are required to attend and required to bring a date.”
Harry stared at him. “...A date?”
“Yes, Potter,” Snape drawled. “Typically someone you dance with.”
Harry’s brain blanked. The words "formal" and "dance" did not belong in the same sentence as him.
Snape raised an eyebrow at his silence. “Surely, you are not so dense that this is surprising.”
“No, no, I—” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I just—Wait, you’re telling me this? Not McGonagall?”
Snape sneered. “If you must know, I volunteered.”
Harry frowned. “Why?”
Snape’s expression was unreadable for a moment before he muttered, “Because I know you will attempt to avoid this, and I refuse to deal with the catastrophe that would inevitably follow.”
Harry crossed his arms. “That’s not—”
“It is exactly the case, Potter.” Snape gave him an unimpressed look. “Now, I assume you’ll be taking Mr. Malfoy?”
Harry flushed. “I—I mean, obviously, but—”
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “Spare me your teenage dramatics and ask him before some idiotic girl tries.”
Harry scowled. “I am going to ask him.”
“Then do so before I have to watch him sulk because you waited too long.”
Harry paused. That… was actually fair.
Snape gave him a final look, as if already regretting this conversation. “You are dismissed.”
Harry didn’t need to be told twice.
He had a boyfriend to ask to the ball.
---
Harry found Draco in the library, sitting across from Hermione, the two of them deep in discussion over some ridiculously advanced theory. Draco had his reading glasses on, his quill twirling between his fingers as he debated some Ancient Runes nonsense with Hermione.
Harry stopped for a second, taking in the sight—Draco, completely in his element, soft golden light from the library windows casting a glow on his pale hair, the edges still dyed that icy blue that Harry had grown very fond of. His lips were slightly pursed in thought, and Harry’s stomach did that stupid flipping thing again.
He was so gone.
Unfortunately, before he could fully appreciate his boyfriend, Ron noticed him.
“Oi, Harry!” Ron called out, earning a loud shh from Madam Pince. He winced. “Oops.”
Draco looked up at the noise, his silver eyes immediately locking onto Harry’s. His lips curled into a small smirk. “Potter,” he drawled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Come to steal me away from my studies?”
Harry grinned, dropping into the seat next to him. “Tempting, but no. I actually have a question.”
Draco arched an eyebrow. “Well, go on, then.”
Harry scratched the back of his neck. “So, um, the Yule Ball.”
Draco stared at him. “…Yes?”
“I, uh.” Harry cleared his throat. Why was he nervous? This was Draco. His boyfriend. He could do this. “You wanna go with me?”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Draco blinked.
And blinked again.
And then—
“You idiot,” Draco scoffed, closing his book with a loud snap. “Of course I’m going with you! Who else would I go with, Theodore bloody Nott?”
Harry relaxed, a grin spreading across his face. “Just making sure.”
Draco rolled his eyes but leaned in slightly. “Honestly, you’re lucky you’re cute.”
Harry beamed. “You think I’m cute?”
Draco sighed dramatically, but there was a tiny smile on his lips. “Infuriatingly so.”
Ron groaned from across the table. “Merlin, can you not flirt while we’re right here?”
Hermione sighed but had an amused glint in her eyes. “Honestly, Ron, as if you don’t watch them do this every day.”
Draco smirked. “Exactly. You should be used to it by now.”
Ron muttered something about "unfair couples" under his breath while Harry just grinned, reaching out to take Draco’s hand under the table.
Yule Ball date? Secured.