A birthday... in the past?
Harry wasn’t sure what had woken him. Maybe it was a dream, maybe it was the lingering feeling of unease from earlier, or maybe it was just instinct. But when he sat up in his lavish bed in the Malfoys' Parisian hotel suite, he immediately noticed something was *off*.
Draco wasn’t in his bed.
That alone wasn’t unusual—Draco had a habit of sneaking off for late-night reading or a midnight snack—but something about this felt *wrong*.
Frowning, Harry slipped out from under his covers and padded toward the door. He peeked out into the hallway, expecting to see nothing but darkness. Instead, faint footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Draco.
Harry followed, keeping his steps light. The hotel was eerily quiet, the only sound being the occasional creak of the old wooden floors beneath his feet. Draco moved swiftly, his blond hair catching the dim glow of the enchanted wall sconces. He clearly didn’t want to be followed.
Which meant Harry *had* to follow him.
Draco descended a spiral staircase leading to one of the hotel's private courtyards. Harry hung back as Draco crossed the garden, heading towards a secluded alcove.
And that’s when Harry saw him.
Remus Lupin.
The man who was supposed to be their future Defense Against the Dark Arts professor stood in the moonlight, his shabby robes a stark contrast to the elegance of their surroundings. He had a calm, almost *tired* expression, but there was an intensity in his eyes as he spoke to Draco in hushed tones.
Harry strained to listen.
"—can't keep this from him forever, Draco," Lupin was saying.
Draco crossed his arms. "I *know* that. But I don’t want to drop this on him right before the school year starts."
Lupin sighed. "Harry deserves the truth. And you *know* that keeping secrets never ends well."
Harry’s breath caught in his throat.
The *truth*? What truth?
Draco ran a hand through his hair, looking *frustrated*. "Just give me a little more time, alright? He’s *happy* right now, and I don’t want to ruin that."
Lupin looked at him for a long moment before sighing. "Alright. But don’t wait too long, Draco. The past has a way of catching up to people."
Draco didn’t respond. He just nodded before turning back toward the hotel.
Harry barely had time to dart behind a column before Draco walked past him, looking deep in thought.
His heart was racing.
What were they *hiding* from him?
---
Harry had experienced a lot of strange things in his life—talking snakes, secret chambers, and soulmates included—but *this*? This was definitely a first.
He stood with Draco, Ron, Hermione, Pansy, Blaise, Nico, Will, and even Percy Jackson in the middle of a dimly lit room, staring at the swirling hourglass Narcissa Malfoy was holding.
"Mother, are you *serious*?" Draco asked, wide-eyed.
Narcissa smirked. "No, dear. I’m Narcissa."
Draco groaned while Harry and the others tried (and failed) to hold back their laughter.
Lucius stood beside her, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "You see, Harry," he drawled, "we wanted to give you a proper birthday celebration. But not just any celebration—one that would be *truly* memorable."
"A simple party wasn’t *enough*?" Harry asked, raising a brow.
Narcissa gave him a *look*. "Harry, *please*. This is *your* first proper birthday celebration with us. You deserve something *grand*."
"Besides," Draco added, slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulders, "this way, you get to celebrate *twice*. One here, and one in the past."
"Wait," Hermione cut in, her expression torn between excitement and *deep* skepticism. "You're actually suggesting we use a *Time-Turner* to go back in time to… what? When exactly?"
"The 1800s, of course," Narcissa said as if it were *obvious*.
There was a moment of silence.
"Are you *serious*?" Ron finally spluttered.
"Still *not* Sirius, dear," Narcissa quipped, smirking.
Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He *liked* Narcissa’s sense of humor.
Severus, who had been watching this entire conversation unfold with his usual unimpressed expression, sighed. "Must we do *this*?"
"Oh, lighten up, Severus," Narcissa said airily. Then her lips curled into a sly smile. "Besides, I was thinking we *could* invite someone special."
Snape’s expression didn't change much, but Harry *swore* he saw the faintest hint of color rise to his pale face.
Lucius smirked. "Ah, yes. That would be… *interesting*."
Pansy’s eyes gleamed mischievously. "Who’s this 'special someone'?"
"That’s not important," Snape said flatly. "What *is* important is that we do not alter the past."
"Oh, come now, Severus. We’ll be careful," Narcissa said with a dismissive wave. "Besides, it’s just for a birthday party."
"Yes," Snape said dryly. "*Because nothing ever goes wrong when a group of unsupervised students travel back in time.*"
"See? He *gets* it," Hermione muttered.
But Harry… well, Harry *kind of* loved this idea. A birthday party in the 1800s? How many people got to say they had *that*?
"So," he said, looking around at his friends. "Who's in?"
Ron and Hermione exchanged a *look* before sighing in unison.
"Fine," Hermione said.
"This is going to be mental," Ron muttered.
Nico and Will, who had been quiet up until now, shrugged. "Might as well," Nico said.
Will grinned. "I mean, it’s *historical*. Could be fun."
Percy crossed his arms. "If I get stuck in a Victorian-era suit, I *will* hex someone."
"Oh, *definitely* you’re getting one," Draco said, smirking.
"Fine," Percy sighed. "I’m in."
Blaise and Pansy were already grinning. "I call dibs on getting the best outfit," Pansy declared.
"Not if I get to it first," Blaise countered.
Harry turned to Narcissa. "Alright. Let’s do this."
Narcissa smiled, raising the Time-Turner. "Hold on tight, darlings. This will be *fun*."
And with that, the world spun, and Harry felt himself pulled *back*—back into the past.
---
A Birthday in the Past
The world lurched, and Harry barely had time to process what was happening before he found himself standing on solid ground again. The dizziness passed quickly, but the sight in front of him took his breath away.
They were in a grand ballroom—one unlike anything Harry had ever seen before. The chandeliers overhead glittered with hundreds of floating candles, casting golden light onto the polished marble floors. Velvet drapes framed tall windows, showing glimpses of an old, magical city outside.
“Oh,” Hermione breathed, looking around in awe. “This is—this is—”
“Spectacular,” Pansy finished for her, twirling in place. “I love this.”
“Where are we?” Ron asked, still looking slightly dizzy from the time travel.
“Paris,” Narcissa answered smoothly, adjusting her elegant, period-appropriate gown. “In the 1800s. And this”—she gestured around them—“is where your very exclusive birthday party will take place, Harry.”
Harry blinked. “You brought us to a historical wizarding gala?”
Lucius smirked. “Of course. What else would be fitting for a Malfoy-approved event?”
“I feel underdressed,” Percy muttered, eyeing the guests around them, all dressed in elaborate robes and old-fashioned finery.
“Oh, don’t worry, dear,” Narcissa said. With a flick of her wand, all of them were instantly dressed in 19th-century wizarding attire.
Harry looked down at himself and nearly gasped. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but the emerald-green embroidered coat, the silk waistcoat, and the perfectly tailored trousers made him look… well, stunning.
Then he turned to Draco.
And oh.
Draco looked unfairly good in deep blue and silver, his blond hair styled just enough to look both regal and effortlessly perfect. His sharp cheekbones were only highlighted by the warm glow of the chandeliers, and his lips—Merlin, his lips—
“Harry.”
Harry snapped out of it, realizing everyone was watching him, including Draco, who looked both amused and smug.
“Like what you see?” Draco teased.
Harry scowled, trying very hard to act normal. “Shut up.”
Draco grinned.
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Blaise muttered, elbowing Pansy, who was barely holding back laughter.
Narcissa clapped her hands. “Alright, darlings! There are important guests here, and you must behave.” She gave a pointed look at Ron and Percy. “No causing a scene.”
Ron muttered something under his breath, while Percy just crossed his arms.
“Shall we?” Lucius offered his arm to Narcissa, who took it with a smirk.
The group hesitantly followed them into the ballroom.
Dancing, Drama, and Disasters
The ball was in full swing, and Harry had to admit—it was kind of magical. Wizards and witches danced elegantly to the enchanting music, their robes swirling with every step. The air buzzed with a mixture of refined conversation and an occasional burst of laughter.
Nico and Will, to absolutely no one’s surprise, were standing near the edges of the room, watching everything with amusement.
“I’d rather fight a horde of monsters than dance,” Nico muttered.
Will laughed. “Oh, come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
Draco, of course, was flawlessly navigating the social scene, greeting people with polite nods and effortless charm. Harry, meanwhile, was doing his best not to feel completely out of place.
“Care to dance?” Draco asked suddenly, extending his hand toward Harry.
Harry froze. “What?”
Draco smirked. “Come on, Potter. It’s your birthday.”
“I—I don’t know how to dance.”
“Don’t worry.” Draco leaned in, his voice lower. “I’ll lead.”
Harry swallowed. “Alright. But if I step on your foot, it’s your fault.”
Draco laughed and pulled him onto the dance floor.
And, Merlin, dancing with Draco was something else entirely.
Draco was smooth, effortlessly guiding Harry through the steps. Their hands were clasped together, and every time Draco spun him, Harry couldn’t help but laugh—because this? This was actually fun.
Draco smiled at him, softer this time. “You’re not half bad.”
“Yeah, well,” Harry muttered, “I have a good partner.”
For a moment, they just looked at each other, the music fading into the background.
Then—
CRASH!
The entire ballroom stopped as a table collapsed on one side of the room.
They turned just in time to see Ron and Percy scrambling away from what looked like a very angry French wizard.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Draco groaned.
“What did you do?” Hermione hissed.
“It wasn’t our fault!” Ron protested.
“He started it!” Percy added, pointing at the wizard.
Lucius sighed. “Of course they did.”
Before things could escalate further, Narcissa waved her wand, restoring the fallen table, and gave the offended wizard a charming yet very pointed smile. “Gentlemen, perhaps we should enjoy the party without breaking historical artifacts?”
The wizard huffed but backed away.
Draco turned to Harry. “So much for a quiet birthday.”
Harry just laughed. “Wouldn’t be my life if it wasn’t chaotic.”
Draco smiled, and without warning, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek.
Harry froze.
“Happy birthday, mon amour,” Draco murmured before pulling away.
Harry was certain his brain had stopped functioning. His heart was racing, his face was burning, and—Draco had just called him 'my love' in French.
“Mate,” Ron whispered, nudging him. “You good?”
Harry barely managed to nod.
Yeah. Best. Birthday. Ever.
---