Hobbies
Sunday
Draco arrived early to the theater this time but still ended up sitting on his own. He’d chosen out a nice bundle of pillows to sit in, right in the middle of the first row. Somehow all the pillows had been used up, only by having been pulled into other people’s groups.
No matter. No matter at all.
Everyone hushed when the room dimmed and then there is was again, the romantic theme music over an establishing shot of the castle and Harry’s brilliant smile. The music continued this time for a quick recap of the last episode’s highlights. Draco was just a blip at the end when he received the final rose.
The actual story started with a video of all the contestants leaving the Rose Ceremony and a few voice overs about how intense that first day was. Then establishing shots the next morning before everyone took the portkey to the castle. There was sweeping music while the castle was shown from all angles, establishing shots being paired with the contestants’ tour. Voice over highlighted different first impressions, all of them overwhelmingly positive and amazed.
You hardly would have known Draco was there from how little screen time he had.
Lee gave a whole speech on how this week would give Harry a chance to get to know each of the contestants, and the contestants the chance to make friends with the people who’d be their housemates for the next twelve weeks. Cut to Lee and Harry in the Interview Room together, where Lee asked Harry what he hoped to get out of this week. The camera zoomed in on a relaxed looking Harry telling Lee (apparently Harry didn’t have to always look into the camera) how important it was to him to find a match he could make a deep connection with.
Cue games. Lots of games. Draco made the mistake of being thankful his awkwardness from Monday didn’t make the screen, right up until they showed him losing a round to Marcus and then the voiceover of him from his confessional: “My biggest competition is definitely Marcus. You know who he is, right? He’s a chaser for the Wimbourne Wasps. He played in the world cup last year. Harry’s going to fall head over heels for him.” The screen cut to Draco and his conspiratorial smile. “That is, unless Harry falls for me first.”
It was a serious change in tone for the episode that had previously been bubbly attractive people making friends. They’d even cut out Draco complimenting Marcus’s looks, which Draco didn’t know if he preferred or not. Either way he came across as shallow. Draco tried to console himself to how other people’s confessionals also overlaid over their own game play. He also know that everyone watched the episodes each week to heighten tension and drama. It was important to keep perspective, but that didn’t stop him from chewing nervously on his lower lip and wondering if the audience would hate him.
He had hope that for Tuesday he’d come across better. He had, afterall, come in third in the competition.
No. Oh, no. The morning establishing shots were of multiple people refusing to talk to him or straight up walking away when he approached. The soft rolling music couldn’t mask how uncomfortable he looked every time. He was hardly a blip in the game. He was so far to the side that most shots actually cut him out entirely. The majority of the screen time was given to Susan and Silas’ epic battle for first place.
Right after the victory celebration Draco’s voice came on again. “Wasn’t it really weird how they knew so much about Harry?” The audience could hear Draco asking. “It’s creepy. Give the man some privacy.” Draco hoped the cameras in the room couldn’t see in the dark because his face was bright red.
It got worse. Susan’s voice came on screen over a picture of her shaking Draco’s hand when he’d congratulated her on winning. “I remember when Draco used to dress up as a Dementor to scare Harry. It was so heartless of him, to bring that up again.”
Draco tried to sink into the pillows and vanish.
Watching the rest of the episode was suddenly a slog. Draco felt horrible seeing Harry and Susan’s one-on-one candlelight dinner. It was so much more romantic than a walk around a lake, and he wondered if Harry actually did have a say in what dates they sent him on. Maybe he’d told them he didn’t want that intimacy with Draco.
Wednesday was Draco’s big day, and they finally gave him screen time, even if it included everyone refusing to talk to him again and the moment when Maurice refused to help when baking for the picnics. It was a relief when they edited around the cold shoulder Harry gave him at the actual meal. Fortunately they did include the blissed out look Harry made when trying the tart. Pair that with the moan over the rolls and Draco anticipated unfortunate articles in Harry’s future that used too many sexual innuendos when discussing his love of baked goods.
The television gods made the date Draco won look romantic. It was mostly shots of the two men walking close together. They included the moment Draco nudged Harry’s shoulder, and that one time Harry threw his head back and laughed. “Cross my heart” made it in, and, while a clever watcher might tell from the background it was a while later, they edited it to look like Harry never had any qualms with telling Draco his secrets.
Draco was a blip in the rest of the episode. Thursday focused on things like Jett’s oddly proportioned painting of Harry and his anatomy, or Rene’s paint and sip night with Harry after she won her contest. Friday was about Roshni’s love poem followed by a one-on-one trip to an indie bookstore where Harry purchased her one of his favorite books (not seen on camera), and Silas’s harsh words in the confessional saying how disappointed they were in themself because they’re a professional songwriter and thought what they’d written for Harry was really beautiful. The only Interview Room content they had time to show was a massive blow up between Harry and Jett after Harry blandly read off a card, “Your painting appeared more sexual in nature than the other contestants’, are you sure you’re here for the right reasons?”
Yeah, so obviously Jett went home. If only the producers hadn’t stirred up so much drama to leave in his wake.
Monday
9:00 am: meet in the great hall for a group date.
Then, in Pansy’s messy script, “Dress sporty and have a hearty breakfast.”
What the fuck was sporty? Was it a fashion thing? Then Draco remembered that Pansy had never played sports and she might just think that's what athletic gear was called. Draco didn’t have exercise gear. He had clothes that got dirty when he worked in them, and clothes that got dirty when he sorted through dusty antiques in them. Draco supposed the former would be better for this activity and managed a respectable enough outfit that he could definitely run in if necessary.
Draco’s first thought when he saw everyone was he definitely misunderstood the memo. Everyone, absolutely everyone, had dressed up for this date. Jessie was wearing a mini dress, for Merlin’s sake.
Then Lee and Harry walked in side by side, each wearing entire quidditch uniforms with the show logo etched out across their chests.
“Good morning, Darlings!” Lee greeted with his signature flair. “This week is all about sharing your hobbies with your future husband, so what better way to kick it off by sharing in his most famous hobby of all? Say it with me now,” pause for everyone to shout “quidditch!”
“You’d think Harry chose this, but no sir, that honor was all mine. You may be flying, but I’ll be announcing the game for our audience at home. I won the golden broomstick five years for my skills behind the microphone.” He grinned at the camera. “You’re welcome.” Pause for laughter and applause.
Lee was all business when he returned his attention to the contestants. “Last night we took a secret audience poll to let our fans tell us who their top contender is to win Harry’s heart. This person will have the honor of championing the team opposing Harry.” He glanced at his friend. “You ready to find out who the fans are shipping you with?” It would be hard to call Harry’s strained chuckles a laugh, but maybe they could edit it to look jovial. “The one, the only, the superstar themself, Silas!”
The camera caught Silas’s shock from every angle, and the splattering of cheers as well as jealous expressions from their peers. Silas made their way up to the front of the room and accepted a black jersey to put on over their stylized jumpsuit. Draco suddenly wondered how far out on a limb Pansy went to give him her tip, so that he wouldn’t show up as impractically dressed as too many other people.
“Silas, you won the popular vote, but we all want to know who Harry would pick for his own team,” pause for Lee’s exaggerated wink, “so Harry starts each selection round. Your time to shine, Harry. Who will you invite to join your quidditch team?”
This was the first Harry had to speak since walking into the room and it was just now becoming apparent how awkward he looked in the marketed gear. It was clearly customer tailored for him, but he stood stiff and uncomfortable even as he surveyed all of the contestants thoughtfully before speaking. Draco pictured him back at home with his friends, likely in years old, well-loved gear that the new stuff simply couldn't compete with.
“One day I’d love to fly with Marcus,” Harry actually blushed as he spoke, “but it wouldn’t be fair to have us on the same team. So my pick today is Roshni.” Draco didn’t know if Roshni had secret quidditch skills Harry had discovered, or if Harry just liked his one-on-one date with her best.
Silas was all broad smiles as they surveyed the remaining contestants. There was no sign they might have been upset over Harry getting to show affection for other people. In fact, they smirked at Harry playfully before they chose. “I can tell you want to go head to head with him, so I choose Marcus!” Draco’s jaw was aching from how much time he now had to spend smiling along to his fake applause.
Draco was nervous and excited about the selection. He was no quidditch pro like Marcus, but he’d flown well in school and his day to day duties kept him flying around Wiltshire. He’d be an asset for whoever picked him. He tried to stand up straight and look eager and appealing.
With no small amount of fanfare, the selection heated up. Harry chose Maurice. Silas chose Sol. Harry chose Rene. Silas chose Everett. Harry chose Susan. Silas chose Otis. Each selection slightly more tense than the last. Each remaining contestant realizing over and over that they were the ones not wanted for a team.
Then there were only two choices left. Draco’s hands were fidgeting behind his back again the way they did when he didn’t want anyone to see his nerves. He remembered how that hadn’t stopped the cameras from catching it and then twisted his hands together tight. He tried not to make huge puppy eyes at Harry. Wouldn’t it be nice if they finally had a chance to play on the same team? Was it only Draco who thought that?
Harry didn’t really look happy with having to pick someone, but he did it anyway. “Jessie,” he decided.
Draco… tried very hard not to react. His fingers were all twisted together and a pained smile was plastered to his face.
It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t. He wasn’t trying to actually win this, anyway.
“Draco, get on over here and take a jersey!” Silas was a pro at sounding chipper. They even hugged Draco when they handed him his gear, as if they were happy it was Draco on their team.
Draco kind of hated feeling pitied, but also he didn’t remember the last time someone had hugged him. Maybe Pansy, six years ago when his mother died? Pansy didn’t really like touching people. It didn’t make her feel good the way it did for Draco. Which was probably why Draco accepted Silas’s squeeze as desperately as he’d accepted every small touch from Harry the week before.
Each team got their own portkey to the quidditch pitch they’d be using, each landing in their own locker room. Draco saw the green tape on the walls and around the doorframe, marking the changing room as a no camera zone. PAs were on the contestants in an instant, handing quidditch kits to each player. Draco’s had his name written on the top, and inside was gear that fit him perfectly. He noticed it didn’t have an outfit to wear under the various protection equipment, so the contestants would have to fly with the jersey over their date clothes. This show did love its drama.
Team captain Silas was adjusting their jumpsuit while reading off an extra instruction card. He couldn’t say for sure, but he thought he saw their expression darken for a moment when they looked up at Marcus. Then the smile was back, cheerful and encouraging. “Harry’s going to want a good game, so Marcus you better take Seeker.” Marcus, already well on his way to being dressed for the game nodded his enthusiasm. “What other skills do we got?” Most of the group had at least played quidditch in school, and Silas fit folks in where they’d have half a chance to do good. Otis was the beater (they had just one with only six players). Everett had been team captain in school and was put on Keeper. That left Sol, Silas, and Draco to play chasers.
Silas made everyone gather together before leaving the room so they could say how much they believed in everyone and wish them a good game. They thanked everyone for being good sports about being chosen for their team instead of Harry’s. Draco might have questioned the sincerity, but there weren’t any cameras watching.
He felt an odd twist in his gut.
Draco tried to stop Silas before they left the locker room, they didn’t look so much frustrated as impatient to get out on the pitch. Still, Draco had something to say he didn’t want on camera. “I’m sorry about what I said in the confessional.”
Silas paused as if they didn’t remember what he was talking about. Then it clicked and they were all smiles. “It’s just TV, Draco.”
“I said nice things about you,” Draco insisted. “They just didn’t show those. I didn’t mean that I thought you were creepy.”
Silas patted his shoulder gently. It might have been condescending, but Draco hoped not. “It’s just part of the business. They’ll do anything to stir things up between us. Don’t let it get to you.”
Draco wanted to fidget at Silas’ complete dismissal of his concerns, but it also wasn’t for him to them they were wrong. “Alright. I’ll try to do better, though.”
Silas’ laugh sounded more real than their smile looked. They shook their head at Draco and motioned for him to follow them out.
There was a whole production of either team walking out onto the quidditch pitch. Harry and Silas shook hands while Lee encouraged everyone to have a good game. Lee pulled out the Quaffle, bludger and snitch, and theatrically tossed each one into the sky as he announced, “Take off!”
Draco launched himself upward. He wasn’t as fast as Marcus, or even Otis, but he could hold his own on a broomstick. They’d all been given Cleansweep 13s to fly, which had thicker handles than Draco was used to, but amazing maneuverability.
Maurice reached the quaffle first. Draco watched the red of Maurice’s jersey dart past, and Draco had to pull up hard on his broom to get it to change course 180 degrees to chase after the other player. Draco molded himself to his broom, putting all his focus on building speed to catch up to the action. Perhaps it was his Seeker ability to take off like a rocket that did it for him, certainly Maurice didn’t see Draco coming when the other man tossed the quaffle towards Rene in the hope she’d catch it and have an easy score while Everett was guarding the wrong ring. Draco zipped between the two red players to intercept the quaffle, then twist hard down and around to zip back towards the other side of the field.
There was no audience to cheer Draco on, which had always inspired Draco to fly harder in a game, but he could hear Lee’s excited announcing over the loudspeaker and he took heart that his play might be showcased on television next Sunday. There was no one to guard Draco as he shot towards the red team’s goal, and he considered taking a direct shot and hoping Susan wasn’t that great of a keeper. Thank goodness he waited a second longer to consider, because it gave him time to see the bludger coming and change direction yet again to dive out of the way. By the time he recovered Marcus had caught back up to Draco and there wasn’t a clear shot. Draco looked around for support. Rene was tight on Sol, making any pass to Sol risky, but Silas was wide open, with Jessie struggling with basic broom skills. Draco wanted to be the hero and get the glory of scoring a goal, but the smarter move was tossing it to Silas.
Except Silas completely flubbed it. Draco threw the ball straight to them, and it went straight through Silas’ hands and out into open air.
Rene made the recovery, and the whole thing started again.
It was one of the most frustrating games of Draco’s life. Not because the two teams were fairly evenly matched, but because everyone on the red team realized Draco was actually good at quidditch and took to overcompensating against him so that every time he got the ball he was shut out from having the chance to make a solid play. Over and over again, Roshni slammed the bludger towards him, to the point where Draco was afraid to move too quickly lest he not pay attention to an incoming threat. Otis had good aim and a solid strike, but he lacked the killer instinct of a truly talented beater and hardly ever actually hit the ball. Susan was actually a pretty terrible keeper, but Sol and Silas were the only ones who ever had a chance at a decent throw, and Silas was the worst quidditch player Draco had ever played with.
Draco just wanted one spectacular moment to show off his broom skills in a way that would definitely make it into the episode. He was pulling out all the stops he knew. Triple twists, the Kestrel Loop, he and Sol even got on the same page to attempt a Parkin's Pincer. Draco could hear Lee calling out the moves with excitement like this was back in Hogwarts and Draco was on the Gryffindor team Lee had always been overly partial to.
Draco’s big break came when Otis finally got a solid swing at the bludger, whacking it at Rene and making her drop the quaffle. Draco dived hard and fast to snatch it out of the air. He twirled his broom sideways to avoid Jessie, who was just there because she struggled to maintain elevation, and then shot back upwards at breakneck speed. He could see Maruice on his tail, doing his best to catch up to Draco and knock into the back of Draco’s broom to throw him off course. Draco flattened himself to his broom and gave it everything he had to stay just far enough ahead that he’d reach the goal in time to…
A shrill piercing whistle sounded from the stands to announce the snitch had been caught. Draco whipped his broom sideways to slam it to a stop. The score board blazed with the final score: Silas 50, Harry 230.
Draco’s heart sank. He hadn’t scored a single goal in the game.
On the way back to the changing rooms Draco was surprised to see Lee fall into step besides him. “That was some good flying today, Draco.”
Draco looked around to see the cameras that must be capturing this moment, but nothing was focused in on him. “Thanks?” he said uncertainly.
“Are you still playing?” Lee asked conversationally. He couldn’t miss Draco’s confused nerves at being addressed directly for the first time from the shows’ host. “I’m just wondering, because you didn’t put that on your application.”
The show's application had been long and extensive, asking for every detail of Draco’s life in triplicate. Draco shrugged bashfully. “I just fly sometimes. You know, around.”
Lee nodded as if that was an acceptable answer. “Do you ever practice with the snitch?”
For all Lee’s nonchalance it felt like he was trying to get somewhere with the questioning. “Not really,” Draco said instead of “Who has the time for that.”
“That’s a shame. It could have been a good visual, you and Harry going head to head on your next date.”
“Date?” Draco squeaked. “When would I be getting another date?”
Lee laughed that off. “Who knows. Harry’ll get to choose who he takes out one-on-one from here on out. My job is to make sure it captivates the audience.”
“Oh.” Draco told himself he didn’t sound disappointed.
Tuesday
Harry decided his one-on-one date would be with Marcus, and everyone tried not to look jealous about it.
Wednesday
The castle had this ginormous library that contestants weren’t regularly allowed into, but it was determined to be the perfect backdrop for the day’s challenge. This was another one of the show’s contrived ways for Harry to “get to know” everyone and to “learn if their hobbies were compatible.” Draco realized as he was scratching out yet another outline for a presentation that most of these activities were designed specifically to embarrass the participants.
Draco was so on edge it was relieving to hear Pansy’s scornful voice say, “You used to be such a swot, Draco. How do you have nothing together?”
Draco put down his quill and parchment and didn’t bother hiding the desperation he felt inside. “I have to find something likable!” he complained.
“It’s a five minute presentation, not a campaign speech.” Pansy pulled yet another roll of paper from her cleavage. Draco suspected she had a spell to hide a pocket in there. “Let’s just take the least worst thing from your application. You can hardly fuck that up.”
There was something terribly reassuring about Pansy treating one of the show’s activities as if it were beneath her. There was hardly anything to do in the castle but be ignored by fellow contestants and wait for embarrassing activities to start. It made each of these events feel extremely important.
Almost as important as his brief moments when he actually got to talk to Harry.
“Archiving?” Pansy asked.
Draco looked down at his hands. “That’s about family history. I don’t want to…” he didn’t have to finish saying what a bad idea bringing up his family was.
Pansy pursed her lips. “You already showed him baking,” the rules were you couldn’t present on something Harry already knew about you. “Foraging?”
“That’s more of a job than a hobby…”
“You’re unemployed, dear,” Pansy murmured before licking a finger to help her turn the page. Draco looked around the room to see other PAs supporting their contestants. The other contestants all looked more encouraged by the support than Draco felt. “Oooh, your family’s elf head collection.”
“Pansy,” Draco said darkly.
Pansy gave him a look. “You already told him about the peacocks. It’s not like you have that much going on in your life.”
“Last summer I transfigured two thousand rocks into shingles to replace the east roof,” Draco offered.
Pansy rolled her eyes so hard it may have hurt. “Now, that’s a job,” she scolded. “Why don’t you tell them the wonders of replacing rotten wood after your plumbing broke. It’ll be riveting.”
Draco slumped down onto the table. “Will that make me look friendly?” Draco asked. “The last episode…” he wasn’t exactly sure how to say it. Pansy hadn’t brought it up in any of the confessionals since the episode aired.
Pansy looked surreptitiously to the left and then the right. She didn’t see anyone listening, and the cameras had backed off because as far as the audience knew the PAs were never around. She made sure to lean in close to Draco before she said, “It’s not the worst thing, Draco, if they make you look like a villain.”
Draco yanked away from her like her words burned. How could she say that! He was so flustered he picked up the quill just to have something to fidget with.
Pansy spoke even softer. “Everyone would want you for interviews, and it’s not like you’re actually here for…” a gong rang and all the PAs began to get up. Pansy gripped Draco’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Just think about it.” That was more affection than Pansy almost ever gave so Draco knew she was serious.
Draco was left with an empty pad of paper and no good ideas. Pansy was right that it really wasn’t so hard to talk about some part of his life for 5 minutes, if he wasn’t actually here to win. His stomach twisted at the notion. He didn’t have a chance to win. Harry hadn’t even been willing to choose him for a quidditch team. The producers had chosen to highlight him as socially awkward and catty. It was possible they’d just look for the worst part of his presentation to further the narrative they wanted. Double likely if he was boring.
It’s not that Draco needed to win. So what if Harry didn’t want him on his quidditch team. So what if he left this show and everyone saw him as a villain. He didn’t need their approval.
He didn’t.
He absolutely didn’t.
He just… well, Merlin. He couldn’t let himself go out their and be boring. He was a Malfoy, damnit. Damnit all to hell.
-
The applause for Rene’s presentation on crocheted action figures was actually enthusiastic. She had full on captured the quirky humor Draco himself had hoped, and so far failed, to achieve. Her visual aides of actual photos from displays in her classroom were charming and… well, Harry still had a dopey grin on his face and Draco could totally see him falling in love with her.
Of course that was the act Draco had to follow.
Draco clutched his note cards close to his chest as he walked to the front of the theater. Draco had never been one to have stage fright, unless you counted performance anxiety infront of the Dark Lord when ordered to torture muggle sympathizers. However, standing in front of a room of people he was in competition with to win the heart of Harry Potter… that was rapidly rising in experiences that could put him on edge. He hoped the cameras didn’t pick up the sound he made when he cleared his throat, or the sound of the audience member who snickered.
The trick was confidence. Smile confidently and it would all be fine. Draco hit a button on the clicky thing a PA gave him, and just like that the screen came to life. Muggle electricity magic.
The image on the screen was green haze with a single word written in jagged font: “CURSES.” There was a harsh hiss of air from the audience. Draco hit the clicky thing again and a subtitle popped up in much more basic letters: “are bad.” A pause, then several people in the room actually laughed.
This time Draco’s smile was genuine. He thrived on positive attention. He hit the button again to display a large tome and started talking. “The historian Bathilda Bagshot recorded seven hundred seventy seven types of curses in her book, Septim Magica. That, of course, is an incomplete record” he clicked the button again and a red cross fell over the cover of the book “but the seven categories Bathilda identified are still the basis of most modern curse breaking curriculum.”
Draco had a clear view of Harry, who was sitting right in the middle of the first row. He’d tilted his head to the side and was watching Draco with that “what are you up to” look that was so familiar.
Draco stood up straighter and hit the button again. “Blood curses!” came on the screen in a font that Pansy assured him was not offensive to vampires. The subheader was: “Also bad.” Then a tertiary header added: “But fun to break.”
“In this presentation I will walk you through the seven steps of Grilco Wuthering’s counter to blood curses, as highlighted in chapter ninety one in Septim Magica. Step one.” Draco clicked the button and the words “DON’T PANIC!” were splayed across the screen. There were more chuckles, if a little confused.
“I admit, it’s a bit terrifying when you’re sorting through old boxes in the basement and you accidentally touch a cursed candlestick with something nasty on it. The good news is that most of the really strong magics that last for generations came from the sacred 28, and I know what you’re thinking. Aren’t all of our families interrelated a bit more than we should be?” this laugh might have been a chortle, and you could tell they weren’t sure they should even be laughing. “That’s right, we are. So usually I have three to five minutes to figure out which of my ancestors is trying to murder me before, in the best case scenario, I violently explode. Don’t ask for the worst case, it is disturbing.”
“Step 2! Investigate. I personally like a good old fashion Appare Vestigium, which should work if you have foundational knowledge of what each family’s magic feels like. Step 3…” this part might have gotten a bit technical, but Pansy had used the second fifteen minute consultation section to liven it up by splicing in silly pictures and outrageous fonts.
There was the occasional buzz from the audience as other contestants leaned over and whispered to each other about Draco’s chosen content. Not to mention the harsh gasp when Draco admitted step 4 required the use of his own blood. Any practiced curse breaker would know it was a dissolving agent, not dark magic, and he powered through that explanation quickly in the hopes no one would have time to dwell. Draco kept peeking at Harry’s reactions, especially when most everyone else laughed. Harry never did. His eyebrows just got all furrowed and bushy. Maybe Draco should have talked about his adventures in plumbing instead.
“And then you get to step 7 - which Grilco absolutely swore by.” Draco was excited to be on the last step with the end nearly in sight. He clicked the button again, but instead of the picture he and Pansy agreed on, it was an actual image of a childhood Draco drooling while asleep in the Slytherin common room. When the fuck did Pansy even take that? Draco slammed on the button again to move past it even as everyone roared with laughter. The next photo was arguably better, even if the blurry image of a naked person dancing could possibly have resembled Draco. Circe’s tits. “Grilco recommended sleeping the effects of the ritual off. However, in Bathilda’s second book on curse breaking, she makes the case to embrace its restorative properties.” Draco tried to look knowingly at the camera, because somewhere out there a cursebreaker would know why Balthilda’s turn of phrase was funny. A final push of the button, and the screen showed a low resolution burst of confetti followed by the words “The End”.
The applause was scattered, but Draco had no doubt he’d made an impression. Pansy, at least, would be happy.
Thursday
Harry selected Rene for a one-on-one date. Draco whittled away the hours with all the other definitely not jealous contestants who tried to follow one of Rene’s crochet patterns supposedly as a team building exercise. Definitely not because they all wanted to be cute and quirky, too.
He tried not to do anything untoward on camera, which included avoiding all of Otis’ questions about what sort of items Draco found in Malfoy Manor. They were a little too pointed, a little too in the know. He spent the entire day panicking that the producers would cut the episode to make it look like Draco was still a dark wizard Death Eater and then everyone would hate him.
Friday
Roshni was the first to be selected for a second one-on-one date with Harry. It soured the mood in the house for everyone who hadn’t even had their first. PAs started requiring contestants spend more time in the confessional.
“I’m still so thankful to have this chance with Harry,” Draco said. “I just didn’t realize it would be so hard to watch how he connected with all the other contestants.”
“Are you afraid you won’t have enough time to make a strong connection?” Pansy asked. Draco knew she was doing her job but he kind of hated her for it.
“I’ve decided to have faith that I’m the one for Harry. I know if I keep doing my best it’ll be enough.”
Pansy paused for a very long time after he said that. Draco looked away from the camera to look at her instead. There was a crease in the middle of her brow that Draco knew she tried to hide with special potions. She shook out of it and read the next question off her paper. “Which of the contestants are you worried Harry is paying more attention to?”
He’d been careful all week with what he said in the confessional, so they couldn’t use them to paint him as antagonistic. “I’m glad Harry is exploring all the relationships here at the castle. Choosing your life partner is as serious as it gets, and watching his commitment just shows what a wonderful husband he’ll make.”
“You know you can’t leave until you say something catty?” There was Pansy, always calling Draco out on his bullshit.
Draco sighed and slumped in his chair. He didn’t want the producers to air him being catty again. He didn’t want to be cast as the villain. “It’s just that Rene is so likable. Did you see Harry smiling at her after her presentation?” Draco was twisting his fingers together again. “I wish I could do just one thing that had him smile at me that way.”
Pansy slumped and leaned against a wall. “You’re such a sad sack,” she lamented. It was, unfortunately, true.
Saturday
“That was an unorthodox presentation,” Harry read off of one of his little cards.
Draco wiggled in his seat uncomfortably. Was unorthodox code for villainous?
He hadn’t been confident at all walking in this week. He’d realized this would be his first time actually talking to Harry since the last Rose Ceremony and it felt like he was out of chances to… well. It was important to remember he wasn’t actually here to win this.
He still… well… this may be his only opportunity to even attempt to build a connection with…
“Is there a question in there somewhere?” Draco asked because he had to say something if he was going to get on TV and be seen by the audience. That was what was important, making the audience like and remember him.
Harry had his investigation face on when he looked up from the cards. “Why did you choose to talk about curse breaking?” he sounded interested, but not in a good way.
Draco huddled in on himself and regretted pushing the conversation forward. He’d actually prepared for this question, but he didn’t now how to say the scripted words about his commitment to doing good and righting past wrongs with anything like conviction. “I guess I just wanted to stand out,” Draco said glumly, staring down in embarrassment of his own neediness.
“You definitely stood out,” Harry remarked before flipping to another card. He read the question with a frown then put the cards aside. Draco looked up, hoping for a moment like last week where he thought he and Harry had connected. “When did you learn about blood curses?” Nope. Not connection. An interrogation.
Draco tried to laugh it off but it came out squeaky. “Can’t say I’m proficient in blood curses.” He shut his mouth lest he feel compelled to explain how he’d definitely had the chance to study them under his aunt’s tutelage but was preoccupied learning how to fix a very specific cabinet.
Harry shifted in his seat, not so much getting more comfortable as getting more imposing. “I meant breaking blood curses. That’s quite advanced stuff. They don’t teach a lick of it to aurors unless you go in for a specialization.”
“Oh,” Draco said as if he understood what Harry was asking about. “I guess I just researched it when the need came up.”
“On your own?” Harry actually sounded incredulous.
Draco found himself fidgeting again. “I suppose, although I always consider my library a collection of resources provided by melinia of…” wait, Draco wasn’t to talk about his family. “You could call it on my own.”
Harry let out a gush of air. “You know that’s, like, really dangerous?” He asked. “Curse breaking is no joke. Books like to make it sound easy, but without rigorous training you might overlook a key component and then… bam.”
“Bam?” Draco questioned.
Harry looked lost for a moment as he considered what he said. He settled for repeating, “It’s dangerous.”
Draco took in Harry’s serious, earnest face, with its bushy furrowing brows and the strangest realization struck him. “You’re worried about me?”
Harry turned bright red. “I’d be worried about anyone meddling in magic without proper training.”
A slow, broad grin spread over Draco’s face. It was like sunshine coming out from behind a cloud after a particularly dreary week. “You are so sweet. I suppose if you’re concerned for my safety I can go through the formal training to put your mind at ease. How does one sign up for that? Are there courses?”
Harry looked caught stranded on an island he hadn’t known he’d landed on. “I think so?”
Draco ignored the fact that he didn’t have time to take courses or money to pay for them. “Can you help me find the best one? You seem to know quite a lot about this, and I want to make sure whichever one I take is one you’d approve of.”
Harry did that head tilt thing he’d done during Draco’s presentation, like he was studying Draco really hard. “Are you mocking me?” he asked.
Draco laughed at the very thought. “No, Harry, I’m just happy. I like that you care enough to worry about me.”
That made something contort on Harry’s face. He spluttered a little, then reached for his cards. He flipped to another question, which he must have found more ridiculous than the last because he put the cards down again. Then he just sat there, completely flummoxed.
-
No one was surprised that Roshni got the first rose, or that Marcus was second. The order after that didn’t follow any sense Draco had about the state of Harry’s connections to the contestants. The unselected slowly whittled down, with Draco amongst them. He was able to keep his spirits up even when he was in the bottom half. Four episodes. They’d told him four episodes. He just had to keep breathing reassuring breaths and remember he’d get one more chance.
He could stay calm remembering that until, at the final four, Jessie was selected over Draco once again. He had to hear Jessie’s breathy giggle and watch her bounce up to Harry in excitement. Jessie, who could hardly fly on her broom, and who had given a presentation about eye shadow. To be fair, he didn’t judge Jessie for her interests. Draco had learned a lot about applying eye shadow and he secretly wanted an excuse to try it out. It’s just, in a week focused on hobbies, Jessie didn’t seem to share any with Harry, and yet Harry still picked her.
Draco glanced at his fellow remaining contestants to check if he was the only one panic sweating. This was Otis and Silas’s first time down at the bottom. Draco resented how they both appeared so calm.
Maybe they assumed they’d be in the bottom two with Draco, and Harry had already shown that Draco was his last choice.
“Draco, will you take this rose?” No one was more surprised than Draco to hear Harry say it.
Otis did look worried then, when they dragged out the final choice the way they always did.
Silas looked serene. Their smile was bright and adoring. You might have thought they didn’t have a single worry in the world. Draco only saw them crack after they received the final rose, when everyone was walking out of the throne room together and they had to listen to everyone else cheer for being there another week.