Wix Ever After

Saturday

Pansy yanked Draco into a confessional. She wasn’t gentle about it. Cameras were already blinking red and ominous, but Pansy’s snap cracked and they sputtered off. “Draco,” she growled. She was so angry she wasn’t even swearing.

“I didn’t do anything!” Draco hissed it like someone might still hear them despite their seclusion.

One of Pansy’s perfectly plucked eyebrows twitched. “Are you walking out of the castle right now? Are you on your way home? Or are you holding a fucking rose that should be Jessie’s?”

Draco threw up his arms in a “what am I supposed to do about it?” sort of gesture. He might have even snapped out the questions, but he cut himself off when all of the cameras flickered back on.

Both friends paused. Slowly, deliberately, Pansy raised a hand and snapped her fingers together.

The cameras sputtered off.

“What you need to do is-” Pansy was just about to start an exacting list of instructions for how Draco could un-fuck everything, but the cameras blinked on again as soon as she started.

They paused again. Pansy didn’t so much as glance at the blinking lights, so neither did Draco. He just stared hard at his friend, who didn’t so much as purse her lips to show her frustration. Draco knew her, though. He knew her better than anyone. Without her needing to say anything, he turned on his heel and marched over to the chair he was meant to prop himself on. “Happy now?” Draco asked, as if he was following the instructions she’d given between the recordings.

Pansy crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “Delighted.”

“Great,” Draco bit out. He glanced at the cameras then, as if just noticing them. He sucked in air as if surprised, then tried to gather himself up to something put together and attractive. They were both Slytherin enough to play this game. “Alright, I’m ready.”

Pansy reached into her bosom for notecards - only there weren’t any tonight. She hadn’t prepared for this. She pulled her hand away slowly and stared very hard at Draco. He tried to understand what she was saying with her eyes. Other than how someone was definitely watching them and they could both definitely say or do the wrong thing right now so fucking be careful.

“How does it feel still being on the show?” It was the same bland voice Pansy always used. The same bland question.

Draco tried to stop from fidgeting with his hands. “It doesn’t feel real,” Draco answered, looking straight into the camera. He realized it wasn’t a complete sentence and hastened to add, “still being on the show.”

“Are you happy to be here?” Pansy tried again.

Draco felt tight in the chest. “I’m so relieved to be on the show for one more week.” Pansy’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Draco was giving her nothing and she must be feeling some kind of way. “I’m so happy to get another chance to spend time with Harry,” Draco tried again. “It’s such a relief that he chose me.” Pansy gave the smallest of nods, with just the barest shift of her head.

“Why do you think Harry picked you to stay this week?” It shouldn’t have been pointed. She asked it every week. Tonight it hung between them.

Draco rubbed sweaty hands over his trousers. “With so many people in the competition, it’s so hard to know if you’ve made an impression. I really tried this week to make the most of every chance I had. I didn’t want to leave, and then have to look back and see that I didn’t put my whole self out there, you know?”

“What do you think made the biggest impact?”

“Oh, um,” Draco remembered every moment he spent in Harry’s company since coming on this show. There had been the kiss, which had been a spark if Draco ever felt it. But something must have happened earlier for Harry to even be willing to kiss him. “I, um, I’m just being myself. I’m trying to be authentic, and to form a real connection. We haven’t had much time, yet, to really build something. Not like he clearly has with some of the other contestants. But, he must have seen something in me he didn’t see in Jessie.”

Pansy pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side, considering what she wanted to get out of Draco. More likely, considering what she needed to get him to say to appease whoever was eavesdropping on their conversation. “What was it about Jessie that made Harry not choose her tonight?”

Draco shrank a little under the question. It felt like a trap. He didn’t want anything he said to be used in the show to make him look bad or heartless. He didn’t want Jessie to have to endure being insulted when she’d already lost her chance at Harry. He tried to think beyond how he’d squirmed to see Jessie cling to Harry at every chance, to the reason why Harry would never want her to.

“Jessie was really fun. Like, she was always chatting and laughing and had a lot of friends in the house. And she didn’t get grumpy at all during the quidditch game, even when she was rubbish at it. She just did her best and made the most of it. She was really good at her hobby presentation, too, clearly she’s smart and applies herself. We just know from what Harry said in the show that he wants to marry someone he can bond with and do shared activities with, and he didn’t really have anything in common with Jessie. Maybe he’s more like-” Draco paused to gulp and look at his feet instead of the camera. “Maybe Harry is more like me. He wants to make a connection with someone, before connecting physically, and even though Jessie’s great, he just never felt that with her.” Draco sighed. “So he chose me instead.”

“You don’t sound excited.” Pansy’s words didn’t bite as they usually would. He couldn’t tell if she was being kind, or if this was some other sign he just was too emotionally exhausted to understand.

“Oh. well.” Draco nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Just, as I think about it, I think it means I still haven’t made a connection with Harry. And if I don’t do that, I’ll be sent home.”

Pansy gave in and let herself look sad. “Draco, you were always going to be sent home.”

“Oh.” Draco laughed a strained choked thing. “Yeah, of course.”

Sunday

On screen, Harry was squirming in the bar lounge next to Lee. Draco had been in that room, once or twice, but this was the first time a formal activity was there. The activity being Lee systematically getting Harry drunk. “I mean, they’re all attractive,” Harry bashfully admitted at some point during his third fire whiskey.

Lee was grinning like a cat. “You’ve had a good look, have you?”

Harry actually covered his face to hide the blush. “You’re killing me, Lee,” he muttered. You might worry he was being taken advantage of, but it had been Harry’s idea (at least on camera) to have this talk while drinking.

Lee’s laugh was boisterous. “This week is all about that attraction. Finding the spark. So tell me, who’re you most looking forward to taking that next step with?” Harry actually glanced at a camera, too aware there were eyes on him. “Don’t look at that, look at me,” Lee insisted. Begrudgingly, Harry did. Lee turned all his power of earnestness on his friend to wrangle an answer out of him. “Which one of these contestants already has your heart pounding?”

“I don’t know,” Harry groaned, and it felt like he wasn’t going to give an answer. He grabbed his drink and downed it to buy time. You could see Lee considering pouring another, but Lee could read Harry and gave him time. It was just a moment longer before Harry cracked. He let out a big woosh of air and said as quickly as he could just to get it out. “Marcus, Roshni, maybe,” there was the biggest of gulps, “maybe Draco.”

Maybe Draco. Draco.

Fuck. Harry thought he was hot.

That was not worth panicking over. There was no reason to panic just because Draco now had to wonder what Harry had meant by saying Draco got his heart pounding. More like, Draco should keep that close to his thumping heart when he had to see himself on screen showing more skin than he’d like in his bathing suit. He couldn’t tell if the Harry on screen paid him any special mind. Except, Harry had let himself get drunk on national television so he could admit outloud what he must have known already. He’d said he’d wanted to take whatever the hell the next step was with Draco. Maybe that next step was an hour cuddled up in a hot tub together, but instead all he got from Draco was a flirty comment and a good view of Draco’s ass as he flipped over on his way down into the water. If Harry had taken a good look the cameras didn’t show it.

The contestants after Draco hadn’t lasted long. Roshni fell out when her own truth didn’t match Harry’s, but Silas and Jessie hung on a few questions more by having a good instinct about what Harry had chosen for himself. In the end, they both lied, but Jessie chose the right side when she did so, and Silas fell.

The hot tub scene fell short of hot and steamy, no matter how hard Jessie tried to turn up the pressure. Jessie had draped herself in Harry’s lap, or sometimes between his legs, and he kept nudging her back a bit to try to have a conversation. She’d chat and be flirty, but always wanted to get in close only to have the cycle repeat itself. The scene cut out on Harry asking her to just try to talk with him and show him who she was.

Cut to Silas in a confessional, crying on camera and lamenting how embarrassed they were to always tell their fans to be true to themselves, but then they were so nervous because of this competition and they thought they had to lie just for a chance to get Harry’s attention. They ended by asking the camera to turn off, because they didn’t want anyone to see them like that.

Draco was still with the discomfort of watching another contestant break down in a way they clearly hadn’t wanted anyone to see. There wasn’t anything the producers wouldn’t put in the show, was there?

On Tuesday, Harry took five of his suitors on a romantic sunset boat ride. He took the time to talk to each of his dates one-on-one, and spent the majority of the evening having a heartfelt conversation with Silas where both of them opened up about the pressures of being famous, and Silas shared how they felt they always had to be perfect because they never wanted to disappoint their fans. Harry said some things that were very wise and stoic and understanding, but Draco mostly hated how Harry’s hand rested on Silas’ knee the whole time, and Draco could see Harry’s thumb rubbing Silas soothingly.

It must be a thing Harry did, not a thing he did with Draco.

Draco was hardly a blip in what they showed on Wednesday. The camera was much more interested in Jessie’s continued attempts to get cozy with Harry. They made it look like Harry had purposely asked Draco to sit next to him just to keep Jessie at bay.

Thursday was Sol’s time to shine. He was some sort of yoga pro, and while Draco didn’t think yoga was the sort of thing you were meant to do in competition with other people, Sol was chosen in the end for a one on one lesson with Harry. They were guided through a series of yoga poses that everyone had to know resembled sex. Harry certainly seemed to know, if his blush was any indication. Or maybe the blush was because he was realizing Sol should definitely have been on his list of heartthrobs, with his lean muscle and abundance of flexibility. Plus they snacked together after and served each other finger food. Sol alternated between telling Harry everything about his life, and licking hummus off Harry’s fingers suggestively.

Friday was the culmination of an entire week of sexual tension the producers had gleefully built up between Harry and the contestants. Draco wished he could walk out of the kissing contest again, this time because he knew Harry actually was growing feelings for many of these contestants. Probably Harry had known who some of the people he kissed were. They were all built so different, he couldn’t not know. Probably, Harry had really been wanting to kiss some of them. Which meant what Draco was watching was authentic, emotional attraction matched with the physical. Once again Draco felt sick.

They showed when Draco walked out of the room without participating. They showed enough of Draco’s angst-filled explanation.

What they didn’t show was Harry and Draco kissing in the Interview Room.

Draco was surprised. It would have been dramatic. It certainly would have stirred up the other contestants and the audience. It definitely would have been more interesting than Harry’s last ditch attempts to build some connection with Jessie. To find anything at all that they had in common.

When Harry let Jessie go it didn’t seem at all like he was picking Draco over her, just that he’d reached the conclusion she wasn’t the one for him. It was the first time the show took the time to show other contestants hugging a contestant who didn’t get their own rose. Like a love letter to a nice girl, who simply wasn’t the one.

Thursday

Four days without seeing Harry felt like the producers were rubbing it in. What were they rubbing in? That this show was absolutely not about Draco Malfoy.

That’s why they hadn’t shown his moments of connection with Harry in the last episode. As far as the producers cared, he’d already been written off. He hadn’t been able to corner Pansy alone to confirm his suspicions, and she hadn’t tried once this week to turn the cameras off. The confessionals were bleak prayers to the universe to let tomorrow be the day Draco got to see Harry. Draco hated to be weak ever, but especially in public. He couldn’t help but look it now, with his fidgeting hands, constantly bit lips, and his hair actually askew from all the times he’d yanked his fingers through it. Certainly, it would be good fodder when his time here concluded on Saturday.

As much as they might like to, they couldn’t keep Draco off the show entirely. So, today he finally got a schedule with something on it. 1:00 PM: Meet in lobby for group date (Dress code casual). They hadn’t included a dress code before, so they must not want to embarrass anyone this time round.

Draco rolled in wearing the same sort of buttoned down shirt and cardigan he’d wear at home while researching in his library. He did look rather bookish. Roshni and Everett were already there. Roshni in well-worn jeans over ankle boots and a black T-shirt highlighting what must be a muggle thing called the Clash. Everett wore high-waist white linen pants and a royal blue buttoned up shirt not buttoned up all the way. He had an elegant casualness about him. They were each their own person in every way, and Draco had no clue which one was what Harry was looking for.

Roshni greeted Draco with a nod and a wave, Everett offered the thinnest of smiles. With the pleasantries complete, the three of them were transported offsite to a location like nothing Draco had ever seen.

It resembled a store front, with the way there was a clear entrance from a street that led up to a counter. The wall to Draco’s left along the path from door to counter was covered in a series of peculiar paintings. Mazes and puzzles and math equations, with any number of stylized question marks. Behind the counter was a sign in what Draco thought the muggles called neon. It had that look to it, that electric look, but none of the humming Draco associated with muggle electronic apparatuses. Nevertheless, the giant shiny neon words “Escape Zone” were unquestionably muggle.

Lee and Harry were waiting for them behind the counter. Harry was dressed down as well, in basic trousers and a plain black tee that was nothing to write home about except Harry was wearing it and you could see how his muscles pulled on the fabric. Lee was in a black tee, this time branded in a neon “Escape Zone” logo, with the pink and orange flannel Draco had first seen him in tossed over it.

“Hello Darlings, are you in for a treat!” Lee said with his usual exuberance. “My old pal Katie Bell is lending us her business today - thanks Katie! - and even did us a solid by resetting it to a Valentine’s themed experience. Now, can any of you love birds guess what’s in store?”

Draco bit his lip. Everett looked puzzled. Roshni smirked. “I love an escape room.”

“Ding ding ding!” Lee said it like he was announcing a big win. He looked to the camera and added a quick explanation for the magic born wizards that this was a muggle game where people voluntarily lock themselves in a room and are forced to solve themed puzzles to escape.

“The theme is the murder of the Valentine wizards?” Everett asked uncertainly, drawing on exactly the wrong part of history.

“It’s a muggle holiday,” Draco corrected. “An evolution of fertility ceremonies.”

“Nah, it’s just about commercialization of romance,” Roshni chimed in. “Bullshit, is all it is.”

“Let’s keep it clean for the audience at home, shall we?” reminded Lee before switching immediately back into host mode.

“You three will be joining Harry in a muggle escape room. You’ll have one hour to solve the mystery and escape - for honor, glory, and bragging rights! Not to mention, if you put your brains together and solve the problems presented to you successfully, your team will have an extended date this evening.”

Draco actually gasped. He turned immediately to Harry, standing there with his awkward on-camera smile, not paying the slightest attention to Draco’s existence. Draco had to win this. He had to. Else he might as well already be gone, for all the chances he’d be given.

All the players surrendered their wands in a box marked “cell phones”. They were walked through the building to a large door that could have led anywhere. Everett was beside Harry while they walked, but Harry made a point of looking back to say hello to Roshni and Draco too. “I didn’t see you Monday,” Harry said almost offhand to Draco, who didn’t have time to ask what he meant because they were already to their destination.

Before they could go in, PAs ran about, arranging them in a specific order, which just so happened to have Draco on the end again, with Roshni between him and Harry. They had to stand in front of that big, intimidating door while the cameras covered different angles in the tight space.

Draco must have looked nervous because Roshni leaned over to him and said, “Chin up, we’ve got this.”

Draco didn’t think he was actually reassured. “I haven’t played muggle games before,” he admitted.

“Puzzle’s a puzzle,” Roshni said with a certainty that actually eased Draco’s fears a little. “Besides, me and my sisters do one of these twice a year with our mum. I’ll help you as we go.”

It might have been the first time in the castle someone offered to help him, other than Pansy. Draco completely missed seeing the door open, because he was smiling so big at Roshni. She smirked again, then nudged him in a friendly way. Then she led the way in.

It was a square room set up to vaguely look like a restaurant, with a single table in the middle just big enough for two. The table was set for a romantic date at a fine restaurant. Or, a middling restaurant, if you knew what proper table settings were and that this wasn’t it. One wall had a giant menu, a corner had an old record player, various other things were scattered around the room where you’d expect them to belong.

Draco jumped when a voice boomed out of the ceiling instructing them to complete their perfect date to exit the room. Then bright red dots spelled out numbers on a device above the door. 60:00. A loud chime and the clock started its countdown.

“Look at everything!” Roshni shouted as she ran to the menu and started touching things on it. “Look for puzzles and see if you can solve any.”

Harry looked from Roshni, then to the other men still close to the door. He offered his own bewildered smile and a shrug, then ran off to a stand that resembled a host station. Draco looked at what was left and chose the obvious: the dinner table. Not knowing where to start, he touched everything, looking under every fork and spoon in case something revealed itself. Everett soon followed him, touching the other side of the table. He made a distressed sound, then decided to start his puzzle solving by arranging the silverware to its proper order. Draco stifled a smile at what he guessed were wasted, if understandable, efforts.

When Draco pulled out one of the chairs he found a white box with a red ribbon. Now that looked like a clue. He picked the box up and easily untied it. Inside resembled a box of chocolates, with small labeled titles standing in for each flavor. Caramel, nougat, cherry, and so on. Draco picked one up. It was light and easy to move. He squinted at the writing. Something was weird. He looked back in the box at all of them. Sure enough, each had exactly one bolded letter. “I found something!” He shouted excitedly and when he looked up Roshni had already turned to check in on him. “It’s letters. A letter clue.”

“Try to see if they spell something,” Roshni encouraged.

Draco nodded and grinned then sat down with the box and got to work. Everett was still at the table fiddling with things, so Draco used the floor to try different combinations of the bolded letters. It wasn’t as easy as he thought, he kept getting distracted by the larger words and losing track of what he was looking at. If he had his wand he’d magic just the letters into the air and more easily arrange and read them. If he had a quill he might be able to do something similar on paper. As is, he had to trudge through all the options he could think of, discarding guess after guess. This would be much easier if he could narrow the choices down.

He pulled back and looked at all the letters, trying to see if there was anything strange or unusually. There wasn’t. But… it clicked in his head that he could try just pulling out letter combinations. For example, there was an i, g, h, and t. That could be the end of a word. He set those four aside. He played with what was left, trying to combine sounds instead of guess words, and eventually he had enough small pieces that he was able to arrange into…

“Candlelight!” Draco shouted. He got up to his knees and looked at everyone else. “What do we do with candlelight?”

Harry jumped up from the puzzle he was working through back to the host table. He opened a drawer and pulled out a small square thing. “I have matches!” the urgency of the game made everything an enthusiastic declaration.

“Candles on the table,” Roshni said still by the menu, even though Everett was the one at the table and might have noticed.

Draco was on his feet by then, and instead of abandoning his own puzzle, Harry tossed the matches to Draco who easily caught them out of the air. He flipped the cardboard thing from front to back, figuring out how to open it. The stick things weren’t too different from wizard materials, and Draco was able to figure out how to remove one and strike it. He lit both candles on the table and waited for something magic to happen.

Only they were muggle, and all they did was burn. Draco frowned at them, then up at Everett who was now doing absolutely nothing as he watched Draco. “Should something be happening?” Draco asked.

“Maybe,” Roshni said, “but leave it for now and work on something else. Maybe another clue will give us a hint.” Draco got to it, leaving the table once more to Everett’s responsibility.

Draco worked on the record player and discovered that its edges were made up of squares that moved and needed to be rearranged. He fiddled with it and found a pattern, which when set opened a hidden compartment. The compartment had a padlock and he shouted for a five digit number. Rohsni supplied it, already deciphering something from menu prices. The compartment had four records in it. Draco tried playing each one until the third went beyond white noise and they all heard a chef planning the night’s specials. Roshni whooped in delight because whatever he said solved another issue.

Meanwhile, Harry had found an electric tea kettle and plugged it into the only outlet in the room. He used the steaming hot water to create moisture over a window, where a hidden message was revealed. Roshni and Harry worked together to use that to find a way to open the window, and unlock a cabinet of painted figurines inside. They’d been used to display what was meant to be outside the restaurant, which of course were more clues to be deciphered.

Just then, Draco looked back at the table where Everett was sitting and staring at one of the plates very intently. A candle had gone out. Draco ran over to see what was happening. One half of the first candle had burned down. It revealed more than melted wax, something mettle was jutting out of it. However, the other candle wasn’t melted enough to see if it held the same. “Where are the matches?” Draco asked Everett. Everett rolled his eyes and shrugged. Draco suppressed a growl and began moving everything at the table in case Everett had simply misplaced it. Sure enough, they were under one of the cloth napkins. Draco quickly lit the second candle and pocketed the matches so they wouldn’t be lost again.

“We need a key!” Harry called.

Roshni corrected, “Two keys.”

Draco looked at the one candle nearly melted. “They’re in the candles!” Roshni took over candle management and Draco hopped back to find another task.

The game was unlike anything Draco had ever experienced before. Each movement was frenzied, each decision disproportionately tense. Adrenaline was pounding like in a quidditch game, a dueling match, or one of the lower stakes battles in the war. Certainly this didn’t feel life or death, but there was a thrill to each discovery. A jubilation with each puzzle decoded. When Draco uncovered a magnetic lock that opened when he lined up the serving tray to markings on the wall and an entire hidden door to a side room opened… the only word he could think of to describe his emotions was glee.

Then there was Harry, working with him shoulder to shoulder to solve a puzzle involving weighing candies on a scale and when they unlocked it together after Draco remembered the box of candies in the other room… well, Draco had never seen Harry share that large, unencumbered smile with him before. Draco could have melted there on the spot, if they weren’t so short on time.

Everett had taken to shouting at everyone how much time was left in the game. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Five minutes. Harry was the one to actually yell at him and ask if he had anything useful to contribute. Draco looked up just then to catch the stricken look on Everett’s face. He disappeared back into the main room for a moment before coming back with four numbers written on a napkin. “Is this something?” he asked. Roshni took it and used it to unlock a chest at the end of the room, which produced a key. There was one lock in the side of a jewelry box that the key didn’t fit, but Everett said he found something by the door and he and Roshni went running to it. Draco heard Roshni shout “We need four letters. A word probably. It’ll open the door!”

Draco jumped up and redoubled his efforts to find the last key. He checked the insides of every drawer, the trim high up on the wall, the floor under every surface. They had to be so close, maybe even that one key away.

“Three minutes!” Everett was shouting.

“Just give me four letter words. There’s no penalty for guessing wrong,” Roshni suggested.

Draco could hear them brainstorming from afar. Love. Kiss. Date. They were trying anything they could think of.

Draco got back up to his feet and tried to look around with fresh eyes. This was made up to resemble a dressing room. There was the makeup table with the locked jewelry box, a table filled with valentines presents where they’d solved the candy puzzle, a giant wardrobe Draco recalled Roshni rifling through as much as she could. There was a lot in the wardrobe she hadn’t gotten to. “Harry! Help me check the wardrobe.”

Meal. Pair. Wine. Hugs. Sexy. Gift.

Draco was scrambling through a jacket, checking for any pockets that might be hidden and anything that might be hidden in them. Harry was going through a sequined dress with equal vigor.

“One minute!” This time it was Roshni, panicked.

Draco let go of the jacket and stepped away from the wardrobe. He turned round to survey the room, looking for anything. His eyes landed on the jewelry box. The final clue had to be in the box. It felt like he walked in slow motion when he approached it but that was the nerves slowing his world down in case his mind could manage something clever. He was charged enough he could certainly pull off a wandless alohomora but that would be cheating. If only Harry had been Slytherin, then maybe he wouldn’t have minded. A bloody, stubborn, stupid Gryffindor would be chivalrous, he’d want to win fair. Which meant… which meant…

Outside of the box were necklaces, bracelets, tiaras, any manner of fake jewel and pearl one could adorn themself with. However there was no… “RING!” Draco shouted. “RING! It’s RING!”

The big overhead voice came back on for an overly melodramatic countdown. “Ten, nine, eight…” Draco was running back out to the main room to make sure he was heard in time. He arrived just as Roshni shoved Everett to the side and entered Draco’s guess herself.

There was a moment that felt long and excruciating when absolutely nothing happened. Then he realized it wasn’t that nothing was happening, but rather the countdown had stopped both out loud and above the exit.

The door clicked. Roshni tried the handle.

A warm body pressed against Draco’s back. Harry, crowding close enough that Draco could feel his breath on his ear. They watched together as Roshni pushed on the door. Harry’s hand gripped Draco’s arm, nervously holding on as they watched what would happen. Draco wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t watching the door. His entire focus was on Harry’s hand holding him. On the heat of the body behind him.

The door swung open, and a mob of people crammed into the hallway shouted, “Congratulations!”

-

“Oy, stop laughing at my childhood trauma,” Roshni fake scolded as Draco wheezed so hard he almost shot the water he’d just drank out of his nose. Roshni clucked her tongue at him. “Typical only child.”

“I’m sorry!” Draco insisted between bouts of laughter. They’d chatted through all of dinner and regrettably he understood why Harry would want more time with Roshni. “It’s just hard to imagine you all done up in, what was it, feathers?”

Roshni scowled. “Yes, it was feathers. What sort of monster uses feathers in their transfiguration potion?”

“It’s a testament to your muggle parents’ not being suited for raising magic children.” Draco and Roshni’s banter dried up immediately at Everett’s harsh words. “How did the ministry not confiscate your entire family’s magical supplies?” Everett had completely failed to ease into victory celebrations on the extended group pub date.

“You never played potions at home, did you?” Draco said icily.

Everett sniffed. He crossed one leg over the other and refused to look at the two other dates.

“Ignore him,” Roshni said. “He’s just sour that he was useless today in the game.”

That had Everett turning to glare at her. “I was not!” He insisted just as Harry came back with a round of drinks the PAs suggested they stay for. Dinner had been fun, and for once Harry was actually talking to Draco as much as everyone else. Everyone had been excited to keep the date going a little longer.

Roshni was having a blast. She wasn’t shy about how competitive she was, and was riding high on having gotten out of a tough scrape. She grinned wickedly because Harry walked in just in time for her to roast Everett. “You were the worst escape room teammate I’ve ever seen, and I once went in with my sister Aanya’s husband Milton, who smuggled in his phone and spent the entire time watching football. What did you manage to do? Blow out the candles and insist on being the one to input the final clues despite having no experience with muggle typing?”

“I found a clue!” Everett insisted. He turned to Harry. “I found a clue,” he said again, as if Harry would vindicate him.

Harry smiled awkwardly, very much a man who was aware he was walking into a fight without all the context. He lifted up his beer and held it out for a toast. “To all of us for solving the damn thing.” That was enough to ease the mood. Everyone tapped glasses and drank.

“I’m always amazed,” Draco said after a large gulp of beer, “how muggles do everything. Magic is finicky, but enough of it is just intent and will. Humans have physics.”

“What’s physics?” Everett asked after his much more proper sip.

Draco shrugged. “That’s just it. I don’t know!”

Roshni paused to consider it. “Come to think of it, I don’t know, either. Isn’t it about things moving and stuff?”

Everett stared blankly, completely lost. “Muggles have a word for things moving?”

“It’s a type of science,” Harry tried to explain.

Everett’s face was trying not to pinch up in confusion but not entirely succeeding. “Science like…”

The other three stopped and tried to think hard about the wizard equivalent of physics.

“Maybe charms?” Draco offered. “It can change the properties of an object.”

“What do wizards do for engineering?” Harry asked. “I’ve never studied spells for building things.”

“Oh, definitely charms, then. I mean, you need a deft hand at transfiguration to make the materials do what you like, and you’ve got to put everything in the right place, but then it’s charm work to stick them together and get them to stay long term,” Draco mused. He stopped rambling when he noticed Harry looking at him funny. His brows were furrowing again even if his stare wasn’t sharp.

Roshni nudged Draco. “When did a posh wizard like you learn building stuff?”

Draco put his beer down a little too hard. “I manage the estate,” Draco said as if that would cover it.

“Yeah,” Harry murmured. “That’s what it said on your application.”

“You looked at the applications?” Everett asked, but Harry ignored him.

“Estate management and landlord?” Harry recited Draco’s listed profession as if it were a question.

“Landlord, eh?” Roshni asked. “Is your job like going round to tenants collecting rent?” Draco had the sudden desire to sink under the table. Unfortunately, the booth was too tight to give him the wiggle room he’d need to manage it without supreme embarrassment.

Everett, of course, had to make it worse. “He’s not a muggle landlord,” Everett was saying. He turned to Harry and added, “obviously,” as if it was an inside joke they both understood. It was Harry’s turn to look confused, because obviously he was raised by muggles just like Roshni. Everett must have realized his mistake because he quickly added, “He’s the land’s lord. He’s obligated to preserve its magical properties and wellbeing.”

Harry turned his puzzled look to Draco. “That’s a job?”

Draco may have looked ill. He tried to glance to Roshni for support because she’d been supporting him all day, but she looked just as curious and ignorant on the subject as Harry. “It’s not that different from muggles,” Draco tried. “Muggle nobility owned land and peasants worked it and paid taxes. It’s kind of like that.”

“It’s nothing like that!” Everett said because he was nothing if not committed to his pureblood perspective. “If anything, the land owns you.”

That was not the way Draco would have put it. Although, technically it wasn’t far off, if you were willing to try to explain technicalities of pureblood tradition to a muggle-born witch, a muggle-raised savior, and the entire wizarding world watching from home.

“It’s complicated,” Draco said instead. Then in a rush as if this wasn’t an important part, “I just am personally responsible for the welfare of all the Malfoy lands and the people living within them.”

“Just the wizards,” Everett felt the need to correct.

Draco turned bright red. He could feel Harry’s eyes on him and wondered if Harry was seeing him as a pureblood snob who only cared about wizards. It was that alone that had him explaining, “Actually, the Malfoys have had a muggle title since the reign of William the Conqueror…” nope, no, bad. Malfoy family history certainly would not be on Pansy’s list of acceptable topics. Draco cut himself off with a shrug. “We also own the land according to muggle law, so I suppose I am a muggle landlord.” He gulped. How his father would have hated to hear that. “Besides, wizards are just one part of the larger magical ecosystem so even if there were no muggles in our part of Wiltshire I’d still tend to more than just the wizards.”

“Wiltshire? Like Stonehenge?” Roshni was leaning in close to Draco now with the starry eyed look he’d seen in his Slytherin housemates when they realized exactly who the Malfoys were. He made a note to never, ever tell her.

“Thankfully, no,” Draco said without explaining the challenges that would come with Stonehenge and having to negotiate with so powerful a clan of fairies. Draco picked up the beer again because he needed something to do with his hands. Which led to Draco drinking quite a lot of the beer rather quickly.

Everett, bless him, realized he’d encouraged the conversation to focus far too long on Draco instead of himself, and launched into a long explanation of his own pure-blood family’s tie to the land and their dedicated, unblemished record of serving it. Likely, only the pure-bloods watching would understand exactly how scathing and underhanded his insults to Draco were.

Draco went ahead and finished his beer.

-

“Steady there, Draco.” It was Harry, of course, who caught Draco before he fell.

There weren’t many instances to indulge in alcohol and Draco mostly didn’t. It left him being far too susceptible to intoxication for public settings, especially ones where PAs kept replacing his empty glass even if no one else had finished their drinks yet.

Draco tried to look at Harry but his shape kept moving. “‘M dizzy,” Draco slurred. How many beers had he had? Had anyone been counting?

Maybe Harry smiled. “You’re drunk.”

“Am I?” Draco asked. He didn’t remember that happening. He looked around for cameras and sure enough, there they were. “Did I do anything embarrassing? Will they put it on the show?”

Maybe Harry frowned. “No, you were mostly quiet.”

Draco sighed with relief, which turned into swaying closer into Harry. He smelled good. Whatever word meant sweat but good. Musk? Draco wanted to bury his nose in it. “I don’t like group dates,” Draco mumbled into Harry’s shoulder. “‘t’s stressful.”

“It’s the show. I only get so much time for anything else.”

The show. Draco was on TV right now. He should push himself off of Harry and try not to be a complete embarrassment. Then his brain caught up to the second part. He only had so much time for anything else. But he got to choose what that anything else was. Draco could remember Lee’s announcements stating who Harry chose to take on dates. It was never Draco.

That was sobering. Draco found he could stand up on his own and take a step away. He was meant to be using his hard-earned time to gain Harry’s affection, but he didn’t know how. Everything was dizzy and the world seemed to lurch under his feet. It made real on the outside what his emotions had been on the inside for weeks.

He swayed again, but this time Roshni caught him. “Don’t worry, Harry, I’ll get him to bed safe,” she assured.

Harry still reached out and took Draco’s hand. “Are you good?” he asked.

Draco looked at where Harry’s fingers were wrapped around his own. It was even better than Harry holding on to his arm nervously at the end of the escape room. Was Harry really touching him like this or was it Draco’s imagination?

“‘M good,” Draco mumbled. He wished he hadn’t, because with a final squeeze of Draco’s hand, Harry pulled his own away.

Friday

There was vomit on Draco’s pillow and he didn’t remember how it got there. Unfortunately, that wasn’t even the worst of his problems. Pansy found him sicking himself up in his bathroom, now dry heaving because there was nothing else left in his body.

“You’re not on the agenda,” Pansy said in a dull monotone without so much as offering a cleaning spell to clean Draco’s face. She set a scroll of parchment on the rim of the sink above Draco’s head. Draco leaned his head on the toilet lid. There were no cameras here. It was safe to close his eyes and hate the world. “Hangover potion is in the infirmary.”

Draco coughed and it made his raw throat burn. “Couldn’t you have brought one with you?” he moaned.

He could hear the click of Pansy’s heels as she sauntered away. “Take a shower first, you’re not an animal.”

-

Showered and technically dressed, Draco shuffled into the infirmary an hour later. The healer didn’t spare so much as a judgemental glance before summoning the potion. They must be old hat, and Draco was run of the mill. Draco drank the entire vial on the spot. The challenge with hangover potions was how to keep them down. It was gooey in his throat, and bubbly in his belly, but Draco took deep, focused breaths until the sensation passed. It took with it the pounding in his head and intense nausea that had haunted him.

Draco was just sighing in desperate relief when a door off to one of what he supposed were healers' rooms opened. He glanced up and saw Susan stepping out of the room. Her eyes were red rimmed like she’d been crying, but her smile was authentic. She turned back to the room and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she reached out to hug the person who had walked her to the door.

Harry Potter.

Draco… probably should not have stared. It was clearly an intimate moment and his very presence was encroaching. However, he couldn’t not stare. It brought out the same self-loathing in him as watching the Dark Lord cast the Cruciatus. Like he was watching something he knew was wrong and too cowardly to stop it.

Maybe Harry felt his stare because he suddenly was looking up and meeting Draco’s eyes. Harry startled, and Draco immediately looked down at his feet to try to hide how he’d been watching.

“Draco?” It was Harry’s voice, so Draco had to look back up. Harry’s hands were on Susan as if he had gently pushed her away from him. He was still staring at Draco. Draco looked from Harry to Susan, who had just turned to see Draco there. Her eyes began to well again with tears.

Draco tried to make himself as small as possible. “Sorry, I just came in to pick up a potion.”

Harry gave him his bushiest eyebrow stare. “They said you were too sick to participate today.”

Draco tried to get even smaller. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“You don’t look too sick to participate,” Harry’s tone was scathing.

“Uhhhh,” Draco wished he’d made no noise rather than one so inarticulate. He held up his potion vial as if it explained everything. “I’m feeling much better now?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Wait here,” he commanded. Then he went back into the room and shut the door.

Draco was left standing awkwardly while Susan glared at him. To top it off, Everett walked in to see it all. The cameras definitely captured Susan stomping her feet and marching off, and Everett asking Draco what he did. Draco had no answers.

When the door opened back up it was an unknown wix instead of Harry. They cleared their throat uncomfortably. “Apologies, Everett, we’re behind in the schedule. Draco, could you come with me?”

Draco’s eyes went round as saucers. He had no idea what was going on. Except Harry was through that door, and clearly he’d done something to fit Draco onto the agenda. Draco’s heart leapt in his chest and he scrambled after the stranger.

Inside wasn’t a hospital room like Draco had expected. It was an office of some sort, with comfortable chairs and a loveseat. The wix gestured to Draco to sit on the loveseat, right next to Harry. Draco blinked a few times to make sure this was real. Harry smiled at him patiently. Encouragingly, even. Draco sat down.

“Thank you for joining us, Draco. My name is Landon, and I’ve been asked to join the Wix Ever After production today. I am a muggle-born wizard, and my career is specializing in supporting muggle and magic-born wix in their relationships with one another.”

“They’re a marriage therapist,” Harry mock whispered to Draco. Landon smiled indulgently as if they were expecting Harry to do this. Maybe Harry did it for every contestant he brought in here.

“Pleased to meet you,” Draco said because politeness was often the best first line of defense. He tried not to fidget already but the whole experience was overwhelming.

Landon had a calming demeanor which Draco was sure they cultivated to put people at ease and Draco hoped would work on him any moment now. “As you know, the theme of this week is problem solving. Harry has been exploring how you and the other contestants work through problems you encounter. I’m here today to help you explore how your background can impact how you communicate with your partner when conflict arises.”

Draco looked from Landon, to Harry, then back to Landon. He licked his lips nervously. He wasn’t certain what the two other wix were looking for and he was afraid to ask.

Landon seemed to understand Draco’s struggle. “Don’t worry. There is no wrong way to participate today. This is just an opportunity for you and Harry to learn more about each other. Ultimately, this is for both of you.” Landon pulled out a scroll and quill and handed both to Draco. “These questions are all completely confidential. The exercise I’m offering today is for you to have the opportunity to fill out these questions, and if you choose to, there will be a brief analysis of what the answers to the questions suggest about your attachment style in relationships. This isn’t a magic ball,” he paused to smile like it was a joke, “nothing I would tell you is pre-ordained and there may be some pieces that feel more right to you then others. That’s why the final part of this exercise is to give you the chance to share with Harry what feels right to you about the results, so he can better understand you. Harry will have the opportunity to share his results, as well.”

Draco turned to Harry again, who was looking back with his own encouraging smile. Draco really didn’t want to do whatever exercise this was. The nice thing about constant solitude is he never had to worry about disappointing people. However, Harry had interrupted the entire day’s agenda to give Draco this space and that meant he must want Draco here participating.

Draco unrolled the scroll and got started.

It was… a lot. Mostly questions about his parents and how he felt about them. Like, whether he felt he could depend on them or if he could share his problems with them. Draco kept glancing up to check and see if anyone was watching what he wrote. He saw both Landon and Harry looking elsewhere. Even the cameras were off for once. Slowly, tentatively, Draco filled out the entire form and tried very, very hard to be honest. He got through the section about his mother feeling uncomfortable, but confident in his choices.

The next section had the exact same questions, but about his father. Draco’s face flamed with embarrassment. How was he supposed to… “No one’s going to see these answers?”

“No one,” Landon said firmly. “They’ll be destroyed at the end of this conversation.”

Draco swallowed around a dry knot in his throat. He glanced again at Harry, who was staring down at his hands with a serious expression. Harry’s parents were dead, but he filled out this odd questionnaire. Draco wondered who Harry’d thought about when he had to answer whether he depended on his father when he was in trouble, or worried his father might abandon him.

That was too deep a thought for Draco to handle right now. Fuck it. Draco decided to finish the questionnaire as fast as he possibly could, selecting the first answer that felt right and giving no extra thought to each decision. He snapped the scroll closed when he was done and handed it back to Landon. They thanked him for completing the exercise then used a spell Draco didn’t recognize to analyze his answers. With the wave of a wand, Landon summoned a much smaller scroll and handed it to Draco to read.

It started with an overview of something called “Attachment Theory,” that said the theory focuses on relationships and bonds between people, including those between a parent and child and between romantic partners. It explained how early bonds children form with caregivers could have impacts on attachments throughout a person’s entire life. Then it explained the four different “attachment styles”, which was about the point Draco started to get flustered and uncomfortable. He put the scroll down without finishing it.

“What is all this for?” he asked as calmly as he could.

That was Landon’s cue to repeat their calming smile. “This exercise is intended to give you and Harry a chance to share more about yourselves with each other.”

Draco glanced at Harry, who was still staring at his hands dutifully. Draco looked back at Landon. “What are we to share?” He was proud that his voice didn’t shake.

“Have you finished reading?” Landon asked.

Draco looked down at the scroll. He was clutching it tight enough to crumple. “I…” he glanced at Harry again, who finally was peeking up to look back. He looked so damn earnest. Draco swallowed. His eyes darted to Landon, then back to Harry. “Um, I still need to finish it,” Draco said to Harry. He took the time to unwrinkle the scroll and finish reading what it said.

It didn’t feel good to be given a label. “Anxious Attachment Style”. He didn’t like how it sounded. He didn’t like what it suggested about him. He rolled the scroll up again and set it firmly down.

“Alright,” he said, staring at the floor. “I’ve read it.”

“Thank you for participating in the analysis,” Landon was the sort to take the time to appreciate everything. Draco squirmed a bit because it had been hard to do something that he was sure everyone else had found easy. “Now you have the opportunity to share any part of what you read, or what it made you think about, with Harry.”

Harry was full on staring again. Draco could feel his eyes, almost as clearly as he could feel the cameras with their blinking red lights, turned back on to capture every moment. Draco put his hands down on the seat and tucked his fingers under his hips so he wouldn’t fidget with the whole world watching. “Uh, it was an interesting theory.” Both Landon and Harry waited probably not as long as it felt like to Draco to see if he would say anything more. Draco licked his lips. “Is there a reason for this, um, this particular test?”

“It’s an assessment, Draco,” Landon reminded. “There are no right or wrong answers. And it was Harry who asked that we try this one.”

Draco jerked round to look again at Harry. He held himself with the same awkwardness as when he was delivering scripted dialogue on screen. However, his words had the certainty that only came when he spoke his mind. “I’ve been pretty open, in recent years, about going to therapy,” he shared. “This te- I mean, assessment,” he didn’t look at Landon when he corrected himself, “helped me find words for some of the challenges I had been facing in relationships. It’s important to me that my future partner understand more about where I’m coming from and some of the struggles I bring with me to any partnership.”

Draco heard the words but couldn’t imagine being so calm saying them. The idea that one could just put themselves out there to another person, to the entire world. Draco glanced again at the camera. Draco remembered how red Susan’s eyes were when she left, how she must have opened up and shared something truly personal. Landon and Harry were trying to create space for Draco to feel comfortable doing exactly that.

There was absolutely no situation where Draco would remotely be comfortable giving them what they wanted. Which meant Harry was absolutely not going to see Draco as an emotionally mature romantic partner.

Oh hell. Draco pulled his hands back out so he could twist his fingers together.

“My parents loved me,” Draco said just to Harry. Landon was a stranger and it made Draco uncomfortable to think of any strangers.

That got through to Harry, but maybe not in the way Draco was supposed to be doing. Harry seemed to close off, as if reminding him of Lucius and Narcissa accomplished everything Pansy had warned Draco about.

“Nothing in this analysis is meant to imply differently,” Landon tried to reassure.

“My parents loved me,” Draco said more insistently, once again staring at Harry.

“I know, Draco,” he finally said. “Your mother saved my life and lied to Voldermort,” Draco tried very hard to restrain his flinch at the name, “because she loved you.”

Draco nodded a bit too forcefully. “Right.” He didn’t know why it was reassuring that Harry understood that his relationship with his parents wasn’t horrible. Maybe he just needed to hear it before he could rush out, “Anyway, I got the anxious one, so something is wrong with me anyway.”

“Draco,” Landon started to soothe but it was Harry who waved them off.

“I figure there’s plenty wrong with both of us,” Harry offered. “But this week is problem solving week. Not being perfect week. And what I’ve been working on is to just keep talking with folks when there are problems, you know? Then we can work out how to solve them together.”

Maybe it was just what Harry was saying to everyone, but sitting so close to him, staring deep into Harry’s eyes, Draco thought maybe Harry meant it just for him.

Saturday

Oddly, Draco wasn’t given Interview Room time. He was left to stew in his anxieties for the entire day, barely choosing to leave his room at all.

Was this a good week? Would Harry think it was a good week? It had been daunting, on Draco’s end, but once he finally had time with Harry he thought it had gone alright. Harry had made a point of including him on Friday. That had to be a good sign. It had to be.

Even if Saturday had veered off course again.

Draco dressed with special care. He needed to look his very best. No matter the odds, he had to give it his best until the very end.

He tried to keep himself steady when the production assistants lined everyone up in the throne room. They put him in the back again, off to the side once more. He bounced on the balls of his feet while he waited and promised himself it was okay that no one ever wanted to give him space for Harry to see him. He had been seen. He had!

Draco tried to wait patiently. They all waited. Time moved by unusually slow. Or perhaps not slow. Perhaps just far more time than it normally took.

“Who the hell is messing with the schedule?” Rae roared as she stomped out onto the set. Pansy popped out of the dark expanse of the room where PAs hid themselves to point at another door. The door Harry and Lee always entered through. “Lee! You stuck up centaur excrement!” Rae continued shouting increasingly creative insults as she marched across the room and slammed open the door.

Harry was just coming out of it, disheveled and red faced. “Sorry we’re late,” he bit out, not sounding apologetic.

“Harry, come back. We have to film the scene,” Lee was all but begging. He was dressed with his usual flair in a pink sports jacket, but he didn’t carry any of his trademark charm.

Harry whirled to glare at his friend. “Do we?” He asked. “Do we have to film it that way?” Harry turned around and turned the glare on the PAs who were far more visible than usual because they’d snuck closer to watch the outburst first hand. None of the contestants could blame them. Everyone was gawking. “Do I have to do everything Lee scripts for me, or is this my show that I’m allowed to do the way I want?”

“Harry,” Lee said, hands on his hips.

“Don’t you ‘Harry’ me right now,” Harry warned.

“It was just a suggestion!” Lee finally broke and yelled back. Draco’s eyes widened. He looked around to see if Pansy was reacting, but somehow caught Roshni’s eyes instead. They were as huge as his, and perhaps a bit more gleeful to be witnessing what should have been a private breakdown.

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but it was exactly then that he realized exactly how many people were watching. He closed his mouth and took a moment to try to straighten his outfit. It was the sort of thing a PA would normally do backstage, but they’d clearly not gotten that far. Draco could see Harry warring with himself over how to finish this argument. “I’m making the call tonight.” Was all he said in the end. Then he walked over to one of the PAs gawking and very kindly asked them to help him get camera ready.

They did not film Harry and Lee’s grand entrance that evening. The Rose Ceremony started with both men in front of the contestants. Lee’s charm was dialed up all the way as he thanked everyone for doing their best to show Harry how they’d tackle problems that would come up in any relationship.

Then it was Harry’s turn to speak. He gingerly picked up one of the nine roses he had left. He stared at it for a long moment, his brows furrowed as he thought. He looked up at all his suitors who waited with baited breath. Then he glanced at Lee, and for just a moment his eyes narrowed.

When he looked back at the contestants he was smiling, even if it didn’t reach his eyes. Even if it wasn’t the smile that lit up his eyes and made Draco’s stomach flutter.

Whatever his fight with Lee had been was hanging over him something fierce. Draco shifted nervously, wondering what it meant. Wondering if it was bad news.

“Draco,” was a name that Harry could not have possibly said, but somehow he had, “will you take this rose?”