Wix Ever After

Sunday

Draco had thought last week would be the end of being woken up bloody early but he was wrong. This time Pansy escalated the situation by throwing a duffle bag at him and demanding he pack. She wouldn’t budge and say more. Draco tried to pack one of everything before he was swept out of the room by his best friend and/or tyrant.

It got worse.

Draco had almost adjusted his worldview to consider he was the sort of wizard who could casually ride a bus, but this metal bird contraption was a step too far. Draco might have thrown a fit, except Everett was already doing that. Draco had second hand shame just watching. It was like being transported back to his Hogwarts days when he was too good for everything. He knew better now. So, he squared his shoulders, walked up the rickety stairs, and boarded the muggle death trap.

Merlin, he apparated more smoothly than the machine could fly.

Hours into the trip, Draco was called back to a special section they’d cordoned off for his turn at a testimonial. They hit turbulence right as he walked in and he had to grab for the ceiling to keep his balance.

“What, not gonna trash talk the transportation?” asked Lee, who was sitting with Pansy. He’d taken off the pink sports court he wore when he greeted everyone outside the aircraft and made a big to-do about a romantic getaway.

“Love trying new things,” Draco gritted out for the camera as he took his spot.

Lee’s lips quirked. “Sure ya do, lovebird.” He was dressed in all black, with the knees ripped out of his muggle jeans, and with two empty cups at his elbow that Draco guessed had once held coffee.

“What Lee is trying to say,” a pale and pasty Pansy cut in, “Is how are you enjoying your flight?” Now that Draco thought about it she looked a bit yellow green around the edges.

“Doing better than you, I think.”

Lee snorted. “Everyone’s doing better than Pans.”

“Shut your hole, Lee,” Pansy growled, “or I will shut it for you.”

“You do remember I’m your boss, don’t you?”

“Rae’s my boss,” Pansy retorted.

“I’m Rae’s boss,” Lee countered.

“Go on,” Pansy goaded, “Tell Rae what to do.”

At that, Lee admitted defeat. He looked around him and sure enough he found another cup that was somehow filled with caffeine. “Let’s get some footage. Draco, tell us how sad you are that Silas is out for the count.”

“Pardon?”

“We need someone to say something sappy. You’re up.”

Draco blinked a couple times at being put on the spot. “I’m very sad Silas is gone.”

“That was shit.” Pansy didn’t bother pulling her punches.

Draco glared. “Well I’m on this death machine being barked at, apologies I’m not up to your standards.”

Lee rolled his eyes and tried again. “You think you got a chance at winning now that one of the biggest competitors is out?”

“Oh,” Draco said, taken aback. He gulped, worried about how quickly Lee threw him into a different narrative bucket. “Silas was the first contestant to be kind to me on the show,” Draco deliberately went back to Lee’s first instruction. “Last week was… well, it wasn’t the first time Silas was there for me. And it was never about me. That’s just how they were, they always treated everyone kindly. I’m going to miss them.” Lee and Pansy allowed the pause after this to linger long enough for Draco to have and share another thought. “I can’t imagine what must have happened between them and Harry for Harry to send them home.”

“Are you worried Harry will send you home?” Pansy asked. She didn’t have her note cards today. She’d given up the security of being scripted.

“I’m always worried Harry will send me home.”

“That’s bleak,” Lee chimed in. “Don’t you think he’s keen on you?”

Draco shifted his weight under him. “If Harry could send Silas home, then no one’s safe.” The plain rumbled again and Draco clenched at the armrests at either side. “Or maybe it’s just no one is safe riding in this contraption.”

-

The flight went on for ages. Literal ages. Long enough that there was a dedicated chunk of time for Sol and Marcus to explain to everyone that yes, this is how muggles traveled. At least when traveling across continents, which they must be doing based on the time they were in the air. And as wild as strapping yourself into a metal tube was, Sol insisted it was both safer than magic about one fourth the price of a long-range portkey, so if you had the time to spare it was the wiser choice. It did not feel like the wiser choice. Not after nine hours, an achy back, and another round of flip flopping stomach when the plane descended and landed with a loud, jarring thud.

Escaping the plane would have felt amazing even if they’d found themself back in London where it all started, but this was something else all together.

They were on a long strip of tarmac. To one side were rolling hills of trees Draco didn’t recognize. To the other, off in the distance, was a line of sparkling blue. Warm wind brought salt air and the promise of the sea.

Lee was again waiting for them, now changed into a short-sleeved linen shirt in cream and slim pink shorts. Large, pink sunglasses were pushed back up on his head and he was grinning merrily as he welcomed the crowd. “Welcome to Saint Vincent and the Grenadines! Our tropical paradise getaway for the next week.” Rene was the geography master of the bunch and excitedly explained that they’d flown across the Atlantic, all the way to the Caribbean! “Gather round darlings,” Lee announced as he held out a big red, plastic heart. Everyone took a hold. Thank fuck it was a Portkey, and they got to skip yet another round of muggle transport to land smack dab in the middle of what must be one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

They all stood on a sun drenched golden beach, on the edge of a lush forest, next to the crystal-clear turquoise of the ocean. Draco held an arm out to block out the bright rays as he twirled to take it all in. He had the urge to take off his trainers and socks so he could dig his toes into the sand.

Before he could, he and the rest of the contestants had to follow Lee down the beach a bit, likely so the cameras could get a good dose of establishing shots of everyone trucking through sand in their out of place travel clothes, but before long they reached a dock that jutted out into the water. It curled as you walked, allowing uninterrupted views of the sun glinting on water that was a shade of blue Draco didn’t even think magic could conjure. Together they reached the end of the deck, which expanded in two directions into a sort of loop where offshoots connected the main path to little bungalows floating on top of the water. Draco looked at the shape closer. Not just a loop, a heart.

It was surreal for Draco to receive a key to his own bungalow, which wasn’t so little on the inside. Magical extensions made room for a full suite, complete with a kitchen and living area with a muggle television (that was turned on to display advertisements for MAGE TV). A glass door led to his own private, ocean-facing patio where he could directly dive into the water if he wished to. He chose instead to explore inside, and followed the first door into the most luxurious room with a four poster king-sized bed, and a jacuzzi style tub big enough for two people.

Draco clutched his key as he took in the reality that he’d been deposited into a paradise honeymoon suite, without the marriage first to make all the details actually romantic.

Unless, of course, Harry visited. Draco blushed bright red at the thought of popping the complimentary bottle of champagne left out for him while taking a romantic bath with Harry Potter.

-

They were gathered back on the beach. It felt like evening, but the sun was still bright in the sky thanks to the time difference. Thankfully, a whole new wardrobe had been waiting for each of them. Draco’s had a note from Dominque with instructions on which items went together, and a note from Pansy reminding him not to be a prude. So Draco was now dressed in (too short) shorts and a pale blue long-sleeved button down, lightweight enough that it wasn’t oppressive in the heat. He wore it unbuttoned over a tank top, with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

The theater room experience had been recreated right there on the beach, with a large screen set up in front of a row of reclining beach chairs. Draco tucked into an array of seafood finger foods, melt in your mouth delicious.

Magic dimmed the light around the screen enough that everyone could see clearly when the theme song started and the castle swooped into view.

A whole new sound roared out from the screen after the intro. It was one Draco had gotten quite acquainted with over the last week - the roar of hundreds of fans. The camera angle changed and there was the same interview studio the contestants had visited Tuesday. Draco thought it must have been pre-recorded on their public interview day, since Lee was there, but Lee was dressed in his pink sports coat from earlier today, and Elowen was there in a different outfit, too.

“We’re recording live from the Witch Weekly studio!” Lee announced in his jovial booming voice, “with Harry Potter!”

The camera panned again, and the crowd went wild as Harry walked out on stage, mostly smiling as he waved to his fans.

“Harry!” Elowen beamed at him. “It’s so wonderful to finally have you on the show.”

The smile mostly didn’t crack. “Contractually obligated to be here,” Harry said, and everyone but him laughed like he was joking.

“What a week!” Lee smoothly transitioned the conversation. “Before we all watch it together, do you have any thoughts you want to share about why you chose this week’s theme?”

When Harry turned to Lee he was able to relax just a smidge. He always eased up in their one-on-one interviews, as if it wasn’t so hard to spill his guts when he was just chatting with a friend. “Try as I might, I can’t escape being in the public eye. Not unless I was willing to move overseas and give up on a wizarding life. We’re over halfway through the show now, and I needed to know who among the contestants left can handle the pressure.”

“Your adoring fans appreciate being a part of your love story, Harry,” Elowen added. If it wasn’t airing live, the producers would probably have edited out Harry’s disdainful stare.

“It’s a love story we’re here for tonight,” Lee cut in smoothly, “so let’s get it started!”

The camera shifted angles again, and Draco realized they had a large screen set up in their space not too different than the one on the beach. The camera focused on it until the image smoothly transitioned to just the footage.

Draco had almost forgotten the emotional shock of Roshni voluntarily leaving the show, but it came back in a flood as he heard Everett and Marcus unpack being saved for one more chance with Harry.

There wasn’t much time for commentary, because so much happened in this episode. The story dived right into a photoshoot montage. The cameras caught Rene explaining to the photography set designer what her gram’s kitchen had looked like, then Marcus trying to explain to a pure blood wizard how football kits did not resemble quidditch. They played the scene of Draco and Pansy going in depth about exactly how to design a fairy crown, with Pansy mostly edited out of the shot, which would have made Draco look a bit daft if Dominique hadn’t arrived and launched into the same frenzied attention to detail.

Each photography session was carved down to less than a minute. It was plenty of time to see Harry grow frustrated with Everett when he couldn’t answer why the charity was so important to him. More than enough time to see Sol and Harry flirt, how Sol’s photoshoot featured quite a lot more of the two men lounging off each other than the photo ultimately selected for the magazine. It felt like eons to Draco as he watched his own face on the screen, the way they captured how Draco and Harry both felt awkward posing until they locked eyes and you could feel the spark zing between them.

The montage faded away at the end, and the noise of the crowd cheering brought everyone back to the present.

“Wow, Harry! You put in so much work to make those magnificent photos,” Elowen gushed. “What takeaways can you share with all of us about the photoshoots?”

“Thank the makeup technicians,” said Harry. “The amount of work it takes to stop me looking exhausted. I hope Lee gives them a bonus after all that.” The audience laughed again but this time Harry smiled with them.

Lee ha-haed good naturedly. “We’re thankful to our sponsors for making the show possible,” he said. Then, with the charm that allowed him to make anything sound natural, he added, “Why don’t we take a look behind the scenes of Witch Weekly’s best performing interviews ever?”

The screen flashed back to Tuesday. There were establishing shots of the audience lined up to get into the studio, and wix checking their wands and cell phones to maintain maximum secrecy. Behind the scenes, the constants arrived and were marched into the studio and provided instructions on what to expect. To separate it from the interviews everyone had apparently already seen, there were more shots than normal of PAs giving advice on how to stay calm in the limelight and talk to a crowd. The actual interview footage was brief. There would be a line, the audience reaction, then footage backstage from how the other contestants were taking it.

Draco hadn’t realized Everett was so nervous. Apparently he had a big fear of public speaking and his PA had to talk him out of quitting altogether. Sol looked angry when the audience member asked Rene invasive questions and Draco got to see how later on in his interview he brought it up and told that person they should be ashamed of themself.

Draco… they spent far more time on Draco than he would have liked. They showed his fidgets. They showed the broken button. They showed his face more panicked than he remembered it, and Silas soothing him before it was his turn to go onstage. There was a fast and heavy montage of all the questions about his Death Eater past, followed by Draco storming off the stage and into Pansy’s arms. Fuck, they showed how he ran away from Harry after. How he slammed the lavatory door on the camera and didn’t come out. All drama and self pity.

It was hard to take in the rest of the interviews when buried under the shame of falling apart so completely in public.

“I’ve never watched an episode before,” Harry told the crowd after seeing all that. “This is a different side of them, for sure.”

“What makes it different?” Lee asked before Elowen could determine her own question.

Harry paused thoughtfully. “We all try to put our best foot forward to make a good impression. It’s kind of nice to see how they just are, you know?”

“Is it changing your view on anyone?” Elowen asked.

Harry’s smile didn’t quite flatten out but he didn’t like the question. “No.”

Lee transitioned focus back to the show.

There was no footage of Draco, but quite a lot of footage of everyone talking about him. Rene hoping he was alright, Sol saying how he probably wasn’t up to what marrying Harry required, Susan absolutely not saying Draco got what he deserved. Silas cut them all off to remind them Draco was an actual person and they should give him grace and respect when he’s sick. In the confessional, Marcus opined that Draco was being overly dramatic. He wondered if Draco was doing it for attention. Susan did look particularly smug, when she was invited in Draco’s place to a ministry gala and got to be Harry’s public date.

Draco wondered if that was really where Harry had planned to take him. If he would have shown up to the ministry with a Death Eater on his arm where the officials would have to make small talk as if the war had never happened.

Thursday was another montage of crowds queuing up, then the flood of fans holding their Witch Weekly copies. More time was spent highlighting the magazine then the fan/contestant interaction. Then more time was spent with contestant reactions when they were told they couldn’t go back out after taking a break. The show didn’t paint Draco and Silas as winners. If anything, it took time to highlight how important it was for folks to make time for themselves, as if explaining to the audience that it was okay when someone wasn’t there to share their signature with you.

“Why did you choose to include the signature challenge, Harry?” Elowen asked, completely missing the point.

Harry sighed. “It wasn’t a challenge.”

“I think it’s a heartwarming message for your future spouse,” Lee stepped in to smooth things over, “making sure they know you’d rather they take care of themselves.”

Harry looked to Lee like he was a lifeline. “Yes, exactly. It’s hard because you don’t want to upset anyone, but you’ll burn yourself out if you don’t set boundaries.”

Elowen fiddled with her glasses as she considered the point. “Are you saying the two left in the end failed, then?”

Harry scoffed. “Hardly. Silas is a professional, they probably knew exactly what they were doing and didn’t even push their limits.”

“And Draco?” Elowen asked pointedly.

This time Harry’s laugh was genuine. “He’s just always been stubborn.”

Lee let that hang there, unexplained, when he directed Friday to be brought up on screen.

The producers were very thoughtful about how they showed the hospital footage, very intentionally never putting the image of a child on screen. It was mostly the colorful decorations and the occasional sound of laughter, and Harry talking with all the contestants about the volunteer experience, with a final announcement about how other people can donate or volunteer to benefit St. Mungos patients.

Friday evening was the party. Draco wondered if it was as odd for Harry as it was for him to see himself up on the screen. Draco relived the photo contest results, this time with reactions shared between each reveal. A clearly intoxicated Everett sobbed after about how he was definitely going home that week. A rosy-cheeked Susan said she would have been first if it wasn’t for the celebrities hijacking the vote.

The final reveal was Harry and Silas hiding back near the kitchen, very deliberately not yelling while Harry grilled Silas over why they hadn’t volunteered at the children’s hospital. Silas firmly repeated that they had just needed some space, but wouldn’t budget when Harry insisted they explain why. Harry said over and over again how important the cause was to him, and how much it meant that everyone was willing to help out. He pointed out many of those children would have been fans of Silas and their presence would have been very special. Silas seemed to shut down the more questions Harry asked, until they completely crumbled under Harry’s accusing question of whether Silas was even willing to do something kind for people who weren’t their fans.

“Wow, Harry, that looked very intense,” Elowen said in her most caring tone. “What was going through your mind during that discussion?”

Harry stared at the floor in front of him, avoiding the question as hard as Draco had ever avoided anything. “I’d rather we just move on.”

Even having seen the argument, it was a shock to everyone when Harry left Silas without a rose.

Lee did his best to build the energy back up in the room. He was good at what he did, and before long the audience was cheering their thank yous to Elowen and Witch Weekly for hosting the show that week. He grinned his big grin at the camera one final time, and invited everyone to join Wix Ever After again next Sunday when the entire cast is transported on a magical, romantic getaway. He held up the same red plastic heart that Draco had touched just a few hours before. The portkey ignited, yanking Lee and Harry out of the studio and towards the show.

Monday

Someone was knocking on Draco’s door. He figured it was someone from production so he didn’t think twice as he got up and answered.

No, it was Harry Potter.

Draco took a side step to hide behind his door and shoved his uncovered left arm behind his back.

Harry looked different today. He’d dressed down more than he’d been allowed thus far on the show, wearing running shorts and a ratty old t-shirt. He wore quality flip-flops, showing off unevenly tanned feet and nobby toes. It made Draco wonder if this was what Harry looked like when you woke up next to him.

“Good morning, Draco.” Harry’s smile was apologetic. “I know it’s early yet, I just saw your lights were on.”

They were. The time change was messing with Draco’s head and he’d been up before the sun. “No worries,” Draco rushed to assure Harry. “It’s nice to see you.” That won Draco a more enthusiastic smile. Draco swooned as Harry directed his radiant happiness towards him.

“Would it be alright if I came in?” Harry asked.

Draco had a moment of panic as his mind cataloged every single thing out of place behind him, along with the fact he was still in his shorts. “Of course!” The nerves made him chipper. Draco opened his door wider, stepping with the door to keep himself half hidden. “Just… let me…” Draco made a come in gesture, then realized he was using his left hand and there were cameras floating behind Harry that definitely had a clear view of the Mark. “I’ll be right back,” he bit out before he fled to the bedroom. He didn’t have the time to go through Dominique's meticulous notes to select the perfect outfit, so he just panicked and threw on the luxurious chiffon dressing gown that the resort provided.

Draco was reminded that this was clearly a honeymoon suite when he stepped back into the main room and Harry looked up at him, and paused to stare long and hard at Draco draped in the light-weight silk that fell only to mid thigh and was definitely the sort of cover you’d wear before taking someone to bed.

Harry cleared his throat and looked away, his eyes jumping to anything and everything that might distract him. “It’s tidy here,” Harry marveled.

“Only been here a day,” Draco pointed out.

Harry walked deeper into the room, his eyes taking in the neatly stacked notes on a side table and the freshly washed dishes from Draco’s breakfast. “I bet you’re just the tidy sort.”

That made Draco snort. “I bet your suite’s already a mess.”

“You caught me.” Harry’s eyes twinkled when he cast Draco a mischievous grin. He’d circled around the room, noting Draco’s breakfast still out on the patio before strolling over to Draco’s bedroom door. He nodded to it. “Can I go in?” Of course he could, so he did.

It was just as tidy in Draco’s room, with his clothes properly hung in the closest or put away in drawers. Draco had even made his bed. Harry’s eyes scanned everything, taking in all the details without lingering on any one, except…

Harry walked right over to the vanity table where Draco had set the two notes that came with his clothes. Harry leaned over to read both. Draco could see the exact moment when he raised his eyebrows, but a question over Pansy’s note never came.

Draco cleared his throat nervously anyway. “Is this about what you said on the show? About seeing a different side of us.”

Harry turned around and leaned back to perch on top of the vanity. “How weird is it that they make you watch the episodes each week?” he asked in lieu of an answer.

Draco licked his lips, ever aware of censoring himself for the cameras. Then he realized Harry had shown up here unannounced because he wanted to see some part of Draco that wasn’t censored for the cameras. “It makes you very aware of every word you say,” was Draco’s happy medium.

“And everything you wear?”

Draco wrapped his dressing gown tighter around him. “Oh, I mostly didn’t have any strategy for that, but my new stylist is very committed.”

“Dominique is clever.”

“You know him?”

“Sure.” Harry sighed. “I met all the staff before agreeing to do this. Lee was very accommodating, made sure I’d feel comfortable.”

“Pansy got through your review?” Draco couldn’t help the surprise.

“Pansy…” Harry’s voice trailed off. “Pretty sure she went out of her way to make sure I didn’t recognize her. Introduced herself as Penthesilea?”

Draco actually snorted. “Sure, that’s her name.”

Now both Harry's brows shot up. “What type of name is Penthesilea?”

Draco tried to hold back his smile. “Queen of the Amazon. Great warrior. Has no patience for men.” It was comfortable banter. Natural, almost.

“Ah, fitting.” Harry lounged a bit more against the furniture. His fingers gripped its edges as he stretched backwards, his muscles taunt and eye catching. “Of course she’s been with you since the beginning. Dominique keeps bouncing around. They get bonuses the longer their contestant is in the race, and he’s got a knack for jumping ship right before I send someone home.”

Draco tilted his head, taking in the information from several angles before asking, “Does he know your heart that well?”

It was obvious when Harry’s face closed off, some part of him shutting down at the question. His striking smile no longer reached his eyes. “It’s quite a lot, figuring my heart out.”

Draco’s own heart was suddenly beating faster. He could feel Harry getting ready to leave, but he’d only just got there. “You’ve got time to sort it,” Draco said to comfort him, as if it were possible to calm Harry’s nerves before he skittered away. “Don’t worry about that now. Come have breakfast with me instead.”

Harry sat remarkably still, staring without giving anything away. “Someone will probably be coming for me soon, wanting to talk schedules.”

The thought of Harry leaving Draco to talk schedules put a particularly rough weight in Draco’s stomach. “Come have breakfast anyway,” he insisted. He did his best not to show how much he needed Harry to say yes. How after seven weeks on the show he still didn’t feel confident that Harry actually felt anything for him at all. Or how his nerves were fried from constant scrutiny and fear of rejection.

Those green eyes were gorgeous, unknowable orbs. They peered at Draco, maybe seeing everything Draco wanted to hide. How much Draco needed this. Harry took his time deciding.

“I can stay for a little while.”

Hardly a decoration of love, but Draco’s heart soared.

-

Schedules wait for no suitor, and when Pansy arrived with Draco’s Harry had to leave. They met up again only an hour later, both dressed in their tropical finest, smothered in magical sunscreen, ready to traipse across the water in a magic-propelled boat while a wizard-guide spouted history.

Pirate history. So much pirate history.

The muggle sort, about famous movie filming locations and the muggle history behind it, and the much better wizard tales about anti-colonial mermaids chasing British wizards off the island any time they tried to settle it, while making a killing selling their ill-gotten booty. To this day, the only wizards on the islands were the descendants of slaves, brought over from Africa, and the guide offered a serious warning to be careful when taking to the sea.

Sol led the charge in getting photographs at famous places, “it’s the arch!” he shouted about a black rocky arch jutting out of the water, apparently featured in one of Sol’s favorite muggle films. He was equally excited by “Port Royal” - and being led around by the tour guide to see the actual historic site.

They broke for lunch (which felt like dinner thanks to the five hour time difference) at the top of a rock fort. It was a bitch to climb up the steep steps, many broken and unpassable for muggles, but the top showcased original muggle cannons and a panoramic view of the island and ocean. Simply breathtaking.

Draco authentically was able to embrace the magnitude of even being there, surrounded by nature and history. He didn’t even mind that Harry, Marcus and Sol would burst into laughter, shouting lines from a movie Draco had never seen. Rene, equally in the dark, sat next to Draco and stared into the distance, cementing the moment in her memory, because it was unlike anything they’d ever see again.

Tuesday

Life in the Wix Ever After castle was primarily killing time while you waited for a challenge or for Harry to gift you with special attention. That was nothing like this trip - which offered a dream vacation that Draco would have loved and appreciated even back when his family was rich and respected.

They started the morning by visiting the 20-acre botanical garden park, which had Draco legitimately giddy. Today’s guide was muggle, and a testament to the magicless community as he spouted fact after fact about the oldest botanical garden in the Western Hemisphere. Draco peered at every plant, and to the guide’s delight he asked informed questions and inspired the guide to dig even further into his herbology knowledge. It warmed Draco’s heart to be able to view the broad collection of tropical flora and fauna, from flamboyant, mahogany to breadfruit trees.

Draco hardly thought of Harry and the other suitors, trailing steps behind with either amusement or frustration. He thought of his mother. How much he wished he could be here with her. How much he missed her garden, which he had never been able to properly tend.

They lunched in Kingstown, at an out of the way seafood shop where Draco tried buljol, a fresh salad with shredded saltfish, peppers, tomatoes, and more. Marcus had lobster, and they each shared a bite of their meal with the other to further the experience.

Draco didn’t mind that Harry shared his food with Susan and Rene. He didn’t mind how beautiful Harry looked with either woman, with the sun beaming down and the majesty of the beach in the background. If jealousy dared to twinge he just took a deep breath of salt air and looked around at the colorful buildings and awe-inspiring ocean. He never thought he would be able to have anything like this ever again.

Wednesday

Draco considered himself fit. He had to be, with all the hands-on work he did for the manor and surrounding lands. His tenants were families who’d worked the land for hundreds of years, all pureblood wizards in their own right. They didn’t set out to take advantage. It was just that Draco understood how much he owed them. How much his family owed them after Voldermort’s reign of Malfoy lands. So, when needs must, Draco traveled to the farms and lent his own body, his own magic, to get the work done. He could handle hard work.

But he’d never before climbed a fucking mountain.

Sorry, a fucking volcano.

The tour guide was dark ebony from time in the sun, with calves of steel from how frequently he climbed up the summit. He pointed out notable fauna, like begonia flowers growing in bare volcanic soil. Draco did not care about the brilliant adonis-figure leading them forward, he cared about how this hike was an absolutely horrible idea.

Of course Sol was a hiker. The sort who used breaks to look back at how far they came and exclaim about the view and the once in a lifetime experience. It was hard to tell if Rene or Everett were less prepared for the activity. They seemed to have banded together to ask for breaks so neither one had to stand out as holding the entire group back. Susan had Draco’s idea of holding out just long enough for someone else to call break, before collapsing in on herself and heaving for air and water.

Draco wanted to say it was all worth it once they reached the peak. Traveling up 1,220 meters did give you unparalleled views, and he was certain the cameras circling them would share with the world the magnitude of the experience. Draco tried to look over the landscape and feel accomplished. He tried to center himself and find the peace he’d so easily embraced on the ocean.

Before he could get there, the unmistakable voice of Lee Jordan nearly made Draco jump out of his skin. “Darlings, are you having the time of your lives?”

Fuck every contestant that wrangled the energy to respond with enthusiasm.

Especially when Lee’s eyes glinted wickedly and Draco just knew it was about to get worse.

“La Soufriere is one of the most active volcanoes in the world. While its lava can be devastating, it also enriches the soil that fuels the island’s awe-inspiring native plants and creates the unforgettable black-sand beaches. But,” he held the pause there, drawing out suspense until the contestants leaned forward, eager to know what was coming, “that's just what the muggles can see. Native wizards' rock paintings record an even more stunning discovery - the labes salamandra Caribbaeus, or Caribbean lava salamander. These magical beasts were once a threat even to dragons, and can only be found in this region of the world.” There was that twinkle in his eye again. “Would you like to meet one?”

The contestants all glanced at one another as if one of them had the explanation. Lee wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. Then he swooped around, and with a dramatic wave of his wand the air seemed to shift in front of them. Suddenly, whatever strong disillusionment charm had been cast faded, and Draco and all of the other contestants were able to see what was in store for them.

Right in the middle of the crater at the top of the volcano, there was a hole. Steam gushed out of it. The sort of steam that came from somewhere very, very hot. Three men stood around the opening, adjusting some sort of equipment. Draco shifted nervously. He looked behind him, down the mountain, as if it were possible to make a run for it without anyone noticing.

“Which of you love birds wants to take a shot at flying into a volcano?”

Unfortunately, right when all the cameras zoomed around to capture their reactions, Draco couldn’t keep his grimace off his face.

Marcus rubbed his hands together in excitement. “Wicked.” He was already stepping forward to volunteer.

Only, Everett rushed to beat him to it. “Me!” He all but shouted. His jaw was set in determination and he had a hand raised high in the air as if wanting to be called on in school. As if he was worried he wasn’t getting good enough marks and wanted to make up for it right before term’s end. Or, as Draco was all too familiar with, he was jealous someone else was getting all the teacher’s attention.

“Everett it is!” Lee announced. Then he beckoned everyone forward so they could all huddle around and watch Everett get strapped into a complex, aggressively-charmed harness. It was all runes and even more ancient symbols to ward off heat. Draco started to imagine exactly how hot it would need to be to warrant so many layers of protection, then he stopped imagining and turned away so he wouldn’t have to watch. He wrapped his arms around himself and held tight when everyone started counting down. Ten, nine, eight.

Merlin’s balls, Everett was going to jump. He was actually going to do it.

Seven, six, five.

Draco was too aware how it would look if he plugged up his ears so he wouldn’t have to hear. Who did that? How childish would it be?

Four, three, two.

Fuck. Draco had to look. Not, like, for his own sake. What he had to do for his own sake is bid farewell to the lot of them and throw himself off the mountain. It’d be a bad way to go, but not as bad as…

One.

Everett leaped. Draco’s mouth hung open, because holy shit he did it. Marcus and Susan were leaning forward as far as they were allowed to try to watch Everett fall all the way into the volcano’s depths. Echoes of Everett’s shout could be heard in his wake, setting Draco’s teeth on edge. When he hit… something. A burst of fire-hot air jutted from the hole and slammed into everyone there.

Draco jumped backwards on reflex. He gasped, which made him suck in hot air, and so he gasped again. He nearly stumbled as he turned away and marched off a handful of steps, yanking in desperate, shallow breaths until the air around him cooled enough to cool his head.

“You alright there, Draco?”

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Lee’s voice. “Fine!” It was too high pitched to convince anyone.

“You sure? Seemed a little disoriented back there.” Lee nodded at the crowd of people not watching Draco. They were watching Everett blast out of a second hole in the crater, a dozen or so yards away from the first. The runes and sigils shined bright white, successfully keeping Everett from burning to a crisp.

“No, no,” Draco insisted. “The hot air was a little surprising, is all, but now that I know to expect it I’ll be fine.”

Lee tilted his head to the side. There was a glint in his eyes that reminded Draco of no-nonsense, producer Lee, instead of the playful show host. “There’s no shame if you sit this one out.”

Only Harry was currently over there with the crowd, helping Susan into her magic harness.

Draco took a deep breath and forced on his charming smile. Maybe that is what Lee would choose to put in the episode, instead of his very minor, very little, very unexceptional panic. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

Thank Merlin Draco didn’t actually have to immediately do this. Everyone else had queued up, and his diversion left him last in line. It was nice, because he was avoiding the problem. But also it was bad, because anticipation made his blood run hot with fear. It didn’t help that it was irrational. He watched each and every other contestant jump into the volcano and be pulled through a loop and out the other side. He would be fine.

He would be fine.

He would be…

Of fuck, it was his turn to put the harness on.

Draco stood as still as possible, only moving limbs as directed. It was not dissimilar to following his father’s instructions when the Dark Lord went on a rampage. There were straps everywhere, constraining him. There was some sort of clear mask strapped over his face, with a tube pumping in air. The tube didn’t look as sturdy as Draco would like, seeing how if it broke he would definitely die. He was so terrified he hardly managed a stilted “Thank you” when the handlers were done. Draco could see one of them talking, but there was a ringing in his ears. He remembered, though, how every other contestant had been led up to the edge of the entrance. He took small, careful steps, as far as he could, and then he stopped.

Down there, not far enough away, was churning orange molten lava. The glow of it was hazy, otherworldly. The heat of it felt like magic. A hungry, sinister magic. Unyielding. Insatiable.

Like Fiendfyre.

Exactly like Fiendfyre.

If Draco went down there it would eat him. It would devour him whole. Like Vincent.

“Hey,” someone’s hands were on Draco’s arms, pulling him back from the edge. “Draco?”

Draco blinked as long as it took to realize he couldn’t see over the edge anymore, he’d been pulled that far back. He turned to look at the hand holding his arms. Harry’s. “S-sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for,” Harry said kindly. He rubbed Draco’s arms a little, to be reassuring.

Oh fuck, he was going to let Draco skip this event. Everyone else would have done it, but Harry would be gracious and forgive Draco for being scared. Draco’s heart pounded harder than it had when he saw the lava. He couldn’t chicken out. He couldn’t be sent home because of some irrational fear.

Draco pulled forward a bit, encouraging Harry to let go. “I’m ready now,” he lied, but he made it sound firm.

Harry didn’t loosen his grip. “You don’t have to do this.”

Draco swallowed. “I want to. When will I ever get to see a lava salamander again? I bet Hagrid hasn’t even seen one.”

If anything, Harry’s fingers squeezed harder. “Draco.” He said it in a tone Draco couldn’t place. Then Harry sighed. “Just wait a moment, yeah?” Waiting, Draco could do. He tried not to look too eager when he nodded.

Harry strode back over to the men operating the equipment and exchanged the briefest of words. Then, quick and confident, he put on his own harness. Harry returned to Draco in full lava-diving gear.

Harry held out his hand. “Let’s go together.”

Standing at the edge of a volcano felt different holding Harry’s hand. The churn of the lava still conjured terror, but Harry squeezed hard and Draco felt centured. Harry took a half step closer to Draco, so their bodies were snug against each other. He slipped his hand out of Draco’s, and for one terrifying moment Draco thought Harry was abandoning him, but of course not. He was just wrapping his arm around Draco’s waist, pulling Draco in as close as he could.

Draco looked over at Harry, who stared back with eyes still striking even behind two panes of protective masks. “Ready?” Harry asked. Draco nodded jerkily. It was worth it to be on the receiving end of Harry’s most encouraging smile. “On three.”

A shorter countdown. Less time to panic. No time at all, really. Hardly a breath of air. Just enough time to wish he had longer, before Harry pushed off the ground, and Draco chose to let go and leap with him.

Draco could panic. Maybe he was panicking. Maybe that’s what twisting in the air so he could wrap both arms around Harry was. Draco clung to Harry as hard as he had that day on Harry’s broomstick, trusting that Harry would find a way out for them both before they were burned alive.

Then they hit the lava. It was closer to a solid mass than water, and so the men shouldn’t have breached the surface like diving into a pool. And yet. They flowed through the molten rock with ease, dragged along by a magic current that bubbled around them. The markings on their harness glowed bright, shining a purer light than the red lava. In its glow, the outline of an amphibian appeared over and over. Some small, like a hand, some as long as Draco’s leg. When the protective bubble pushed up against a creature, Draco could see its black body with deep red dots splattered across it. Draco reached out, suddenly curious to the feel of the smooth skin. The current swooped and curved and Draco was gone before he had the chance.

It was a hard landing back on the surface of the crater, although there was a pleasure to being tangled up in Harry’s limbs. As soon as he was free, Draco pulled off his mask and inhaled deep, fresh air. He lay on his back and stared at the sky, crystal clear blue and heartachingly beautiful. He had the sudden urge to share his relief with someone, anyone. Even as he had half a mind to talk someone into letting him dive again, to see if he could touch the creatures this time. When he looked around, Harry was there waiting. Draco grinned at him, and Harry grinned back.

“That was amazing,” Draco was amazed it was true.

Harry’s smile softened. “You’re amazing.”

Draco’s eyes widened. His smile slipped. Maybe the heat had gotten to Harry’s head, because a helpless, terrified Draco was so far from amazing he didn’t know where to start explaining how Harry was wrong.

But then, oh. Harry pulled his own mask off so he could roll over back into Draco’s space, and then he was kissing Draco. The softest brush of lips. The gentlest of celebrations.

-

“I figured it out,” Marcus announced.

Everett, Draco and Marcus were lounging in hammocks outside the resort’s bar, killing time while Harry went on a group date with the other contestants. Draco was drinking something sweet and rum based, with a twirly straw that was one part unnecessary and two parts delightful.

“I figured it out,” Marcus repeated, fishing for attention.

“Figured what out,” Everett asked, possibly interested and not just polite.

“Harry.”

Draco cocked a brow curiously while Everett looked enraptured.

“Go on,” Draco nudged. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“Been thinking Harry would want a tough, adventurous guy. You know, to keep up with him,” Marcus mused.

“I was tough today,” Everett chimed in, completely sloshed.

“But he hasn’t been giving that a go, at all. Then today, I got to thinking,” Marcus paused with the same dramatic flourish as Lee employed, and a sidelong rueful smile for Draco. “He’s the savior. He’s looking for someone soft and needy that he can save.”

Draco choked on his cocktail as he sputtered. “Don’t say things like that!” Draco scolded. Perhaps he was a bit sloshed, too, because he followed up unfiltered with “they’ll put it on tv!”

The damned smile on Marcus’s face had snuck passed rueful and into bitter. “You don’t want the world catching on to the game you’re playing?”

Draco scowled. “I’m not playing games.”

“Oh ya? Why did he choose you first in week five, do you think? Was it ‘cause he really likes you, or because he was pissy over the producers blocking you out of all the activities.” Hopefully it was too dark for the cameras to see the color drain out of Draco’s face. Marcus saw it. “Of course you have to martyr yourself after. Too nervous to kiss in public, spend your Interview Room time making out. The public is mean to you, get invited on a private date. What even was today? Afraid of heights? You gotta be doin’ it on purpose.”

Draco worked his jaw, trying to find some semblance of a response.

“Do you think Harry would want to save me?” Everett piped up unhelpfully.

Marcus’ laugh was mean. “He’s going to send you home.” Everett’s face fell. He looked like he might cry.

“Maybe Harry just doesn’t like you,” Draco snapped.

Everett actually sniffled. “Why doesn't he like me?”

“Not you,” Draco tried to backtrack, “Marcus.”

“I’m very likable,” Everett was still going. “Everyone likes me. The problem isn’t that I’m likeable, it’s that pure blood wizards aren’t gay.”

Draco didn’t know how this conversation got so off the rails. Draco was too fuzzy headed to right it, so instead he said the obvious. “Everett, you’re gay.”

“But I’m not supposed to be,” Everett cried.

“What the fuck, man,” said Marcus.

“And I’m gay,” added Draco.

“You’re allowed to be gay. Your parents are dead!”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Marcus cursed.

Draco tried very hard to stay still, but he was swinging in a hammock, clutching a cocktail so it wouldn’t spill. He wasn’t exactly sure what part of that he wanted to respond to but the buzzing in his head felt compelled to say, “My parents wouldn’t mind that I was gay.”

“Did you tell them?” Everett made it sound like a demand.

Draco found himself glaring before he realized he was angry. He felt the anger before he realized his heart hurt. He sat with the hurt a moment before he realized he never would get the chance to find out what his parents would have done had they known.

Draco tossed his cocktail on the ground to be rid of it. He twisted around, trying to get his legs out of the hammock to escape. Instead he got tangled, and his shifting just made the entire thing turn over, flopping him out hard onto the ground.

Marcus had already got out of his hammock like a normal, competent person. He reached over to Draco. “Let me help you up.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Draco actually yelled. He could push himself back up to his feet on his own. “I don’t fucking need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.” He’d forgotten there were cameras watching. Everett, the prick, made a noise, because he never had to learn not to draw attention to himself around angry wizards. “And you!” Everett’s eyes went wide when Draco looked at him. “Maybe you can get Harry to save you from your internalized homophobia, huh? Or whatever blood-purist bigotry you’re spouting?”

Everett’s face crumbled into tears. It was probably good Draco left his wand in his room. There was no telling what he might do with it in that moment. Instead he stomped off. He swatted at the camera that zoomed in close, not caring about what he’d done. Or at least not thinking about it.

Thursday

A day of distillery tours was not the follow up Draco wanted to going to bed drunk and waking up with a splitting headache. Blessedly, Pansy brought the potion to his room this time. Draco got up the nerve to ask how bad the footage was, but Pansy just told him to hush.

This should have been a fun day. Rich in history, mixing agriculture and international trade, not to mention alcohol-producing science. Draco had read quite a bit about distilling. The Malfoys made a fair bit of money off of the gin trade, using a fairy-hybrid Juniper berry cultivated over centuries so it would be safe for human consumption. They didn’t grow near the manor anymore. There was not enough magic to sustain them.

Draco made a point of asking thoughtful questions for appearances sake. It was hard to muster up more energy than that. Certainly, he couldn’t match Susan, Sol, and Marcus’s enthusiasm. He couldn’t even offer the somewhat frantic attention Everett was bringing to everything. Everett was constantly at Harry’s side, asking questions, laughing at jokes. Thankfully, Rene glommed on to Draco, once again finding a buddy so she didn’t look out of sorts when her interest in the activity waned.

Draco wished he could just go back to his bungalow and sleep, but it was his night for a group date. His group date with Everett and Marcus.

Draco wouldn’t exactly say he’d spent the entire day avoiding Everett and Marcus, but… alright, he did. He totally did. Which meant it was especially awkward when the four of them were shoved around a small table, munching on conch fritters.

Everett was right up near Harry, still asking questions and laughing too hard at jokes that were only modestly funny. Even Marcus looked a little frayed around the edges, although he was still able to hold together a culinary conversation on all the different types of food he’d had while traveling. He even made a point of including Everett and Draco, like they were friendly.

They all knew they had to be friendly.

The fakeness of it all was weighing on Draco. Or maybe it was non-stop activity for weeks. Or the pressure of the cameras, hovering around them, ready to capture his every slip up. Or the fact that right now Harry was enjoying his second beer, carrying on his happy buzz, and he seemed really into Marcus’s story about how to make the best food in the world - his Nonna’s Parmigiana - especially when he left out key steps because it’s a secret.

Thank Merlin the music was turned up. It was a different sound than what Draco would hear in the UK. A more lively, drum heavy beat than he was used to. He focused on it instead of the stress-inducing conversation and found himself nodding and tapping his fingers along to the infectious rhythm. Couples were passing their table, stepping to the beat of the song. “Do you want to dance?” Draco cut off whatever Harry was saying. A mass was forming in the middle of the room, behind Harry where he couldn’t see, and Draco would rather be there than let his anxiety spiral out of control as Harry and Marcus flirted.

Harry looked behind him to see what Draco was looking at. “Ummmm,” he hesitated. He looked back at the table. “Maybe when we’re done eating?” There wasn’t actually that much food left, but it was clear Harry wasn’t in a rush to get up. Marcus looked equally comfortable. Everett was nearly bouncing in his seat. Draco saw his own unease reflected on the younger man’s face.

He didn’t want to see himself reflected in any part of Everett. They weren’t anything alike. Everett’s family didn’t even take a side in the war. He had his whole, giant family alive to cherish him, and he took it all for granted. It let him worry about things Draco stopped having time for in fifth year. Who cared if people liked you or if you were having a gay crisis, when you were literally going to die if you couldn’t please an egotistical sadist. Which, of course, wasn’t fair, because Draco didn’t have to dig that deep in himself to know most of the reason Draco got angry at Everett was that Draco was jealous he would never get the chance to panic about normal things.

He didn’t actually want Everett to have to panic about anything. Not being gay, or living under the exacting standards of traditionalist pure blood parents. Just because Everett’s parents were alive to be disappointed in him didn’t mean Draco should treat him poorly. Watching harry display no interest in Everett’s clinginess should have been a relief, but mostly it further strained Draco’s nerves. Because Draco had the same fear Everett did, that deep down Harry didn’t like him.

Fuck, Draco felt compelled to be nice.

“Everett, come dance with me,” Draco urged.

Everett’s eyes went wide in that childish way of his. “Me?” he squeaked.

“Sure,” Draco tried to sound confident. “These two have plenty to talk about, and you know neither of them can dance. Let’s go have fun.”

“Go ahead,” Harry chimed in, probably wanting a break from Everett’s constant attention. Everett was the picture of uncertainty, but his need to please won out and he got up and followed Draco away from the table.

Draco would have bet every sickle he had that Everett had the same classical dance lessons he did as a child, which meant that when Draco took Everett’s hands and started to lead in a simple salsa Everett knew what to do. It wasn’t the right steps for the afro-style, but it would be familiar and they could step to a fast beat. Everett laughed nervously, but he also gripped Draco’s hands back and focused on watching his feet as the lessons came back to him. Draco let Everett ease into his muscle memory, then he stepped closer and worked in more complicated moves.

They were the only ones dancing like this, so of course Everett insisted, “We’re doing it wrong!”

Draco laughed, not unkindly. He leaned in to make sure his words wouldn’t be picked up by any of the cameras. “Are you always this anxious or is the show getting to you?”

Everett might have looked a bit stricken. “I just don’t want to upset anyone.”

Draco decided it was not the time to tackle Everett’s self esteem issues. “Let’s ask someone to teach us their dance moves,” he suggested instead.

Everett clung to him. “No, we can’t do that!”

Draco laughed again. He spun Everett around before pulling him close and switching the dance to something that was all hips, like Silas had taught Draco to do. It fit the music and Everett couldn’t say it didn’t fit in with the crowd. The music turned up even louder, and Draco threw his hands up and danced. He nudged and teased Everett every few seconds, until Everett also let loose and abandoned his training to wave his hands around and jump to the beat.

Draco couldn’t speak for Everett, but he let loose and danced until his body was too tired to panic about what the hell he got himself into. He blocked out the idea that Harry was possibly falling in love with a different man. He danced until Harry braved the dance floor to find them. Until it didn’t matter that there wasn’t space for any of them to do actual dance moves. Just to move to the rhythm, pressed up against each other.

Friday

“Good morning,” Draco said when he stepped out of his bungalow. Sol was sitting in a lawn chair outside the bungalow next to him.

Sol waved a solute. “‘Morning.”

Draco wasn’t planning to linger. In fact, he woke up with the urge to get the fuck away from everyone before Pansy could find him and force him through another day of structured romance. Only, it was barely daybreak and the good views were from the decks out the back of the bungalows. He went ahead and asked, “What’re you up to?”

Sol sighed the heaviest of sighs. “Is Everett crazy?”

Draco frowned deeper than maybe he should. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s probably nothing,” Sol hedged, “but he asked me to do him a favor.” Draco let his curiosity show until Sol said more. “He said Harry went into Marcus’s room last night, and didn’t come out. He was out here until an hour ago waiting, and I told him I’d watch so he could get some sleep.”

“That was kind of you.”

“Maybe. Maybe he’s full of shit.”

Draco half shrugged. “Harry could have swam back to his room if he went out the back?”

This time Sol looked at Draco with more scrutiny. “You think he really saw them go in together?”

Draco really didn’t want to be in the middle of this. He really didn’t. But Sol also looked strained around the edges, and he realized he might not be the only one holding on by a thread. “Harry and Marcus spent a lot of time together last night,” he admitted.

Sol turned away from Harry to look at nothing. He let out a very long and tired, “fuuuuuuck.”

“I was gonna… go,” Draco barely explained. Sol nodded and gave him another wave, and then Draco fled the bungalows. He walked past the resort. He walked down the beach until the sun was high in the sky and the whole world was sand and ocean.

-

“Can you pass me the sun screen?” Draco asked. He’d put some on earlier, but with the sun such as it was even magically enhanced sunscreen needed multiple applications. Susan glared at Draco as if he shouldn’t be allowed to talk to her. She then rolled her eyes, but at least she reached into the cart of supplies and pulled out a red tube to toss to Draco.

Everyone was on the dock getting ready to board another magic-driven boat. They were off to the Tobago Cays archipelago which was supposed to have some of the best snorkeling in the world. It was exactly what Draco needed. Awe-inspiring beauty in a setting where no one could talk to him.

Beautiful didn’t do it justice. The remote, uninhabited islands were surrounded by colorful reefs that were home to a truly astounding variety of sea life. Harry and the contestants put on muggle-style goggles, then applied spells that provided an air bubble they could breathe through while swimming. Together, they jumped into the water. Draco first spotted a school of colorful fish, he swam after them, watching them cruise through a kaleidoscope of gold, brown, blue, and turquoise green reefs. Draco was soon distracted when he spotted stingrays, then sharks, then turtles. There were so many turtles. Different types and different sizes, casually swimming around as if they weren’t the most amazing thing Draco ever saw.

This was the sort of place that made muggles think magic was real, even though they weren’t capable of seeing the magic that actually existed here. Draco could feel it. Those rotund spotted fish emitted magic waves that warned Draco to keep his distance. Something sand-white, with too many legs with too many joints, crawled along the seafloor. Occasionally, Draco would hear waves of enchanting songs. A different language than the merpeople he knew, but the same melodic tones. He swam away before his presence could summon their wrath. Despite being more tired than he had ever been in his life, Draco thought he could have spent hours more exploring the underwater world.

The contestants were gathered up in the end. They lounged on a nearby island after. Their boat captain flagged down one of the locals from a nearby island to prepare them a meal and together they feasted family-style on a massive grilled lobster, baked potatoes seasoned with local herbs, a flavorful rice mixture, tossed salad, and cake.

It might have been one of the best days of his life, if he didn’t think about how almost none of it had been with Harry.

Draco wasn’t the only one who used the boat ride back to relax and bask in their last big adventure on their trip. Rene and Harry chatted softly, but Sol and Everett used the time to nap. Draco almost drifted off himself, he was so worn out and relaxed.

Magic kept the trip short. Harry got out of the boat first so that he could help everyone else out onto the dock. “You’re looking a bit red,” he said to Draco after lending him a hand. “Did you put on sunscreen?” he sounded only a little like a scolding parent.

“Yeah, twice,” Draco said. He looked around for the red tube as if to prove it.

“You can use mine if you need, Draco,” said Susan of all people. She reached out for Harry to help her out of the boat. He pulled her onto the dock and then she riffled through her bag until she found a tube. A blue tube. Not what she’d leant him before. “Here you go!” Harry could only hear her bubbling voice, so he didn’t see her jagged smirk.

Draco couldn’t do anything but take the offered tube. Susan looked back over her shoulder to Harry before inviting him to go with her to the resort bar.

Draco spent the night in his hotel room. Pansy found him a burn salve and helped him apply it in all the hard to reach places, all the while saying the most vile things about Susan that probably weren’t even true. Draco chose to believe them anyway, just a little.

Saturday

They were lined up along a beach made up of dark, almost black sand. It was a far sharper contrast against the pounding Atlantic surf than the fine white sand he’d walked through so far. This beach was in the shadow of the volcano, and the sediment of past explosions left its mark. The landscape was elemental. Ominous.

Harry and Lee stood in front of them, a perfect camera shot of the ocean behind them. Some PA had put out an actual table on the sand, instead of a much easier folding version. Five roses were lined out on top of it.

Perhaps Harry was waiting for some signal to get started, but it felt like he was staring soulfully at Draco and his fellow contestants. Like maybe he didn’t want to spoil this trip to paradise by eliminating anyone from the show.

Of course, Harry would always do what he needed to do. He picked up the first rose. He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Twirled the rose between his fingers. Looked up at the contestants.

“Marcus,” Harry said at last. “Will you take this rose?”

Draco felt Sol shift next to him, but didn’t dare look to confirm what the motion meant. In any case, Harry chose Sol next, so the moment passed.

“Susan,” it was getting increasingly hard for Draco to hear her chosen before himself. Draco tried not to rub at his peeling burned skin.

“Draco,” was a larger relief than Pansy’s burn salve. Draco surged forward to take his rose. Harry’s comment when he passed it off was, “it was nice to see you enjoy things this week.” Draco resisted the urge to overanalyze exactly what that meant.

Then it was Rene and Everett left standing across from Harry, each wondering if this was the end of the line. Rene had one hand grasped around her opposite wrist, clinging to herself as she faced down being in the bottom two for the first time with a stiff upper lip. Everett was trying to stand still, but his eyes were wide and heavy with unshed tears.

“Rene.” Draco wished Harry sounded a little less certain, to at least pretend it wasn’t an easy decision. Even if Draco couldn’t imagine a world where Everett was the one for Harry.

It was still hard to watch Everett when the tears burst free.

Draco didn’t wait for anyone else to move before he stepped forward to give Everett a hug. That was all Everett needed to sob harder. Draco patted the back of his head and let him. “It’s going to be alright,” Draco soothed. And it would be, for Everett. He’d go back to his family and be surrounded by love and his parents, who were still alive, would watch on TV how terrified Everett was of their disapproval and maybe they’d even change to show Everett how special he was and how he was perfect exactly how he was.

Draco chose to imagine all of that was true. He would trade every chance he had with Harry for the chance to go home to his family again, and have it be like the war never happened. Draco tried very, very hard not to be jealous that Everett could go home and have it.