Episode 9 Recap
Sunday
Harry, Hermione, and Ron were gathered together on screen the way Draco assumed they must have as youths in the Gryffindor common room. Not too different than how the trio had looked together in the library, only Hermione wasn’t trying to get anyone to shove their noses in a book. Draco had thought Harry looked comfortable when he chatted with Lee, but that had nothing on the lazy smile he offered his best friends in the whole world.
“Tell us what you like about each of them.” Hermione had a notebook out in front of her that Draco would put money had a chart or graph or something where she’d soon be ranking him and his fellow contestants. She was poised with her muggle pen, ready to take notes. “First up is… Draco?” It wasn’t meant to be a question, or maybe she knew exactly what her tone was doing. Asking without asking why, of all people, was Harry sticking with Draco?
Harry actually snorted. Hermione’s eyes narrowed, just a little. Harry lifted a hand to his face so he could fail to hide his smile. They stared at each other like two friends who didn’t need words to have a conversation until Hermione tapped her paper because it was actually words she was looking for.
Harry pulled the hand from his suddenly serious mouth. “He’s genuine.”
“How so?”
If Draco had asked Harry probably would have shrugged, but for Hermione he leaned back in his chair and thought. “Half of what he says is so painstakingly deliberated, it’d make you think he’s hiding something, but the other half of the time he says the first thing that comes to mind and you realize it’s all the same person talking. He’s not changing himself to win me over, or become famous, or whatever it is people go on TV to do. He’s just Draco.”
“Mate, you do remember we don’t like Draco?” They actually put Ron saying that on television. “I mean, it’s Malfoy. You remember Malfoy.”
“Yes, Ron,” Harry’s voice sounded one step away from narked, “I remember Malfoy.”
“Then I don’t get it? What’s there to like?” Ron demanded. “It can’t just be because-” Harry coughed, once, hard, and Ron shut his mouth.
“Yes, Ron, we all remember Harry looking at Malfoy.” Hermione was scribbling notes furiously. She paused to look up at Harry. “We do know you take marriage more seriously than that.”
Harry smirked at Ron. “Thank you, Hermione.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ron grumbled. “But what’s in it for Draco? He’s got to be in it for-”
With a groan Harry dropped his head backwards. “Give it a rest. Draco’s a good person. He’s nice to everyone, even when they’re awful to him. He’s patient as a saint. He tries too bloody hard at everything when he has nothing to prove, right up until it challenges his principles and then he digs his heels in hard enough to drive you mad if he wasn’t so…” Harry was staring up at the ceiling, looking at nothing and unsure of how to finish the sentence.
“Okay, maybe he’s ‘genuine’,” Ron twisted his mouth as he said it, “and if his intent is so noble, why is he interested in you?”
Hermione cut in before Harry could. “Obviously, he hero worships Harry.”
“What?” Harry sputtered as he shot straight up in his chair.
Hermione’s cold gaze was unrepentant. “He admitted he had a crush on you in school, I won’t speculate as to why,” she said it like she already had and didn’t find the reasoning all that impressive, “it’s natural for the crush to compound after you saved him from the fiendfyre, then Voldermort, then Azkaban.”
“Draco saved me, too,” Harry insisted.
“That really doesn’t matter, Harry. It’s not on the same scale. I doubt Draco will ever think of the two of you as equals.”
If Harry had been talking to Draco he would have changed the topic without responding. If he’d been talking to Lee, he would have laughed it off. Here in front of Hermione and Ron, he nearly crumpled in distress. He sounded almost hurt when he said, “That’s not funny.”
“It’s really not,” Hermione agreed. She set her pen down to show she was giving Harry her undivided attention. “Have you talked with him about this?”
Harry might have flinched under the pressure. “I want to get to know him beyond the war.” It wasn’t that it sounded bad, just that under Hermione’s scrutiny it looked like a very thinly veiled excuse.
“What if you marry him?” Hermione asked. Her piercing gaze was making Harry squirm. “Could you do that, before unpacking everything?”
Harry found his backbone and squared his shoulder. “I’m not avoiding things,” he said it like it was a bad word. Like it was an old fight he and Hermione were well versed in. “I just want to see if there’s potential for Draco and I to have something real.”
Hermione “hmm”ed thoughtfully. Draco remembered the shrewd look she was giving Harry from when she sat across from him that week during breakfast. “If you pick him,” she contemplated aloud, “and you get married, and you two haven’t made the time to work things out, I’m sure you’ll be very happy for quite awhile.” Harry was cringing again, because he knew as well as Draco that another shoe was about to drop. “Draco will be so thankful to you, he’ll feel so special, he’ll think he owes you everything.” It hurt to hear her sharp words hold nothing back, cutting deep into Draco’s chest. “As you say, he’ll try hard at everything. He’ll constantly be on his best behavior for you, trying to prove you made the right choice. He’ll be keen to make sure you never regret it. I doubt he’ll ever ask you for anything. He’d never want to burden you. He’d never want you to change your mind.
“Is that what you want out of marriage?”
-
It didn’t matter that they were just as probing about the other candidates. It didn’t soothe Draco one bit when Ron took a turn tearing into Harry’s history with Susan, bubbly, vivacious Susan, for her memorized Witch Weekly facts to the point of obsession or her overabundant glee at being in the limelight. It didn’t help one iota that what Hermione had done wasn’t personal.
-
“There you are.” It was Harry on screen, moments after he’d said goodbye to Draco when they finished their walk. Harry had continued on outside, strolling around the building until he saw Rene in a swinging chair, getting rained on. Harry cast one of his umbrella spells, without even thinking about it. “I was hoping to find you today.”
Rene sniffled, maybe from being out in the cold rain for however long it took the rain to soak through her own charm. “Hi Harry.”
It only took a moment for Harry to sit down next to her. He took her hand so naturally. As naturally as he’d just been holding Draco’s when he affixed Draco’s new charm. Draco wondered if Rene thought about that, when she’d seen it moments ago on screen. He wondered if she thought of it now, while the image of Harry’s soul searching gaze stared at her from across the old swing bench. “What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing.”
Draco had to imagine what it felt like to have Harry reach out like that and cup his cheek. He felt such blinding jealousy that he didn’t know. He knew what it was like to have suspicion, or anger, or lust, but never such gentle reverence as he gave to Rene when he said, “Please, Rene, would you tell me?”
The floor might actually be dropping out from under Draco at that very moment. He felt so sick and off kilter. The relationship he had with Harry was nothing like Harry’s relationship to Rene.
-
Harsh comparisons piled up throughout the episode, starting with when Hemione sat down one-on-one with Susan and then Rene. In the way Harry undoubtedly knew and loved, and clearly had been on the receiving end of, Hemione was very direct in asking them both about their behavior on the previously aired episode. Both conversations ended in tears, only Rene kept apologizing over how she knew Harry’s spouse would have to be stronger and she was worried she didn’t have it in her. Susan, on the other hand, immediately got defensive and started pointing out all the bad behaviors everyone else had ever done that should be considered before anyone looked at her.
Not for the first time, Draco and Marcus were compared head to head. Like the joke Draco had made all those weeks ago in the first episode was real, and Marcus was actually his top competition. Ron challenged them both to chess marathons. The show aired their reactions to losing simultaneously, so everyone could see the differences in how they handled it. Draco looked so calm, at times studious, at times amused. It only took two games for Marcus to get hot headed and resentful. He got up and stormed off after game four, despite Ron’s efforts to chat about other things as they played, to give Marcus a chance. Draco actually looked like the winner of the exchange. He hadn’t realized they were competing.
-
“They’re not even grilling me. Why aren’t they grilling me?” Sol asked as he put down two mugs of hot cocoa.
Harry picked up a mug and cast a wordless cooling charm on it so he could take a sip without burning himself. “Do you want me to make them come grill you over something?” He sounded almost amused.
“It’s not funny,” Sol snapped. “I saw Susan leave a room crying yesterday after talking to Hermione.”
Harry tilted his head. “You’re upset Hermione didn’t make you cry?”
“I wouldn’t mind if she tried,” Sol said without the slightest hyperbole. “Why are your two best friends testing everyone but me? What did you tell them about me?”
Harry put down his mug, not caring that it’d grow cold too fast to be any good afterwards. “I told them I like you. I’m serious about you. You’re not just a ‘party boy’, which is what Hermione called you by the way. In case you’re wondering how her attacks would land if she actually went after you.”
“Oh please, she’d have to do way better than that,” Sol grumbled. He was looking down at his hands, though. Hiding. Like maybe the comment had hurt.
Harry had that small curve of a smile on. The one that looked particularly affectionate. “They like you. It probably just means they’re not looking for ammunition to get me to dump you.”
Sol looked almost flustered. “That doesn’t make any sense. They should spend time with people they like, not with people they want you to get rid of.”
Harry took a swig of his now ruined cocoa, but he didn’t seem to mind. He had chocolate and a man’s company he enjoyed. “I’ll tell them to talk to you at the party,” Harry promised. Then he grinned. “You can show Hermione how good you are at parties.”
Sol laughed, carefree and relieved. “Just you wait. I’ll be wholesome or some shit like that.”
“I believe it.” Harry looked like he really did.
-
The birthday party was a dazzling spectacular, filled with cameos of various guests getting their own turn in a confessional, sharing their thoughts on the competition thus far and who they thought would win. Over eager former classmates gushing about their love for Rene, Marcus, Susan, Sol, with the least honorable mention of Draco by Justin Finch-Fletchley, who only remarked “Can you believe I just chatted with Malfoy about accounting?”
The camera lingered on the special guests, showing off special moments, like Sol being incredibly wholesome as he introduced his mother to absolutely everyone.
Later in the evening, clearly intoxicated guests would say “What is going on between Susan and Rene?” or “Harry has to be seeing this, right? They never show him watching the contestants fight but he’s not blind” between takes of Susan constantly trying to one-up Rene to be the center of attention.
Draco stood out only as someone who highlighted other people. His conversations were always about the other person. His gift to Rene a chance to make her shine. His stepping out for air a chance to segue to…
-
“I came out to get a moment to myself,” Marcus said to the night, not to Harry.
Harry hesitated at the door. “Do you want me to go back in?”
It was an offer Marcus considered. Then he sighed out too much air. “No, you can stay.”
So Harry walked out onto the patio, letting the door swing shut behind him. “What’s wrong?” Harry was always checking in on other people.
Marcus set his jaw and didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at Harry when Harry walked up beside him. Instead of pushing, Harry gave him space. The two men stood silently, gazing up at the moon.
Finally, Marcus said, “I fucked up.”
Harry frowned thoughtfully. “What’d you do this time?”
“This time?” was what Marcus got stuck on. The nonchalant shrug Harry offered wasn’t exactly reassuring. Marcus huffed and let it go. “Blew up at your friend Ron.”
“I’ve done that.”
“Acted the fool and stormed out.”
“Done that, too.”
“He’ll probably tell you to dump me.”
Harry turned to face Marcus, leaning his hip on one of the patio chairs as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not Ron’s choice.”
Marcus might have growled out his frustration, but maybe it was just a groan. Either way he ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. All his insecurities out in the open, on display for Harry. “I’m just not good at not being good at things.”
“Haven’t had a lot of practice?” Harry quipped.
Marcus kicked a rock. “Ha ha.” He finally turned to look at Harry. “I mean it, ya know? In the real world, if I want to be good at something I just go figure out how. Here, I can’t figure out how to…” he trailed off and turned away from Harry again.
“How to what?” Harry nudged, looking like he genuinely wanted to know.
Marcus shifted uncomfortably. “I just spend every day falling a bit more… well. I like you, Harry. I like you and try as I might, I can’t figure out how to get you to like me.”
This pause was longer, and more weighted. “What do you want me to say?” Harry finally asked.
Marcus’s smile was rueful. “You never say anything,” he said. “That’s how I know we’re not endgame. I see you open up every week with other people, and you’re not like that with me.”
Harry wasn’t smiling at all when he said, “Now you sound like Hermione.”
“Yeah? Well, she’s smart, isn’t she?” Marcus wasn’t smiling, either.
Stubbornly, Harry didn’t turn away. He stared down the side of Marcus’s head until Marcus gave in and turned back to him. “I’m not going to kick you off the show for butting heads with people. Not when you can look back and figure out whether you were a dick about it. I like that you butt heads. I like that you push me. If you didn’t push me then we’d just…” he paused a moment, as if he suddenly had a different thought. A thought Draco didn’t think he was going to like. Harry refocused back on Marcus. “You know I keep things close to my chest. That’s who I am. You need to decide if that’s enough for you.”
“It’s not.” Marcus didn’t even hesitate. “And you know it’s not. I’m not saying you need to share every thought in your head all the time, but you’re telling the world you want marriage. You can’t close yourself off to who you choose to marry. I don’t care if it’s me, or if it’s-” he paused to swallow so hard you could see his throat bob. “Actually I kind of care who it is,” he finished far quieter than his previous outburst. His entire body deflated, frustration replaced by a sort of melancholy.
“I,” Harry looked lost, unable to find his words. “I am trying.”
“Do you mean it?”
Harry’s nod may have been tentative, but his jaw was set and his gaze was firm.
Marcus finally turned fully into Harry. He stepped up close, nearly touching. “If you mean it, then I’m in it until the end, Harry. I’m not the sort who gives up.”
That eased the tension right out of Harry’s body. His smile blossomed over his face. “I like a guy who doesn’t give up on me.”
It was Marcus who reached out to close the distance. Marcus who leaned in…
-
Harry sat down with Ron and Hermione again Saturday morning. He had porridge and pumpkin juice, like they were back in school. Hermione pulled out scrolls of notes, like she’d written a term paper on each contestant. Harry made her put them away, with Ron snickering in the background.
“Just tell me who you liked,” Harry suggested.
They cut away then, not letting anyone know what his friends said.
-
“I really can’t believe we got to spend the whole week with Ron and Hermione. Even if it was mostly Hermione giving me the third degree. This must be what O’Donnell felt like in 1999 when you started with the aurors.” Draco didn’t think he’d seen Susan in the Interview Room before. Her rapid fire conversation was all energy.
“Caught O'Donnell in 2000,” Harry said offhand, a brief correction that didn’t really seem to matter.
Susan paused, her face pursed as she stared into the distance and dug up an old memory. “Pretty sure it was 1999, according to Witch Weekly’s list of your most Awesome Eight Arrests.”
Harry paused in tapping his notecards on his chair. A habit Draco hadn’t realized carried over to other interviews. Draco hadn’t realized he used those furrowed brows on others, either. It was written on Harry’s face the exact moment he decided to let it go. “Alright,” he segued before picking up the card and reading one at random. “What was most memorable about the party?”
-
The final five contestants all looked so earnest up on the screen. They’d survived two months of their lives being picked apart and dissected, this episode going further than any before. What’s more, Draco could read Harry better now. He could see how Harry’s set jaw showed how hard this decision was. Harry’s rigid pose showed the struggle of ranking his suitors.
Maybe none of them had realized what it would be like, back at the beginning. How far they’d have to tear themselves open and let the world see what was inside. See the chinks in their armor and the fears buzzing around them as they each sought love.
Hermione got final cut of the episode and Draco could tell, because it wasn’t Lee’s flamboyant style. It was raw and brutal. The same truth Hermione would look you in the eye and say to your face. Only she didn’t have to, because she could make you watch it instead. She could make you look at it and see it and ask yourself, is this what you want out of marriage? Is this what you’re looking for?
-
Draco was out of his seat the moment the screen went dark. He moved first, drawing other contestant’s attention. He made the mistake of glancing around. Caught Rene looking at his right wrist, where long sleeves once again hid his bracelet.
Draco didn’t bother with goodbyes before beelining for the door.
“Draco, wait up!” Marcus called as he chased after Draco, who did not, in fact, wait up. Draco was out the door and hustling back towards his bedroom. Marcus had to jog to catch him. Draco was tall with a long stride, but Marcus easily matched his speed. “I’m sorry for what I said on the island. I didn’t know-”
“Didn’t know what?” Draco snapped, all too aware how much the other contestants didn’t know. Things he didn’t want anyone to see, but Hermione and Ron somehow had. And they’d shown everyone.
“I didn’t know about the fiendfyre.”
“You don’t know about anything!” Draco didn’t quite yell but it was a close thing. He didn’t actually want to yell. His chest was tight and he was having trouble breathing. There were cameras zipping by, threatening to share another of Draco’s breakdowns with the world. Draco forced himself to stop and take a breath. He said, “I don’t want to talk about it,” unclear if he meant the fiendfyre, the episode they just watched, or all the baggage between him and Harry that neither man had made a move to unpack.
Marcus was nodding, taking a step back to give Draco space. It was a special kind of painful to have Marcus watch all that and then choose to be nice after. Even his voice was gentle when he said, “Yeah, alright. I’ll catch up with you in the morning.”
No one else stopped Draco from running off to hide in his room.
Monday
Marcus did not catch up with Draco in the morning.
Marcus had been whisked away to a surprise activity.
Which meant Draco spent the entire day thinking about Marcus alone with Harry. Thinking about all the time everyone else would have alone with Harry. And if there was anyway the time he would be given would be enough to figure out whether he and Harry could possibly have anything real at all.