Please don't die of alcohol poisoning
It had been three days since the initiation of Plan Get Lucius Off My Back, and Draco thought it was going swimmingly. Lucius had been suitably horrified to learn that Draco’s new boyfriend was none other than Harry Potter, but when Narcissa pointed out that as he had simply said that Draco needed to be dating to avoid the betrothal, he had backed down. He had, of course, informed everyone that there was no way this ‘fling’ was going to last longer than a few weeks and he would be there with the contract, a quill, and an “I told you so” as soon as it failed. Draco was equally as ready to return with an “I told you so” as soon as he graduated and Lucius could no longer force him into anything.
In the meantime, Harry and Draco got to enjoy the benefits of pulling one over on the entire school and the shock it gave everyone. The fact that Harry Potter was dating Draco Malfoy very quickly became the talk of the school. How could it not, given that Harry was the most famous person alive and Draco was infamous throughout Hogwarts. Harry was delighted by the reactions of everyone - true, he had never much enjoyed being whispered about and pointed at, but given that he was in full control of what was causing the attention, he found it highly amusing. Draco found himself more often than not in Harry’s company, listening as he raved about the newest bit of gossip about them. At the moment, they were sitting under a beech tree by the lake during their lunch hour, while Harry played with a snitch that Sirius had given him for his birthday and Draco worked on a potions essay that was due after lunch.
“And Romilda Vane - do you know Romilda? She tried to drug me with love potion last year, she’s a little bit insane - she spent twenty minutes cornering me in the library to interrogate me about everything from when and how we started dating - that was on September first, by the way, on the train, I ran into you and you confessed that you had feelings for me and I confessed the same and then we snogged - to is it true that you have a ten step skin and hair care routine that you use every morning and night.”
“And what did you tell her about that?” Draco asked, amused, crossing out a line on his essay and consulting his textbook.
“I told her that it was a twenty step routine for each,” Harry shrugged. “And I also told her that it makes your hair and face very pleasantly soft.”
“Well, you’ve got that right,” Draco said, abandoning his textbook and laying back in the grass. “Not the twenty steps each, mind, they’re only ten. But my hair is very soft.”
Harry snorted. “No way, really?”
Draco knew full well that Harry was asking about the ten step routines, but he chose to ignore that and pretend he was asking about his hair. “Yes, really. Here, feel it.”
He shifted slightly, plopping his head in Harry’s lap and grabbing Harry’s wrist to direct it to his hair.
“No, I’m not gonna sit here and feel your - holy shit, it is soft,” Harry said, immediately threading his fingers through Draco’s hair.
Draco laughed. “You should really do something about your hair, you know. You could borrow my conditioner, it would work wonders.”
“I think I’ll pass, thanks,” Harry said, sounding offended. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it’s a bit of a rat’s nest, dear,” Draco said sardonically. “Honestly, just use my mousse once and that stupid horn that sticks up in the back-”
Harry started laughing. “Your mousse? How much mousse do you use?”
“Hey,” Draco snapped, though there was no heat behind it. “You were the one just raving about how soft my hair is. That means you don’t get to mock the routine.”
“Alright, fair enough,” Harry shrugged. He was still playing with Draco’s hair.
“How are Weasley and Granger taking it?” Draco asked, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation.
Harry laughed again. “They spent the whole first day asking me if I’d lost my mind and thinking that we were making it up just to fuck with them.”
“Now why on earth would they think something like that?” Draco asked, his voice filled with mock hurt. “I’m wounded that they don’t approve of our sordid love affair.”
“They’re getting used to it,” Harry said. “I spent a fair bit of time waxing poetic about you, honestly, and they seemed to decide that I wasn’t faking it. And they’ve apparently realised how obnoxious it is to have to watch your friends constantly make out in front of you, so they’ve stopped doing that, at least.”
“Weasley and Granger make out?” Draco asked, opening his eyes to look up at Harry. “I thought Granger was a bit too… uptight for something like that.”
“You know, most people use first names when referring to their boyfriend’s friends,” Harry said lightly. “But yes. Not usually out in front of everyone, mind you, but they have no such qualms about me. The repression in front of the rest of the school just makes it all the more… intense, you could say, when I’m the only audience.”
“How scandalous,” Draco teased.
“What about your friends?” Harry asked. “What do they think?”
Draco shrugged. “Pansy is mostly just all sad that it looks like we won’t be getting married after all. Crabbe and Goyle are too thick to really care, but those three aren’t really my friends anyway, so who cares.”
“They’re not?” Harry asked, surprised. “I thought you liked them.”
“Well, they make good enough minions,” Draco said. “Wouldn't call them friends though.”
Harry snorted. “Minions?”
“Yes, minions,” Draco said, completely unapologetic. “They’re really not cut out for anything else. Couldn’t think for themselves if everyone else was dead.”
“So who are your friends?” Harry asked.
“Blaise and Daphne,” Draco said immediately. “We’ve been good friends for a long time.”
“Zabini and Greengrass?” Harry asked, sounding vaguely surprised.
“Yeah,” Draco said. “Why do you sound surprised?”
“I just don’t see you around them much,” Harry said, shrugging.
“Yes, well, some of us don’t feel the need to be attached at the hip at all times,” Draco rolled his eyes. “We spend most of our time in the common room together, though.”
“And what do they think about us?” Harry asked.
“Oh, they guessed that it was a ploy to get out of the betrothal,” Draco said. “Apparently our love story was not realistic enough for them. So they are aware that it’s fake, but I don’t think there was any way to avoid that.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” Harry shrugged. “Oh, we’re having a party for Hermione’s birthday Saturday night, you should come.”
“In your common room?” Draco asked, twisting slightly “Is that even allowed?”
Harry shrugged. “Why not? You just can’t know the password, but it’s alright, I’ll let you in. You can bring Blaise and Daphne.”
“Are you sure the Gryffindors will allow three whole Slytherins into their sacred space?” Draco asked teasingly. “It might taint the aura.”
Harry shrugged again. “It’ll be fine. I’ll just tell anyone who gives us an issue to fuck off. It’ll be fun, come on!”
“Alright, I’ll come,” Draco sighed dramatically. “When is Granger’s birthday then, Saturday? Am I expected to show up with a gift?”
“No, it was last week, but we had that charms quiz and she wouldn’t be distracted from studying,” Harry said. “You’d think she’d chill, considering it was just a quiz, not even an exam and mostly only to see what we remembered from last year, but that’s Hermione for you. And no, you don’t have to bring a gift. This party is mostly to let the older years get pissed and have fun.”
“Ooooh, underage drinking, Potter?” Draco said. “I’m shocked the famous Boy-Who-Lived would be willing to do something so illegal.”
Harry swatted his head, causing Draco to yelp.
“Everybody got over all the Boy-Who-Lived shit years ago,” Harry said.
“They did not,” Draco insisted. “Especially with all that nonsense with your godfather and Lupin in third and fourth year. And then they went and made you their heir, so you’re the heir to both the Potter and Black families, which are both very old, influential, and wealthy families by the way. Hate to break it to you, darling. You’re even more famous now than you were before.”
“Oh shut up,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “The point being, you don’t have to bring a gift, you can bring your friends, and you should come.”
“Okay fine, I’ll be there,” Draco said. “What time?”
“Just be outside the portrait hole at eight,” Harry said. “I’ll let you guys in.”
“Alright,” Draco agreed easily. “I’m not getting pissed, though.”
“Suit yourself,” Harry shrugged. “I am. Only point of having parties, honestly.”
Draco snorted.
-{}-{}-{}-
Draco entered his common room later that evening, scanning the room for Blaise and Daphne. Finding neither of them there, he crossed the room, ignoring everyone else in it, and went straight to his dorm. If they weren’t in the common room after dinner, that’s where they’d be.
Sure enough, Blaise was laying on his bed, while Daphne sat on the edge of Draco’s, and they were talking quietly. They both fell silent when Draco entered.
“And where were you?” Blaise asked teasingly. “Sucking Potter’s face in front of his friends?”
“For your information,” Draco said haughtily. “I was in the library. It’s N.E.W.T.s year, we should all be studying.”
“Are you kidding me?” Blaise exclaimed, sitting up. “It’s September! The exams are ages away. It’s our last year, we should be having fun.”
“Speaking of fun,” Draco said, crossing to his trunk and kicking it open, rummaging around inside in search of his pyjamas. “There’s a party in Gryffindor Saturday night, and Harry said we should come.”
“To a party in Gryffindor?” Daphne asked, wrinkling her nose. “Are we even allowed in their common room?”
“Why does Potter want us there?” Blaise asked. “All three of us?”
“Yes, we can go in there,” Draco said. “He’ll let us in if we’re outside at eight. Yes, all three of us. They’ve decided to throw a party for Granger’s birthday, and according to Harry, that’s the sort of event that a boyfriend would be attending. And he said I could bring my friends.”
“Of all the people to fake date,” Daphne said, shaking her head and looking amused. “You really had to go and choose Harry Potter?”
“He’d piss my dad off the most,” Draco shrugged. “Two birds with one stone and all that.”
“And it gives you a convenient excuse to snog him,” Blaise sniggered.
“You shut up,” Draco said sharply, extricating his pyjamas from his trunk at last and undoing his tie. “Would you have preferred I fake date one of you?”
“Ew, no,” Blaise said, lying back on his bed.
“I’m just a little worried about you,” Daphne said carefully. “I mean, with your history with Potter… I don’t want you getting more involved then he is, and then getting…hurt.”
Draco scowled at Daphne, but said nothing.
Unfortunately, Daphne was not referring to the supposed hatred between Draco and Harry when she talked about their ‘history’. Draco had had a rather inconvenient crush on Harry ever since fourth year, something Blaise and Daphne knew all too well. Even more inconveniently, it had only grown over time, resulting in what Blaise and Daphne referred to as his ‘obsession with all things Potter.’ It’s not like it was Draco’s fault that Harry just got hotter every year. Really, it was very rude of him to just get taller and stronger all the time. Draco could swear that his eyes were getting greener, too. And whatever Draco said to Harry, he was sure that his hair was just as soft as his own was, and had been longing for an opportunity to run his fingers through it for years.
“We don’t even know if Potter is into blokes,” Blaise was saying. “It might be a completely moot point.”
“I don’t think he would have agreed if he wasn’t at least a little,” Daphne said reasonably. “Especially since the whole school knows about it.”
“I’m very aware that this is all just for show,” Draco said, a bit sharply. “I am under no pretence that this could become something more. I told him right off the bat, just until we graduate and only to keep my father off my back.”
“You’re going to be dating him all year then,” Daphne said. “That seems a bit… risky, to me. You’re going to get attached, and if he doesn’t return the feelings, it’s going to hurt you.”
“I think I can manage my own emotions, Daphne,” Draco said. “I appreciate the concern, but it’ll be fine, really. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to change. The others’ll be up here soon, Daph, you’d probably get back to your own room.”
Daphne made a face at him, but stood. “I’ll see you two tomorrow, then.”
She left the room.
Blaise looked at Draco. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, mate,” he said, clearly fighting a sly grin. “But you’re completely fucked and you know it.”
Draco groaned, snatched up his pyjamas, and stalked into the bathroom.
-{}-{}-{}-
Harry knocked on the door to Remus’s office. He knew exactly why he’d been called here tonight - Remus and Sirius wanted to know what the fuck exactly was going on with him and Draco.
“Come in, Harry,” Remus called through the door, and Harry pushed it open.
Sirius and Remus were sitting at Remus’s desk. Well, Remus was sitting in the chair behind the desk. Sirius was sitting cross-legged on the desk, eating a biscuit.
“You,” Sirius said at once, pointing an accusing finger at Harry. “What the fuck.”
“Padfoot,” Remus said reproachfully.
“No,” Sirius said. “What the fuck, kid. Why did I have to find out through the grapevine that you are dating Draco fucking Malfoy? You didn’t even tell us you were into blokes!”
Harry’s resolve to keep the ruse going to his guardians lasted all of half a second. He looked at them both, and then snorted, dissolving into giggles. Sirius and Remus both stared at him.
“Okay, what the fuck, kid,” Remus sighed, running a hand down his face. “What’s going on? I feel like we’re missing something.”
“You are,” Harry said, still laughing. “We’re only pretending to date.”
Sirius and Remus stared at him once more.
“That clears up exactly nothing,” Sirius declared.
“Harry,” Remus said, sighing again and looking exasperated. “What do you mean, you’re only pretending?”
“Lucius set up a betrothal between Draco and Pansy Parkinson,” Harry explained. “And there are several problems with that. Draco is very gay and Pansy is very insufferable. And Lucius said that he’d drop the betrothal if Draco was in a serious relationship. So he asked me to pretend to date him until we graduate to get him out of the contract.”
“Oh,” Sirius said, looking slightly disappointed. “So you’re not into blokes, then?”
Harry snorted again. Of course that was what Sirius was most interested in knowing. “I don’t exactly broadcast it to everyone, but I’m kind of just into who I’m into, gender notwithstanding. It just hasn’t come up before now. I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I wasn’t willing to date guys, I wouldn’t want the whole school to think I’m gay if I wasn’t.”
“I feel like you’re playing a bit of a dangerous game here, kiddo,” Remus said. “A fake relationship can very easily develop into real feelings, which is only going to burn you if they’re not reciprocated. It’s also very easy to forget the relationship was fake in the first place.”
Sirius gave him a sideways glance. “Why do you sound as though you’re speaking from experience?”
Remus gave him a surprised look. “Did I never tell you that I started dating Thomas Vance in fourth year just to help him keep his ex away from him?”
Sirius’s jaw dropped. “That was fake? I have literally hated Thomas Vance for dating you for decades and this whole time it was fake?”
“It started fake,” Remus said pointedly. “Which is exactly the point I’m trying to make to Harry. Pretending to date someone never ends well.”
“I think it’ll be okay,” Harry said, grinning at them both. “We’re both very clear on what the expectations and rules of this are. Neither of us have any illusions or real feelings for each other, it’ll be fine.”
“Just be careful,” Remus said gently.
“I will, I promise,” Harry said. “Oh. We’re having a party for Hermione’s birthday on Saturday night. Do you think you could help keep McGonagall from shutting it down too early?”
“You’re throwing a party and you didn’t tell me?” Sirius asked, sounding outraged.
“Sirius,” Remus said, his voice very tired. “You cannot go get drunk at a party with teenagers.”
“I can if one of them is my godson,” Sirius argued.
“No, you really can’t,” Harry said firmly. “Besides, who said anything about getting drunk?”
Sirius and Remus glanced at each other, and then burst into laughter.
“Please, Harry,” Sirius said, wiping his eyes. “We invented Gryffindor parties. You guys are largely unsupervised teenagers throwing a party. Obviously you’re going to be getting drunk.”
“Just don’t get too drunk, please,” Remus said. “I’d really like to not have to save the entirety of Gryffindor house from alcohol poisoning. And do not let anyone younger than sixteen have any.”
“Hypocrite,” Sirius said around a loud, fake cough.
Remus gave him a look.
“No, we won’t die of alcohol poisoning,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “And no, we’re not giving any to anyone younger than sixth year. Hermione’s putting some sort of charm on it. Only way she would agree to there being any in the first place. Will you keep McGonagall away or not?”
Remus sighed. “I’ll do my best, but no promises. She’s very good at knowing when there’s mischief.”
“Good enough,” Harry said, grinning. “Thanks.”
Sirius looked delighted. Remus looked like he was very much regretting his life choices.