Draco was fourteen when his Hogwarts dining experience changed irrevocably. It wasn’t, shockingly, because Viktor Krum sat next to him. Nor was it because he learned that his delicate stomach could not handle shkembe.
It was a simple Friday in December. The Yule Ball had been announced the day before, so naturally, that was all anyone could talk about. Draco tuned out Blaise and Pansy on his right as they eagerly discussed colour and design options for their robes.
CLANG!
His jaw flexed when the noise ricocheted through the hall and made his brain feel like it was rattling in his skull. He immediately traced the source to the Gryffindor table. One of the Weasley twins – he couldn’t tell them apart when they were right in front of him, let alone across the room – was on top of the table, balancing precariously over some hovering toast. The other, feet firmly on the ground, had been the one to hit a metal plate with a ladle.
For a moment longer than Draco was willing to admit, he thought he was in a memory. His sister had told him a story that started just like this once, from her first week at Hogwarts. The incredibly stupid thought died when Katherine lowered her newspaper across from him.
“Good morning, fellow and non-fellow students!”
“Déjà vu,” Daphne whispered from next to Katherine.
“Unlike the last time we did this, it is not an apology,” the tabletop twin announced with a brilliant grin. Katherine sighed and spun on the bench so she could see the commotion. “There you are! I thought you were going to ignore us for eternity.”
“As if that’s possible,” Adrian muttered. He was on Katherine’s other side.
“Katherine Hyades Prevett-Black, will you do me the utmost honour of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?”
Draco glanced around to catalogue the reactions. Daphne was somehow smiling and gaping. Adrian’s lips were pressed together tightly, and he was rigid with holding back an obviously ecstatic reaction. Most other people were staring at Katherine with palpable anticipation.
Honestly, what a spectacle. The Weasley twins were known for showing off, but really, they couldn’t have some decorum? Katherine did not enjoy public displays, and they knew that. Draco glowered at the tabletop twin – it had to be George, he was gone for Katherine. The disrespect was making him itch.
“Yes,” Katherine said softly. It carried in the silent hall as easily as a shout. Draco gasped in spite of himself. George beamed. The entire crowd erupted in cheers. Daphne was grinning, Adrian was shaking Katherine’s shoulder like he’d taken leave of his senses, and Fred was doing some sort of ecstatic jig.
With an extravagant bow, George dismounted the table, and everything went back to normal with startling speed. Conversations resumed, and Katherine turned back around. Draco narrowed his eyes at her tiny smirk.
“The next time that happens, I’m filing a lawsuit,” Adrian said, rubbing his ear.
“The next time that happens, I’m moving schools,” she said calmly.
“Beauxbatons holds some appeal,” Daphne said, almost absently. Katherine’s smirk grew slightly but she said nothing.
XXX
Two days. Draco hadn’t spoken to his sister in two days. They went to the same school, for Merlin’s sake. They were in the same house! Yet, he’d barely glimpsed her outside of mealtimes and he knew exactly why. So, he had to take matters into his own hands.
“I hope you know,” Draco said disparagingly, sitting next to Katherine, “that you are a great inconvenience to me.”
He heaped some potato dauphinoise onto his plate and had just returned the gammon steaks to their place when he noticed that no one had answered him. When he looked up, everyone within a few meters each way was staring at him. Even Katherine, though her expression was more amused than everyone else’s.
“Malfoy, are you lost?” Potter asked, swinging onto the bench opposite Draco. His two sidekicks eyed him warily as they also sat down.
“What makes you think I am, Potty?”
“You’re at the Gryffindor table, moron.”
Draco raised an eyebrow and purposefully looked up and down the table. Granted, he had never sat there. Katherine frequented other tables, but he’d never joined her, preferring his own house. Still, he missed his sister. That meant seeking her out. It was giving him a rash, certainly, but he’d be damned if he let anyone else see his discomfort.
“I am? How bizarre. Would you pass the grapefruit juice?”
“What’s the magic word?” Potter asked cheekily. Draco frowned.
“There are many magic words.”
Potter opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to form words. Granger looked oddly delighted.
“It’s an expression – well, I guess you don’t have it here. Um.”
“Manners,” Granger said helpfully. Potter gestured to her.
“Yes, manners.”
“Please,” Draco said, curling his lip, “pass the grapefruit juice.”
“See, was that so hard?”
Draco hated him and his cheeky grin and glittering eyes. Prick.
“Inconvenience,” he emphasised to Katherine.
“No one asked you to sit here, little brother.” Well, he knew that. “Are you going to tell me what changed, or are you going to stew?”
“You’ve been missing for two days. I thought you’d been abducted or something equally horrifying. As thrilled as I am that you’ve finally pulled your head out of your arse,” he looked pointedly at George, “I miss having intelligent conversations.”
“Aw, Malfoy-.”
“Potter, I will murder you before this tournament has a chance.”
“Fine by me. Could you do it before this bloody ball, though? Finding a date is stressful.”
Draco turned to gape at Potter.
“Are you saying that the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, the Fourth Champion, the Bespectacled Boy Wonder-?”
“Any day now,” Fred said cheekily.
“-Can’t ask someone to a dance?” Draco finished. Potter rolled his eyes.
“If it’s so easy, how come you haven’t asked anyone yet?”
The silence was excruciating. Draco, through years of practice, pushed down the blush that would have exposed him in ways he would not condone. It felt like everyone was staring, but really, only their little group was paying attention anymore.
“That is none of your business,” he said haughtily. In a desperate bid to regain control, he spun back to Katherine and, by extension, George. “What possessed you to say yes to this heathen? You hate uncouth public displays!”
Of all the reactions, he wasn’t expecting laughter. The twins nearly topped off their bench, Lee snorted so hard that he ended up with soup on his nose, and Katherine smirked. He glared.
“I wasn’t actually asking her to the ball,” George said through chuckles. Draco pushed his shoulders back, suddenly pissed off. “It was an experiment.”
That did not help the anger.
“Explain,” Draco demanded. He focused on Katherine rather than the others because he was less likely to commit violence towards her. She patted his shoulder.
“George asked me to the ball privately. Then someone asked for Fred and George’s help. They wanted to ask someone to the Yule Ball, but didn’t want to make physical contact, and they don’t share any classes. We put on the little performance to allow them to sneak them a note,” she said easily. Draco was going to kill her.
“And I wanted to assess who thought public displays were good and who thought they were terrible,” Lee added. “I like to keep my options open.”
“You’re not telling me who the someone was, are you?”
“Of course not. It worked, though.”
He decided the best thing for his health would be to stop asking questions. Firmly ignoring them, he instead stared at Potter. Eventually, the imbecile felt Draco’s gaze and looked up. He arched an eyebrow.
“What’s so magical about “please”?”
Potter sighed.
XXX
“Sweet Morgana, it smells like chaos over here,” Pansy said the next day, gracefully sitting opposite Draco. Blaise joined them only a heartbeat later.
“Interesting change of location. A bit garish, but I’ve never been overly fond of red,” he said, grimacing mildly at the red silk napkins that had not been there prior to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arriving.
“What are you doing here?” Draco asked warily. They scoffed in unison.
“Darling, what are you doing here?” Pansy asked.
“I wanted to see Katherine.”
Very slowly, Blaise and Pansy looked up and down the Gryffindor table. When they returned their gazes to Draco, they had raised a single eyebrow each.
“Katherine isn’t here,” Blaise said. “She’s over there with her ex-girlfriend and Delacour.”
Draco was saved, mercifully, by Greg and Vince.
“Was wondering when you’d crack and come over here,” Greg said.
“Yeah, the bacon’s much better at this table,” Vince added.
“Hufflepuff has better pancakes, though.”
“Oh, but Ravenclaw do great pastries.”
“You two should start a food review paper. Hogwarts: A History of Food,” Pansy said and didn’t even sound remotely like she was kidding.
“I’d read it. The Slytherin marmalade is sub-par, so I’d like to know my options,” Blaise said, following his usual toast routine with strawberry jam. “Name it something better than that, though.”
“Rude.”
“Um . . . good morning?”
All five of them looked at Granger. Weasley was at her side, his eyes narrowed so much they were nearly closed. Potter just grinned at them and sat next to Pansy. Granger and Weasley followed, the latter distinctly more reluctant.
“What would you call it then, Blaise?” Pansy asked to cover the slightly awkward silence.
“Fantastic Foods and Where to Find Them.”
“That’s awful,” Draco said. Greg and Vince nodded in wholehearted agreement.
“You come up with something if you’re so creative, then,” Blaise drawled. He picked up his perfectly saturated toast and ate it.
“It’s not as though we’re gonna do it anyways,” Vince said. Greg frowned. “What? You think we should?”
“I think, if we don’t do it, it should be because we don’t want to, not because we don’t think we can.”
“What is it that you’re doing?” Granger asked tentatively. She held firm when she found herself, once again, under the scrutiny of five Slytherins. “Sorry, I intruded.”
“No, Granger, another opinion might be beneficial,” Pansy said smoothly. “Greg and Vince have sampled nearly every type of food from all the house tables. We think they should do some sort of review or guide on where to find the best.”
“Oh, that sounds marvellous! You could talk to the house elves as well – Katherine introduced me a few weeks ago – and I’m sure they’d be happy to discuss their foods. Maybe don’t tell them you prefer some of their cooking to others’, but if you keep it general, they’d love it.”
Pansy tilted her head.
“You’ve met the Hogwarts house elves?”
“Yes. They work mostly in the kitchen, of course, and they all have quarters nearby. It’s truly incredible to see them all working.”
“So, you know where the kitchens are?” Blaise asked. Granger nodded.
“Katherine knows where the kitchens are,” Draco said, infuriated. His sister! And she’d never told him!
“Back to the concept,” Pansy interrupted. “Thoughts on names?”
“What if people don’t read it?” Weasley said when he was finished wolfing down an abhorrent mouthful of eggs.
“I’d read it. I want to know where I can find the best dessert,” Potter said. Granger nodded emphatically.
The rest of breakfast was full of increasingly ridiculous name suggestions, Weasley’s amusing struggle between being irate at their presence and the injustice in food inequality, and Draco resolutely not looking anywhere near Potter. When they left, the Gryffindors to Herbology and the Slytherins to History of Magic, Potter waved to Fleur and Krum. And they waved back.
What was this odd reality Draco found himself in?
XXX
The Great Hall looked magnificent. Draco hadn’t thought it was possible, but somehow, it worked. It was like an ice palace, glittering and glowing. Wixen and muggle fashions in every colour imaginable merged together on the dance floor and mingled at tables. The air was filled with music and laughter.
“Your face will stay like that,” Katherine said dryly. Her dark skin was dusted in faint glitter, her braids woven with silver, and he was sure she was wearing their Cissa-mum’s earrings. He glowered at her and sat – he did not slump – into the chair next to her.
“Why did he have to bring a Patil?”
“Perhaps because they’re friends?”
Draco scoffed. When news spread of Potter finally securing a date, it had been utterly surprising to find out it was Parvati Patil. He’d barely ever seen them speak yet, here they were, at the Yule Ball together. Potter was even dancing – Patil was showing him some sort of dance move and they were laughing, and Draco was going to vomit.
“Since when?”
“Katherine! Draco! Magnifique, I have lost ze patience with Roger,” Fleur said, positively throwing herself into a chair. She looked despondent. “’E just stares! ‘E does not listen or say anything. I could stick a fork in my eye and ‘e would not notice!”
“Davies is a wet mop,” Draco said helpfully. Fleur huffed, blowing her immaculate fringe slightly.
“Agreed,” Katherine said.
“Per’aps I should have come with another champion. They ‘ave personalities.”
“Potter would have been thrilled with that suggestion. He did not enjoy finding a date,” Katherine drawled. Fleur giggled.
“I could ‘ave come with Viktor, and ‘Arry could have Cedric. He has a . . . how you say? Crush?”
“Him and half of Hogwarts.”
Draco tried not to think about Potter fancying Diggory. It would kill him.
“Where ees your date, Katherine? ‘E made such a fuss for you.”
“Causing havoc.”
Katherine gestured to the dance floor. The twins were with the girls of the Gryffindor quidditch team, the Weasley girl, and assorted students from the other schools. They were all dancing like paralytic house elves.
“Where’s Aurora?” Draco asked because, evidently, he’d lost his mind. Katherine and Fleur looked incredibly amused.
“Over there,” Katherine said, nodding to a corner of the dance floor. Adrian was spinning Aurora in giggling circles to the fast beat. Draco wouldn’t gape, but it was a near thing. “She took pity on him. His preferred date asked someone else.” He stared at her. “Why are you being weird?”
“Why are you not?”
“We broke up over a year ago, we were hardly together very long, and we don’t wish each other ill will. I’m lucky to count her as a friend, so why would I ruin that by fixating on our past romance?” Katherine raised an eyebrow at him, standing up fluidly. “Fleur, would you dance with me?”
“Oui! Of course! You are a vast improvement over Roger.”
“A low bar, but I’ll take it.”
Draco crossed his arms and tried not to glare – frown lines were absolutely not an option – as the silver of Fleur’s dress and the blue of Katherine’s swirled together as they laughingly waltzed to an astonishingly quick beat. He couldn’t locate Davies, which was probably for the best. What imbecile came to a ball with Fleur Delacour and failed to converse properly?
“You look constipated.”
Oh, well then.
“And you look like a troll.”
Potter grinned as though they were having the most fun conversation in the history of speaking. Draco huffed. Sadly, Potter looked fantastic. His hair was atrocious, naturally, but the brilliant green of his robes matched his eyes painfully well. Bugger it all.
“What is it that you want?” Draco asked stiffly. Potter raised an eyebrow.
“What? You can invade my table, but I can’t invade yours? I see how it is.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Potter. I hardly invaded.”
“Came to strange territory, took the food, and attacked – verbally, but still – the residents? Sounds like an invasion to me.” Draco smirked. Potter’s eyes were gleaming cheekily. “Want to dance?”
Draco was known for being the epitome of composure. Ask anyone. However, he may have slightly, sort of, definitely sputtered and turned as red as the Gryffindor crest at the question.
“What-?” he croaked and flushed deeper. “What about your date?”
“I’ve been told people can dance with more than one person at a ball. Who knew?” Potter quipped. Draco rolled his eyes, but the sarcasm was helping him regain some semblance of equilibrium. “Come on. You scared, Malfoy?”
Draco pushed his shoulders back and rose to stand as imperiously as his mothers had taught him.
“You wish.”
XXX
Things got remarkably stranger after the Yule Ball. Draco spent more time at the Gryffindor table and Potter started . . . eating at the Slytherin table too? Granger and Weasley were more reluctant and less frequent guests because of it, but they popped up every now and again. Pansy took great joy in subjecting Potter to her particular brand of bitchy humour. Blaise dug for Defence tips. It was baffling.
The first time Draco helped Potter with a potion – because his lack of skills deserved tragedies written about them – Snape had stopped walking. He had literally frozen mid-stride to stare at them both. Draco had been questioned after to make sure he wasn’t Confunded. He hadn’t known what to say, so, “We’re friends” had come out. According to witnesses, they had been friends since before the ball. Draco was certain he would have noticed, but Pansy and Blaise were adamant.
“Barty Crouch was digging in Snape’s office.”
Being friends with Potter meant becoming very aware that he was a trouble magnet. Obviously, his entry into a death tournament was proof of that, but Draco began getting hives whenever Potter was out of sight for too long. For reasons that were exactly what he’d just said.
“How do you even know that?” he asked with a groan. Granger and Weasley watched curiously.
“I saw him on the map the other night when I snuck into the prefects’ bathroom.”
“I want to know, and I don’t want to know,” Blaise muttered.
“I was figuring out the clue. Merpeople, by the way,” Potter said. Sweet Merlin.
“Don’t just go around telling people that, Potter, bloody hell,” Draco scolded. “Keep these things private. It’s a competition.”
“I already told Fleur and Viktor.”
Draco buried his face in crossed arms and groaned. Loudly.
“Not Diggory?” Blaise asked curiously.
“He’s the one who told me to try the bath.”
Granger squeaked. Draco wanted to die.
“Wait, you flat-out told him about the dragons, but he only gave you a vague idea about this?” Weasley demanded. Oh, for the love of gremlins.
“Potter, be honest. Can you keep a secret?” Blaise asked, sounding genuinely lost. Draco pulled himself together and sat up.
“Why would Crouch be in Professor Snape’s office?” Granger said, wisely returning to the topic at hand. He wasn’t sure he could cope with Potter’s frivolous approach to self-preservation any longer.
“What map?” Pansy asked.
“The Marauders’ Map. It shows all of Hogwarts and everyone in it,” Potter said. Draco frowned, something tickling his memory.
“Where they are, what they’re doing,” he said. Potter grinned.
“Every minute of every day.”
Whispers from summers past, the crinkle of parchment, and his very first day at Hogwarts when Katherine somehow knew he had gotten lost seven times before finding the Great Hall all flickered through his mind.
“I’m going to kill her.”
“Wait until we’ve gotten this story, Draco,” Pansy tutted. He scoffed but didn’t disagree. “So, you saw Barty Crouch on a magic map?”
“Yeah. Then I got stuck on that trick step under the cloak-.”
“Cloak?” Blaise asked.
“The invisibility cloak,” Potter said absently. Draco considered gaping. Blaise’s head had tilted in contemplation, and there was the most amusing glint of pure confusion behind his blank expression. “Snape showed up with Filch, and they had the egg, and they found the map. Thank god Moody showed up, because the map shows everyone, even if they’re invisible. He got them to leave, gave me the egg, and he’s borrowing the map.”
Well.
That was. Something.
“What were you doing in the dungeons?” Pansy asked. She was easily the calmest of them.
“I was going to investigate. I thought it was super weird that Crouch is meant to be really ill, but he was breaking and entering in the dead of night.”
There were not enough gods to hear any prayers Draco sent.
“So, instead of reporting it, you went looking for him?” Blaise said, squinting. Potter nodded idly. Blaise looked at Granger and Weasley, who both shrugged. “How was he not caught? Surely Snape noticed something.”
“He did. He heard the noise and saw his office had been broken into when he came to investigate.”
“And Crouch wasn’t there?” Another nod. “Snape’s chambers are in the opposite direction to Filch’s office. Are you suggesting Crouch has an invisibility cloak of his own to disappear into thin air?”
“Disillusionment charm?” Draco said, largely against his will, but also to be contrary. He needed something to make sense. Blaise sighed at him. Potter was looking between them all like a lost crup.
“Potter,” Pansy said slowly, one eyebrow arching in sharp doubt. “Did you see Crouch leave the dungeons on the map?”
“No, but Moody said he wasn’t there anymore.”
Weasley muttered something that sounded like “fuckity fuck”. Granger was shaking her head minutely, the movements small enough that she didn’t seem aware of them.
“We don’t have proof,” Blaise mused.
“Dumbledore never has proof of anything,” Draco said bitterly.
“To Snape then?” Pansy said, though her tone brokered no argument. He nodded his agreement in tandem with Blaise. The Gryffindor cohort hesitated, but eventually conceded under Pansy’s withering glare.
“He’s going to freak the fuck out,” Draco sighed.
XXX
It was anti-climactic, the grand scheme of things. Really, the most dramatic part had been Snape trying to give Harry detention for breaking curfew despite him (accidentally) solving several crimes. Draco reasoned that all the fun things happened behind the scenes. As one of his mums was Head Auror, he got a tiny bit of information on what those exciting things were.
Barty Crouch Junior had been masquerading as Moody, intent on a long-haul plan to get Harry to You-Know-Who and perform a ritual to bring him back to full strength. The real Moody had been retrieved and was healing. You-Know-Who had been found, along with Peter Pettigrew, and the former had died – for real – in the resulting struggle. Barty Crouch Senior was arrested for all sorts of laws broken that Draco couldn’t begin to care about enough to read.
And the TriWizard Tournament still had to continue.
“Quite frankly, I preferred it when we weren’t friends,” Draco huffed, brushing imaginary lint from Harry’s long-sleeved t-shirt. The other Champions, their families and some friends were gathered in a large tent a short distance from the maze. Draco was doing his absolute best not to think about what was inside. It was bound to shave years off his life.
“You say the sweetest things to me,” Harry teased. “Hey, if we hadn’t been friends, who knows what the hell I’d have done during the second task?”
“Stolen the gillyweed like a plebian.”
“Fleur tried to teach me the Bubble-Head Charm.”
“I have no doubt she would have succeeded with anyone who is not you.”
“There you go again. You’re going to make me blush.”
Draco smirked to hide the delighted smile threatening to destroy his reputation. Harry gazed at him like he knew exactly what he was doing. Bloody hell. He had thought Harry was incredibly unobservant! What was this knowing bollocks?
“Mr Potter,” Marilyn Prevett-Black said calmly, towering over both at six feet tall. “Hello, darling. Cissa is securing you all seats.”
“To watch a maze with no idea what’s happening within? How fun,” Draco drawled.
“You’d have a nervous breakdown if you saw me so much as trip,” Harry joked. Draco scowled.
“You are a danger magnet, Potter! He Who Must Not Be Named was attempting to kill you a few months ago!”
“And he’s not now. I consider that a win. Plus, your mum’s best will be patrolling the borders.”
Introducing Harry to Draco’s parents had been a mistake, Draco thought dryly as they both smirked at him. At least Narcissa was outside already. He suspected, based off her first meeting with Harry, that they would get along like a house on fire. And Draco was positive that would not go well for him.
“It will start shortly,” Marilyn said. She looked at Draco significantly then went to shoo Sirius and the rest of their group from the tent. Hollers of “good luck” echoed for a moment.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Potter,” he warned. Harry grinned.
“That doesn’t sound like me.”
“You have Slytherin friends now. We don’t appreciate cavalier attitudes to danger.”
“I think you secretly do.”
Draco was turning pink. Absolutely not.
“Good luck, Harry,” he said quietly. Harry’s smile softened, fond.
“I’ll see you on the other side, Draco.”
With that, he drifted to Fleur’s side. Diggory cuffed him affectionately and Krum cracked a real smile. Draco did not calm, but he edged closer to acceptance. Harry would be okay. He had to be.
XXX
3 years later
One glass tinkling quickly spread to multiple glasses creating a pleasant cacophony of sound across the garden of the Burrow. It was rickety and chaotic and the kind of home he couldn’t imagine growing up in. But it was a home nonetheless, and the perfect spot for a wedding.
“A toast, if you please,” Katherine said brightly. She was standing on a chair, George braced at her side in case the unstable thing decided to give up. “To this spectacular partnership sealed with vows today. A perfect match. One supreme talent; Triwizard Tournament winner, the best roommate at a Potions camp one could hope for, and a wicked gobstones player. And one alright-I-guess guy she looked at and decided “that one” right before she became said tournament winner. Congrats, Fleur and Bill!”
Cheers erupted from everyone. Sirius whistled. Fred and George started a chant. Draco applauded calmly because he was not a heathen. Bill was attempting to mess with Katherine’s hair, and she was cry-laughing as she hid behind Fleur. Draco watched Harry’s brilliant smile light up the world around him, enraptured by the pure delight radiating from the Boy-Who-Got-To-Live.
“You ever think about this?” Harry asked, gesturing to the decorations and dancing guests as though Draco hadn’t worked that out.
“That depends,” he hedged. He wasn’t going to admit to anything straight away. That was lunacy.
“Bloody Slytherins,” Harry muttered. “I think about it. With you, in case that wasn’t obvious.”
Draco tamped down on his sheer glee.
“I think about it too. Not with you, though, I need someone much lower maintenance-.”
“Obviously, ‘cause you need all the attention-.”
“And I could never marry someone who supports the Cannons-.”
“For the last time, those were gifts for Ron!”
“But I suppose I could lower my standards,” Draco finished. Harry rolled his eyes and plonked himself on Draco’s lap, arms around his shoulders.
“I love you,” Harry said. Draco beamed.
“I love you too, Harry.”