Chapter 3
After the interaction with Potter, or Harry, as he insisted for whatever reason, Draco didn’t know what to feel. On one hand, this tentative f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶s̶h̶i̶p̶ a̶l̶l̶i̶a̶n̶c̶e̶ truce was beneficial, and it helped to know that Draco wouldn’t have to worry about a frankly overpowered (and rightfully vengeful) hero taking his frustrations out on the former Death Eater. On the other hand, Draco was truly and utterly ruined. The one benefit from Harry’s standoffish behavior was that Draco never had to worry about getting too close. Now, this- relationship of theirs that was nowhere near unfriendly anymore was dangerous, it gave Draco hope.
Draco sighed as he fiddled with his tie in the mirror. Tonight was the party that Neville had invited him to, which he still didn’t know if he wanted to go to. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what the others were saying about him and how they felt about his return. If anything, this could all be an elaborate prank to have Draco show up to the party and no one would be there, or maybe they would be there but there would be no party and everyone would just scoff at him and ridicule the idea of ever wanting Draco to breathe near them and-
“Draco mate, are you okay?”
Draco nearly jumped out of his skin as he whirled around to see Blaise in the doorway. Huffing, Draco turned back around to mess with his outfit some more. Through the reflection he could see Blaise raise an eyebrow and walk over to sit on the side of his bed.
“You look more stressed than the men who’ve reached the year mark with my mother, and that’s saying something. What’s the matter with you?”
Draco said nothing but gestured vaguely towards the door and his outfit. This damn party is what’s the matter.
Blaise yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Do try not to frown so much darling, the wrinkles are unbecoming. And anyway, it’s not really the party you’re worried about right? Just the fact that Potter will be there I’m sure.”
Draco spluttered and furiously glared at Blaise, desperately willing the heat in his face to go down. He grabbed the nearest parchment and wrote faster than he ever has before.
I am NOT worried about Potter, Blaise, and the fact that you would think that is absurd. Stop laughing this instant!
Blaise, the traitor, just cackled louder at the expense of what was left of Draco’s dignity. This is it, Draco despaired. This is the night I will die, betrayed by my closest friend who only sees me as entertainment.
“Oh do stop moping Draco, if anything be glad Potter is as dense as a black hole when it comes to these things. His friends on the other hand…” Blaise snorted at Draco’s expression.
“Sounds like the party started here already!”
Blaise’s eyes lit up at Neville’s arrival, no doubt excited to find someone else to tease Draco with.
“Neville! What perfect timing, I’m afraid your poor roommate has a bad case of pre-party jitters. We must cure him of it, surely.”
Neville just raised an eyebrow in amusement as he pulled out some jeans and a sweater to wear.
“Honestly Draco, it’s not a formal ball. I know you’re more comfortable with many robes, but do try to at least tone it down.” Neville chuckled as he shrugged out of his gardening robes. “If you don’t have anything to wear, I’m sure Blaise has some casual clothes you can borrow.”
Draco huffed and turned his head over to Blaise, who was staring resolutely at the wall, the tips of his ears steadily darkening. Interesting.
Neville hummed as he finished changing into his new clothes, and turned to say something before pausing at the weird atmosphere. He stared at Blaise for a moment before looking at Draco and murmuring a quiet see you later as he walked back into the hallway.
As soon as Neville was far enough Draco grabbed his quill, a new sense of glee filling him.
What the hell was that reaction Blaise??? That whole interaction???
Blaise blushed even more furiously and coughed into his fist. “Ah, well, don’t worry about it, it’s really nothing and I do believe I hear Hermione calling for help for the Potions assignment I have to leave okay seeyoulaterbye!”
Draco stared incredulously at Blaise as he made a hasty escape. Hermione never needs help for Potions. What a ridiculous man.
Two hours later, Draco slipped out of the common room and into the empty halls of Hogwarts. It was late enough that the party should be in full swing, but not too late for it to end soon. As Draco quickly hurried towards the stairs that would lead to the third floor, he got the feeling that someone was watching him. It couldn’t be Filch, because Draco had memorized the man’s patrol patterns since sixth year. If it was a student, Draco would almost prefer Filch.
Nervously wiping his hands on the jeans he borrowed from Blaise, Draco hastened his speed and pulled his cloak further over his head. He had no wand, and was thus defenseless. Come on, only one more corridor.
Just as Draco was about to turn into the hallway that led to the Room of Requirement, a burst of itching pain traveled up his foot. A Stinging Hex.
“Well, well, well, what on earth do we have here? Seems a little late for you to be out, Malfoy.”
Draco winced as he tried to take weight off his foot. He opened his mouth instinctively, but groaned in frustration as he remembered his predicament. He studied the boy in front of him who so graciously cast the hex. A sixth year Head Boy. Hufflepuff. Of all houses, weren’t they supposed to be the most relaxed??
The boy was still speaking. “-but of course, I’m not too surprised. There’s no way you changed all of a sudden, so tell me Malfoy, what are you doing out here so late? Making plans with your Death Eater friends? Oh wait, they’re all in Azkaban! Where you should be.”
Draco slowly backed up down the hallway. The door should only be a few meters away, he just needs to get there and he’ll be safe. Hopefully.
The boy’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. “Or you could just die. I don’t know why you get to be here when so many people died because of you and your bloody lot.”
This was getting dangerous. Draco was about to just turn and make a run for it when the boy let out a sarcastic laugh.
“Oh but maybe you’re running back to that cursed house of yours. Didn’t you hear?” The boy cleared his throat and pulled out a newspaper. “Lord Malfoy, dead at 42. Died in Azkaban, just like the rest of them will!” The boy crowed.
But Draco didn’t hear any of that. Dead at 42, dead, dead, dead-
Draco’s vision blurred and he stumbled over his feet as he turned to run. His blood was roaring in his ears and his breath coming in short gasps where was he why is this happening there’s pain pain pain painpainpainpain-
Draco collapsed to the cold ground as his legs gave out under him, the sensation of fire and daggers and poison nearly making him pass out. He thought he heard voices, but that couldn’t be right, he was supposed to be in bed, or was it a party? Draco didn’t know what was happening.
Footsteps came closer, a door banged. Make it stop please.
“Draco! Draco oh bloody hell what oh my god no no nonono- Hermione go get the Headmistress!”
Headmistress? Wasn’t there a Headmaster? What…god it hurts.
“I heard someone screaming what happened Harry oh my GOD!”
More running. Footsteps. Where was he, it’s so cold help someone help.
“Mate what- what happened to him?”
“A bloody bleeding curse now please go find whoever did this Ron please just-”
“Don’t worry, I got you mate.”
More voices. Did the hallways always warp like that? Make it stop, just let me close my eyes…
“Draco, Draco no, nonono keep your eyes open Draco please!”
Darkness.
Ten Minutes Earlier
Harry frowned as he looked around the room, squinting in the dim lighting.
“Neville, didn’t you say you invited Harry?”
Neville looked up from where he was sprawled over Blaise’s lap, who was currently turning redder than a tomato. “Uh, yeah I think he’ll get here soon. Who knows, he’s still not used to being around us that much.”
Harry hummed and leaned back against the wall. It’s not that he was waiting for Draco. Kinda. Well, maybe he was. But that’s not a crime! He was just looking for his friend, his very single friend who didn’t abandon his other friends to lock lips with his girlfriend. Harry glared pointedly at Ron and Hermione.
Now don’t get him wrong, he loves his friends, really. It’s just that now they have something more than he’ll ever have with either of them, which is not a problem because he really doesn’t see them that way, but still. It was a little weird. Kind of like seeing your parents in their honeymoon stage.
After sighing for what seemed like the hundredth time, Harry pushed off the wall and walked over to the fruit punch. It was definitely spiked, but being a little buzzed couldn’t hurt. He needed to relax, desperately. There were only so many comments of “you need to loosen up mate!” that Harry could take.
As he stayed by the dessert table nursing his drink, Luna came up next to him.
“Your head is filled with Nargles, Harry. What’s wrong?”
Harry sighed and drank some more. “I don’t know Luna. I’m just, sitting around I guess.”
Luna nodded in that absent, sagely way of hers. “I see. You are in love with Draco.”
Harry choked on the last of his punch, coughs wracking his body as he pounded his fist on his chest to clear his lungs.
“Wh-what??” he wheezed.
“Oh was it supposed to be a secret? I thought everyone knew, since sixth year really. All that stalking and obsession. It was only a matter of time before you came to love him after the whole mess.”
Harry stared at Luna in astonishment, who just blinked up at him knowingly.
“I don’t- I was never obsessed with Draco!” Harry spluttered, waving his hands.
Silence.
“Mate, you said that really, really, loud.” Ron called from where he was sitting on the couch, Hermione in his lap.
Everyone was staring at Harry in amusement.
“Kill me now please.” Harry groaned in mortification.
Ron snorted and rolled his eyes. “Right then, everyone who has a pair of eyes, raise your hands if you think Harry has a thing for our resident angsty pureblood.”
Everyone’s hands raised.
“Are you guys serious? I don’t have a thing for Draco, I-”
“Oh it’s Draco now, is it?” Hermione cut in, hiding her drunk giggles behind a hand.
Harry struggled to form words, his face blushing so profusely that he knew it was clearly visible, even in the low lighting. He opened his mouth to argue, when a shrill scream cut through the walls.
“What the bloody-”
“Who was that?”
“What on earth!”
Harry was already out the door and with his wand out. A few feet away was Draco, losing more blood than Harry had ever seen before, not since in the bathroom- oh. Oh no, nonono.
Someone was running away, but Harry couldn’t bother with that right now, not when Draco was bleeding out, not when he could die.
“Draco! Draco oh bloody hell what oh my god no no nonono- Hermione go get the Headmistress!”
Hermione took one look at Draco’s impossibly pale body and ran, Padma following closely behind her.
Ron came behind Harry, with Seamus peeking over his shoulder, clearly not understanding what was going on.
“I heard someone screaming what happened Harry oh my GOD!”
“Mate what- what happened to him?”
“A bloody bleeding curse now please go find whoever did this Ron please just-”
“Don’t worry, I got you mate.” And Ron took off running.
Draco was shivering and whimpering, his eyes fluttering as he stared at everything and nothing at once. Harry was desperately muttering all the counter-curses he knew, panicking as he wondered why on earth he didn’t memorize what Snape had said back in sixth year. Draco’s breathing was becoming shallower, and his eyes were closing.
“Draco, Draco no, nonono keep your eyes open Draco please!”
Harry’s hands shook. Was it anger? Fear? He didn’t know. There was so much blood, too much, it was on Harry’s hands why, why why why-
Harry numbly felt himself being pulled away and panic seared through him, why were they taking him away no don’t take him away from me what are you doing-
“Harry! Harry it’s okay, Madame Pomfrey and Headmistress McGonagall are here, they have him, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
Harry let himself be pulled up by Blaise, who was rubbing circles into his back. The rest of his classmates were in the Room of Requirement cleaning up and gathering their belongings.
Harry was still shaking.
More footsteps echoed down the all too quiet halls, sounds of shuffling and muffled grunts.
“Harry mate! I found this bloke sneaking away, used your map and didn’t see anyone else around. Musta been him.”
Ron was leading, or rather dragging a magically bound Hufflepuff Head Boy down the corridor, who was currently twisting in his binds and trying to escape. Ron pushed the sixth year towards the group and canceled the Muffliato.
“You bloody, idiotic Gryffindor! Do you know who I am?”
“No. Who are you, exactly?” Harry asked, his voice foreign sounding to his own ears. He ignored the glances sent his way as he walked up to the boy.
“Avery Atkinson, and the only one here who has a bit of sense!”
“I see. And why is that?” Harry asked, his hands twitching around his wand. Control. Breathe.
The boy laughed, a crazed look in his eyes. “Why, I will have ended the Malfoy line! Everyone will know my name as the one who finally rid the world of its scum! Yes, they will know me as Draco Malfoy’s killer, his-”
Avery stopped talking. Harry’s knuckles smarted where his skin had torn on the bastard's face, and he glared balefully at the unconscious boy at his feet. He could kick him. No, that wouldn’t do any good. But it would certainly feel good. Harry could feel his magic crackling over his skin like a storm, and a faint smell of ozone filled the air. His classmates shuffled nervously on their feet.
Hermione broke out of her stupor and started ushering the rest of the group back to their dorms, all the while sending perturbed glances towards Harry. Dean cast a binding spell on Avery and levitated him down the hall towards Minerva’s office.
“Aren’t you going to take him to Madame Pomfrey?” called out Seamus, albeit reluctantly, in a tone that suggested he would rather Avery never see medical attention ever again.
Dean glanced at the slowly bleeding Head Boy. “Nah.” And walked off.
Ron clapped his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “C’mon mate, let’s head to the infirmary. I wanna make sure my future brother-in-law isn’t bleeding out still.”
Harry gave a weak huff at Ron’s comment, too anxious to be truly distracted by his attempts at lightening the atmosphere. Harry’s arms were still shaking and even as he was walking he could tell Ron was leading them, since Harry was about as grounded as a cloud. The halls were shifting, in ways they didn’t usually do, even with magic. Before Harry realized, he and Ron had reached the doors to the infirmary.
Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. Behind that door was Draco, Draco who could still be bleeding, still dying and bleeding out and he just got his life back why-
“Harry! Mate, you have got to relax, you panicking isn’t going to help Malfoy. Do you want to go inside?”
Inside? Inside was where Draco was, and Draco could be dead. It’s like that cat thing, Harry thought hysterically. The one Hermione talked about, where it’s dead or not dead. Harry let out a strangled noise.
“Mate, you’re seriously scaring me here. Can you count all your toes for me? That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? I think?” Ron’s voice pitched higher as Harry’s breathing became more labored, his knuckles continuously cracking over and over.
The door opened abruptly and McGonagall took one look at the pair before sighing and dragging them both inside and barricading the door behind them. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
The Headmistress moved Harry to a chair and gave him a calming drought, which he eagerly swallowed.
“How is he Professor- uhm, Headmistress? Please?” Harry blurted out, his eyes still glassy from his panic attack out in the hallway.
“Well, given that it’s been eight minutes since he has been in the infirmary, I am not quite sure. However, Madame Pomfrey assured me that she knew the counter-curse, and that Draco would be alright before morning.”
A sharp knock on the door startled the tired group, insistent arguing on the other side that seemed just about ready to explode. McGonagall unbarred the door and paused at the sight.
“Mrs. Malfoy, welcome. As well as…Mr. Parkinson, and miss Pansy? Please, do come in, but mind your volume.” McGonagall opened the door wider with a slightly befuddled expression.
Harry watched as a worried yet determined Narcissa shuffled in, followed by an irate looking man and resigned Pansy. What on earth was going on?
“Right, would someone bother to explain what’s happening? Because as far as I know, only one of you is related to Malfoy here.”
Ron. Blessed Ron who Harry was so grateful for, who asked the questions Harry couldn’t when he was still quite in shock.
Mr. Parkinson sneered while Minerva hissed a sharp ‘Ron Weasley!’ before apologizing to the other adults.
“Soon, we will be family, if Mrs. Malfoy here would stop being so intractable!” Pansy’s father spat.
What.
McGonagall coughed politely as Narcissa’s face twisted in indignation before settling once more. “What do you mean, exactly? Mr. Parkinson?”
Pansy finally spoke up with a sigh. “Father wishes for me to marry Draco.”
Harry felt his stomach lurch, and his voice came out not quite as even as he would have liked as he asked, “You want to marry Draco?”
Pansy rolled her eyes, which were slightly tinged with red, and opened her mouth to speak before her father interrupted her.
“Whether Pansy wants to marry him or not does not matter. The young Malfoy needs to marry in order to become Lord Malfoy, and my daughter is the perfect candidate. After all, they have known each other since birth, and which other family would take the disgraced Malfoys? Certainly not the Greengrass family.” Mr. Parkinson snorted with derision.
“I will not have Draco marrying someone who he does not wish to, and my husband's death will not change my mind on that.”
Harry was even more confused. “Sorry, what?”
Narcissa turned to Harry, her eyes also red and glassy. “My husband, Lucious, died earlier last night in Azkaban around half past nine. It is now twelve in the morning and somehow Parkinson here has taken it upon himself to force his daughter upon Draco.”
Harry’s head was swimming. “I’m- sorry for your loss? Sorry, but- what does marriage have to do with any of this?”
Ron took pity on Harry’s confusion. “It’s a pureblood tradition mate, once the previous Lord of a family part of the Sacred 28 dies, the next head of the house has to be engaged before they can be named Lord. Hence,” he waved around vaguely, “this whole thing.”
“So all Draco has to do is be engaged?”
“Yes, basically.”
“And it doesn’t matter to whom he is engaged?”
Ron glanced questioningly at Harry. “No…not really. It would be preferred to be a pureblood but..”
I am about to do something so, so stupid mom please forgive me. Harry thought distractedly.
“Well, then there’s no issue since he’s engaged to me, is there?”
Five pairs of shocked faces stared at Harry, who squirmed sheepishly.
“I’m sorry, what?” whispered Narcissa faintly.
No going back now.
“Mhm, we’ve been engaged for, well, very recently now- uhm he might not have had time to write to you Mrs. Malfoy and really I did mean to ask for your permission but I ah- forgot?” Harry squeaked nervously.
Narcissa looked at Harry like he had grown another head. “You…forgot?”
“...Yes?”
Mr. Parkinson got over his disbelief and scoffed. “This is such a clear lie, Narcissa surely you don’t believe the lad, I mean, why would the Boy Who Lived even want Draco-”
“I do believe,” cut in Harry coldly, “that the reason the war got so bad is because people didn’t believe me in the first place. Why would I lie about being engaged to Draco?”
Ron was still staring at Harry in disbelief.
Narcissa cleared her throat and stood up. “Well, as you can see Mr. Parkinson, my son is very much engaged, so if you could take your leave now that would be-”
“Now hold on just a minute! I don’t see a ring on him. Why is that? If they are as engaged as you believe?” Parkinson seethed.
“Father, please-”
“Not now Pansy!”
“What. In the bloody hell is going on?”
Harry almost gave himself whiplash as he yanked his head towards a pale and weak Draco, who was leaning against a doorway and using crutches to support his legs. Draco, who could talk. Harry’s mouth opened but no sound seemed to be able to come out.
“Malfoy, are you engaged to Potter or not?” bit out Mr. Parkinson.
Draco sent a bewildered and panicked look at Harry, who only hoped that his pointed look was understood by Draco to play along.
Draco glanced at his mother and the Headmistress, then finally at the distressed Pansy and still frozen Ron.
“Uh, y-yes, actually. I- that is, we are engaged. To each other.” Draco stammered.
Mr. Parkinson peered suspiciously at Draco. “Are you sure?”
McGonagall seemed to have enough of the drama. “Right then, it’s past visiting hours, so I’m afraid everyone who isn’t family will have to leave. Mrs. Malfoy and Harry can stay. Out, out you go!”
Parkinson’s spluttered protests were ignored and Harry vaguely registered Pansy’s grateful and all too knowing look. Ron had seemed to gather enough of his senses to make his legs work as he was led out by the Headmistress.
The silence after the door to the infirmary shut made Harry want to apparate away and move to Northern Ireland to be kidnapped by fae. Actually, it was seeming like a better and better idea the longer both Malfoy’s stared at him in that quiet, assessing way of theirs.
“Potter.”
Maybe he could change his name, go to America and never return to Europe again.
“Potter.”
Even splinching himself would be a better fate than the waiting humiliation.
“Harry.”
“I- yes?”
Draco raised an unamused eyebrow at him. Harry could feel his face flush.
“Come on then, help me back to my cot. Unless your manners are still horrid when it comes to your fiance?”
“I, uhm- huh?”
Draco rolled his eyes, though there was an undercurrent of nervousness in his face. “Just come here you big dolt.”
Harry obeyed numbly and walked over as if led by a string.
“What do you need me to do?” he asked, feeling very much out of his depth and very, very confused.
“Oh, I don’t know Potter, just pick me up or something! Those muscles aren’t fake are they?”
This is it. This is how Harry is going to die. Draco just crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows.
“Today would be fantastic.”
“You would be a bloody prick even after you almost died. Insufferable ferret.” Still, Harry picked him up, a smile creeping on his face.
“Idiot wanker.”
“Tosser!”
“Git!” Harry laughed, passing by the cots until he found Draco’s to place him in.
“Careful, don’t make me divorce you.”
Draco was going to be the death of him.
Harry licked his lips nervously. “Well, we aren’t married yet, dear.”
Draco reached out hesitantly to thread his fingers with Harry’s. Harry was sure that his heart was pounding loud enough to be heard.
“Well, then. Where’s my ring?” Draco asked breathlessly.
Harry’s face broke out into a ridiculous, dopey grin as he dived down to lay on top of Draco.
“I’ll get you whatever ring you want.”