Celestial Being

Hermione must have been angry because she didn’t yell at Draco. Instead, with minimal explanation, she foisted him off on Andromeda and stormed away.

Draco was on edge after his fight with the king. He was afraid to look at his aunt. He expected her to be stern. He expected to see hints of Aunt Bellatrix’s anger, like when he first met Andromeda and couldn’t tell the sisters apart. 

Andromeda walked to Draco and lifted his chin up until he would meet her gaze. He resisted, but her stubbornness was stronger than even Draco’s. It was Draco’s will that gave out and he flickered his eyes up to his aunt’s. Andromeda’s gaze held none of the terrifying emotions Draco had been prepared for. She looked on him only with compassion. It hurt to see such kindness. It opened up something in his heart that was just waiting for permission to ache. Andromeda’s gentleness gave him that permission, and before Draco understood what was happening he was sobbing out big, ugly tears. The sort of tears his father had said were for children, not grown men. Andromeda pulled Draco against her and held him as he cried, letting him drip tears onto her elegant silk shawl that Draco was certainly ruining.

“I know you think you’re being asked to do more than you can,” Andromeda murmured in Draco’s ear, “but that’s only because you do not yet know what you’re capable of.” She gently pulled Draco away from her shoulder and cupped his face in her hands. “You are not what you were raised to be. You’re not what I judged you as. You’re only the person you chose to become, a person who loves others more than yourself and who’s love gives you strength to do what otherwise would be impossible.”

“That’s not me,” insisted Draco. He didn’t feel like a person who loved deeply now, only a person who was tired and hurt and who said mean, prideful things when he got angry.

Andromeda smiled gently at him. “It is. Which is how I know you will find the strength to make yourself presentable, and then you will escort me back to the king’s party.”

Draco gripped her hands and stared imploringly. “Why do I need to go back at all? I’m not good at this. I keep screwing it up.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Andromeda stated without a shred of doubt.

“I told the king-”

“Draco, he is the king. It is his responsibility to act with grace and treat his people with respect. It is not your fault he does that part of the job so poorly.” It was Andromeda’s exasperated look, at the king’s expense instead of Draco’s, that convinced Draco she was serious. “The king needs a partner who can ease the weight of managing court without being so self serving they will undermine the work Harry is good at, which is serving the people of this kingdom. We’ve invited a special guest tonight who might just be the one, but we must be a united front and show that Harry is a good choice. It would be easier to run away, but the people you love need you. Never again will I doubt your ability to deliver for the ones you love.”

Draco remembered George’s plan: rehabilitate the king. There was no way George knew it was the same goal Andromeda had. Everyone seemed to think King Harry needed help to find a husband.

As Draco had said, he, the most lowly of nobles, certainly wouldn’t marry the king. If King Harry didn’t get help, what chance did he have to secure someone who’d actually be worthy of the throne?

So, Draco did make himself presentable. He accepted Andromeda’s handkerchief and scrubbed his face clean of tears. He let Andromeda tidy and smooth out his clothes. At the last minute, Andromeda undid Draco’s silver cravat with the pink one Teddy had borrowed off him earlier in the day. “Tell them Teddy asked you to wear it, after the king left from bidding Teddy goodnight.” It was one of many small details Andromeda drilled into him on the walk back to the ballroom.

“Why do I need to say that?” Draco asked after the third instruction.

“They’re gossiping about you. We need to cull the rumors before they disrupt our plans,” was Andromeda’s vague explanation.

Draco’s stomach flipped. He was so tired from already having spoken with more people today than he had in perhaps the last three years. He wanted to go back to being invisible at Grimmauld Place instead of facing a gaggle of gossiping courtiers.

The party was at full tilt when the pair walked in. Those who desired gossip more than dancing still stood near the entrance and turned their eyes to Draco and Andromeda when the herald announced them. Draco could feel eyes raking over him and nearly flenched under the scrutiny. Only, he could handle this. If Teddy were next to him Draco would not hesitate, no matter how exhausted or in over his head Draco was. He could harness that same strength to survive the evening and accomplish whatever task everyone thought it critical he be present for. So, Draco rallied.

He pulled on a polite smile and nodded graciously to anyone seeking his acknowledgement. He must have done well enough, since after a few minutes Andromeda introduced him to a pair of eager courtiers before kissing Draco on the cheek and leaving on her way.

“It’s so wonderful to see you again, Draco!” said one of the courtiers. Draco realized they had met. This man had attended Luna’s picnic. He had thought Draco one of the servants.

Draco tried to add warmth to his smile. “Yes, quite.” He could hardly focus on the people he was talking to. Instead, he was nervous about every tiny thing. Draco didn’t know what to do with his hands now that he wasn’t holding onto Andromeda. He remembered King Harry’s awkward attempt to shove his own hands into his dress pockets. He didn’t want to do anything foolish like that! So, Draco held his hands rigid at his sides, probably broadcasting his awkwardness to everyone watching.

“So you and the king then?” his friend pried. She raised a brow in the least subtle attempt to suggest hidden meaning.

Draco wasn’t sure he got the meaning. To buy time, he looked around the room for the king. As always, he wasn’t too hard to spot.

King Harry was among the elegant dancers, being led by a tall, thin man with dark hair and eyes, and impeccably made clothes that stood out from everyone by being completely black. “I believe his majesty is over there,” Draco said, pointing. He probably was watching too long, his curiosity getting the better of him. The two men looked good together. Regal.

The picnic man prodded and distracted Draco from his thoughts. “Earlier, though, when you left together?”

It was some solace for Draco that these people were worse at courtly intrigue than Draco. He couldn’t imagine what they were actually hoping Draco would say. Hearing the question asked so blatantly, though, did explain why everyone thought it important to address the rumors. “You mean when his godson asked for him?” he asked.

“But you were in here for an hour before you left. Surely you couldn’t have known his godson was asking just then,” the woman said, her eyes shining with glee like she had caught Draco out.

Ah, they knew he’d been lying about that. Thankfully Andromeda had coached him through his response. Draco allowed his smile to wane, even if he wasn’t sure he accomplished the confused expression he hoped to use to replace it. “He goes to bed at the same time every night. I had to wait until he would be ready,” Draco fabricated an explanation.

The woman looked crestfallen at Draco’s easy evasion.

“Why have you changed your clothes?” the picnic man asked, pointing at Draco’s cravat.

Draco looked down at it. “Don’t you recognize this? The duke was wearing it earlier. He asked me to wear it after he went to bed.”

Now both courtiers looked doubtful. Not at Draco, but rather at whatever the rumors about Draco had been saying.

“Ah, excuse me. I think I see a friend calling me over,” Draco lied to have an excuse to leave the conversation, hoping he’d stayed long enough and said the right things so the new gossip would be in Draco’s favor.

Unfortunately, the path Draco took to escape led him past someone he wished he wasn’t familiar with.

“Draco! You look marvelous. Come, tell me how your summer has been since your charming picnic,” Colton was somehow more charming and more overbearing than the previous duo. Also, Draco felt on much shakier ground on how to answer. He wished he had something in his hands so they’d have something to do.

“You’re too kind, Colton,” Draco deflected, as he’d seen his mother do when complimented at court. He leaned into self deprecation for the rest. “Summer in the countryside is so peaceful. I’m better suited to a picnic than to so fancy a ball as this.” He tried to think of a question so he could let Colton talk until it was appropriate to leave. “You look so natural here. What do you do with your hands to stop them being awkward?” Draco lifted his hands awkwardly to demonstrate his struggle.

It surprised a genuine laugh out of Colton, and for a moment the man looked like the younger version of himself that Draco once played with. “Well, let’s start with holding a drink,” Colton suggested, nabbing two glasses of wine from a passing waiter and handing one off to Draco. Colton tapped their glasses together and drank, so Draco followed suit. Draco gulped at the cup, probably more than was appropriate and certainly more than Colton had.

“Do you suppose the king drinks so much at these events because he feels awkward, too?” Draco asked.

Colton laughed again, but this time it drummed up memories of an older boy who had turned cruel. “What wicked things you say,” Colton murmured.

Draco’s face flamed in embarrassment. “That was inappropriate, I’m sorry.”

“No, not at all,” Colton appeased. “Clearly, you and the king are quite familiar. You’re probably used to saying such things to him.”

Draco frowned, uncertain at Colton’s meaning. He tried to remember Andromeda’s coaching but she had not prepared him for this. She had said, though, when in doubt try to be honest. “I don’t really speak to him much at all.”

“I thought you must,” Colton said. His gaze held steady on Draco, building pressure for Draco to explain. It was Draco’s nature to chatter and joke in stressful situations, but he understood now what everyone said about him being more careful here. Colton would take advantage of any wrong move Draco made. So, Draco held out, and Colton was the one to speak next. “How did you get him to attend your picnic?’

“Oh, Luna invited him,” Draco explained. “They’re good friends.”

“Have you two not also become good friends? I hear he visits you frequently.”

“Uh,” Draco stumbled. “He visits Teddy frequently, I just live there.”

“I thought you called him Edward?” Colton said with humor much more sinister than Hermione’s had been.

Draco tried to laugh it off. “What a dunce you must think me. It was only a few years ago we were matched in social skill, but it seems you’ve outpaced me in every way.”

Colton hummed and tapped his chin. “You might think that, but I haven’t been able to get the king to come to any of my parties,” he tried to say it airily but Draco could hear the jealousy in the remarks.

“Oh, he seemed quite fond of you at the picnic,” remarked Draco.

Colton let his affable mask slip to narrow his eyes at Draco. “Does it upset you, knowing he was quite fond of me?”

Draco didn’t have to fake confusion this time. “No?” it sounded more like a question.Even if it was a little bit of a lie.

Colton pursed his lips. “What about him?” he pointed at the dance floor, where the king was gliding by in the arms of the other man. Up close, Draco could see his sharp profile. He had thick eyebrows and dark eyes, and while his nose was large and curved, his jaw was strong and together it came off as ruggedly handsome. “Does it upset you knowing the king hopes to be quite fond of the prince?”

Once again, Draco stared a moment longer than he should. He was unpracticed at withholding his thoughts. “They make a handsome pair, don’t they?” he said, his voice cold enough to imply emotion. Draco could see the gleam back in Colton’s eye and imagined he had once again said the wrong thing. In fact, while Draco was only still upset with the king for his earlier treatment towards Draco, it was entirely possible Colton thought he was jealous. “Do you think the prince would be a good husband for the king?” Draco asked to see if he could prevent further blunders by having Colton talk.

On this, Colton was willing to talk. He scoffed at the very question. “What do we need a foreign prince for? The king is practically foreign, having been raised in the north. He should marry someone of a true bloodline who can guide him in the ways of our kingdom.”

Draco was pleased with himself for not asking who Colton thought would be the best fit for that job. He nearly smiled at his ability to show restraint. Instead he asked another question. “Do you think that’s possible? They’re getting on well, and it would be a good match for both parties.”

This time Colton’s smug expression gave himself away. “These things have a way of working themselves out,” he said elusively. Colton glanced at Draco then, his eyes flickering over Draco’s body in a way that left Draco feeling slimy.

Draco licked his lips nervously, gripping the cup of wine that he was too nervous to keep drinking less it loosen his tongue. He was not winning this tête-à-tête and felt an overwhelming desire to leave. “Ah, excuse me. I think I see a friend calling me over,” he lied again, this time more awkwardly than the last. For the second time tonight it felt like he was running away. He didn’t actually run. In fact, he made a point of walking steadily as if he had no care in the world, still pausing to smile and nod to courtiers as he passed. He walked right up to Neville Longbottom, who he didn’t actually know well enough to call a friend. But Draco was desperate and he was willing to plead. “Please talk to me about anything so Colton Slughorn doesn’t know I used you as an excuse to run away from him.”

Neville paused only a moment, then he bellowed out a laugh that drew glances from everyone around. Neville clapped Draco on the shoulder and said, “If you insist. It just so happens I had the most fascinating encounter with a family of moles that were tunneling under my tomatoes.” It was not a fascinating encounter, but if Colton was watching he would be convinced Draco was riveted.

The evening dragged on. After Neville, Draco stumbled through stilted conversation after stilted conversation. The courtiers had different levels of skill, but one thread was constant between the conversations: what was Draco’s relationship with the king?

Were they good friends? No, Draco was the king’s godson’s cousin and friends with his majesty’s friends. Did they spend time together when the king visited? Not much, they shared meals and occasionally spent time together with the king’s godson. Was the king always so affectionate towards Draco? Draco answered that with a question - was the king being affectionate towards Draco? Draco had hardly talked to him the entire evening.

No one shared the gossip directly with Draco, but he was beginning to get the idea.

Just as Draco saw the courtiers begin to trail out for the evening and he soared with hope, the hope crashed down hard. While he’d been watching the door and dreaming of his bed, someone had walked up to greet him.

“Lord Malfoy,” said the Prince, with only the mildest of accents.

Draco was caught so off guard he actually jumped. “Your majesty!” he gasped, before dropping into a bow. Once again he wished he bowed lower to show deference, but he still hadn’t trained himself into the habit.

Prince Viktor Krum smiled politely at Draco. “I have been seeking to make your acquaintance.”

“Me?” Draco squeaked.

“Certainly. Would you care to dance?” the prince asked.

Draco looked around as if there would be anyone nearby to give him the correct answer. He had been tired before he arrived, and after hours of making a fool of himself in front of courtiers his brain was drained and he wished only to collapse. It was enough that he would reject anyone else’s advances. However, Andromeda had made it clear how much it mattered that the king find the right match. The right match would help the kingdom, but maybe more importantly Draco’s friends and family. He could muster up a smile and accept the prince’s offer.

Prince Viktor led Draco gracefully to the dance floor. Draco stepped into position next to him. The music started and Prince Viktor took the first step, gracefully leading Draco across the dancefloor. Draco was thankful he had attended two balls and had knocked the worst of the rust off his feet. He quickly unlocked the muscle memory of his years of practice, allowing him to meet the prince’s skill and precision. The music picked up tempo and so did Prince Viktor’s steps. Draco matched him beat for beat. The prince led Draco in a series of twirls that left Draco laughing from the dizzy sensation.

“You’re too fast for me!” Draco admitted.

The prince didn’t slow down. Draco looked at the prince’s face and did not see Draco’s good humor reflected there. Suddenly, Draco grew nervous and his steps stumbled again, the blunder noticeable to the crowds watching. Only then did the prince slow down.

After a moment of tense dancing Prince Viktor broke the silence. “I have heard much about you this evening,” stated the prince, staring past Draco instead of at him.

Draco tensed, hard enough that the king most certainly felt it where their arms joined. “I’ve been trying to catch the gossip myself, but everyone’s so coy. What are they saying?”

“That you are the king’s secret lover,” Prince Viktor said bluntly.

Once again Draco laughed, so authentically that it drew the prince actually looked at him. “What am I supposed to say to that?” Draco asked. The prince couldn’t know Draco’s true struggle, that while the rumor was completely fabricated, he also could not fully call it an untruth.

Ignoring Draco’s question, Prince Viktor said, “I will not be cuckolded.”

“Fabulous. I will not be sleeping with the king. It’s a win/win if I ever heard one,” snarked Draco, unable to help himself.

“You say you are not the king’s lover?” the prince asked. His piercing dark eyes burrowed into Draco.

“Heavens, no,” Draco insisted. “He doesn’t even like me. I don’t know where the rumor even came from.”

“They say you are intimate together.”

Draco’s mind flashed to the memory of thrusting into the king. He knew he was blushing and worried it would give him away. Draco cleared his throat awkwardly. “I, um, I do not have occasion to be, um, intimate with… you see… well I live with my aunt and this is the first time she’s allowed me out…” he stuttered over the words, aiming to hide his guilt behind youthful naivete.

Prince Viktor shook his head. “I used the wrong word. Affectionate. They say you are affectionate together.”

This just left Draco baffled. “We’ve hardly exchanged two words,” other than the fight, which clearly no one had heard, “these rumors are fabrications.”

“They say you make him laugh,” the prince countered. “The king doesn’t laugh.”

Draco gaped at the prince, at a loss for words. “Because the king is perpetually grumpy, they’ve decided I’m his secret lover?” he asked.

The prince’s shrug was elegant. “You are his lover, or he wants you to be,” he said as if it didn’t matter which. Draco tried to pull away from the prince but Prince Viktor gripped his hand tighter. “I want to know your character, Draco. I have good friends who I trust to tell me about the king, but no one can tell me about you.”

“There’s nothing to know. I am a nobody, the king thinks of me as no more than a babysitter for his godson,” said Draco, his heart aching to admit it to this stranger.

Prince Viktor shook his head, almost imperceptibly. “Tell me your character. Why should I trust you?”

The song was coming to a stop, but neither man walked off the dance floor.

“I would never do anything that hurt Teddy,” Draco said as honestly as he could.

The prince stared at him, considering. “Can you say now that you have never and would never sleep with the king?”

Draco couldn’t hold back his shock at the question, so bluntly put before him. Prince Viktor stared at him with such intensity Draco believed he would see through any lie Draco might make. Draco gulped, afraid to say anything at all.

The prince didn’t make Draco sit long in his silence. Instead, Prince Viktor shared the smallest of smiles. He lifted Draco’s hand and kissed the back of it. “I am glad we had this conversation,” he said. Then the prince bowed respectfully and left Draco still shellshocked on the dance floor.