Chapter 39
Draco minded the trek upwards, again, quite a lot. Of course it was because of the steps, which went on forever and showed Draco’s lack of stamina. He regretted that he was closer to the tail end of the much larger group of people returning. He was immensely grateful that Mars had stuck by his side, even though he suspected she had capacity to go faster and would have if Draco wasn’t holding her back.
Ultimately, this was fine, though. Draco had signed up for this. He’d known what he was getting into when the astrolabe rubbed it in his face and still dedicated himself to the challenge. Who cared if once again he was getting a beautifully crafted costume a bit rumbled and sweaty. It was fine.
What had been far less fine was the bickering he had to sit through between the nineteen- not two dozen, mind you, exactly nineteen, they kept saying - people in the chapel over who exactly would go forward to the next step. Draco could bicker with the best of him, but this hadn’t been the pleasant sort. This was grown adults counting on fingers, talking about what twenty four minus seven meant, then how twenty four plus another nine somehow was also important, and also here’s how many people would need to stay in the chapel to balance out the groups of seven who would arrive with unknown invitations, except if you’re following the pattern, which someone definitely was doing and explaining in depth, it was likely there would be no shortage of observatory and ballroom cards in the future, if only someone stuck around and lined up the math.
Draco wasn’t even bad at math, truly. He excelled at all his subjects, his father would never have let him do otherwise. It’s just he came to this party to dance, drink, and look fabulous, and he had spent much too much time leaning against a wall feeling sweaty with no booze in sight, listening to people count.
Climbing up stairs getting sweatier was better than that, he supposed, if only just.
He heard the cheering up ahead when the first of the group reached the top, and it gave him hope that his legs wouldn’t have to scream at him for much longer. Everyone at the tail of the group rallied at the promise of this soon being done.
Then it was done, and Draco was being greeted warmly as if he belonged there, amongst all these strangers, and everyone was excited to have him. Bollocks, it was a head trip he wasn’t prepared for. Sure, at the first two equinox balls, he’d been welcomed. He’d been included in games. He’d won over individuals. Hell, he’d been lusted after.
He hadn’t been swept up in a hug by the Patil sisters, who finally let their stoic exteriors crack. He hadn’t been slapped on the back by two strangers telling him how he’d done good. He hadn’t been pulled into yet another huddle of clever thinkers who not only put their minds together to succeed, but thought Draco deserved to be among them.
He wasn’t crashing someone else’s event. He was meant to be here, whether they knew it, or whether he had truly realized it himself.
The huddle was a bit silly, though, because it was just the astrolabe explaining that she had definitely solved the puzzle while they were out, before launching into more counting. Draco humpfed loudly, but the shooting star was there as well, and she launched into a simultaneous explanation of how someone definitely left booze to be discovered in a cupboard, and by the way everyone please take a glass. Draco, the twin, Mars, and the comet were all willing to listen to math for that.
And really, all the math came down to was that three people would need to stay behind. Draco didn’t think they needed to take so long to say that. Twenty four, plus nine, divided by eight, was four groups with three left over. Less, perhaps, if there were five ballroom invitations. Then there would only be one person who couldn’t tag along. Draco was on his second drink when the astrolabe insisted on an inventory. He and his friends snickered behind their glasses, before the astrolabe glared at them and the group raucously supported the idea and demanded everyone pull out their cards.
It’s not that they didn’t care about the counting and math, just that they’d been through so much that night. They’d long since lost the actual game, which had only really mattered anyway when it was about having something to strive for. Draco didn’t feel like he needed anything to strive for, not with so many people around him not only putting in effort, but doing it with the assumption it was at least in part on his behalf. He was surprised to find himself, well, not content… there was still a lingering thought in his mind that held off contentment. Perhaps, though, he was happy.
Of course, there were five ballroom cards. Wise, committed, passionate people began to argue about what would happen next, but Draco and his friends didn’t. They were sitting on the floor now, their backs against one of the giant windows.
The twin was on the far edge of the group and he had to lean forward to glance over at the others. “We going or we staying?” he asked, like it didn’t mean anything to him.
Mars was tapping her fingers across the floor, still needing to constantly move. “Do we leave Charlie to his fate or go murder him?” she asked.
Draco nudged her shoulder with his own. “You should go after him. Tell him you forgive him or some rot,” he said. He was beginning to feel fuzzy again from the booze and it made him too honest. “That’s what I’d want someone to do for me.”
Mars slumped forward and grunted. “He doesn’t deserve it,” she muttered, but it didn’t sound sincere.
“So we’re all in for it, then?” Comet asked, with the same nonchalance the twin displayed.
Draco thought a bit. He glanced around the room, his eyes tilting up to the wide, tall windows. It had been peaceful, just staring into the night.
“I think I’m going to stay,” he realized it only as he said it.
“Oy, no you’re not!” said Mars. “We’re in this together.”
Draco’s lips twitched upwards. He nudged her again. “I’m glad we met tonight, but you should go, and I should stay. I’d quite like to enjoy the telescopes some more.”
“This isn’t you being noble again, is it?” the comet asked, side eyeing Draco as if he wasn’t sure he trusted people who were noble.
Draco could understand that. Noble people did things that only made sense if you flipped your thoughts on their head. He didn’t think he was doing that. Not even when he glanced around the room and saw the nervous faces of the people on the outskirts. The ones who didn’t have a clique of people already committed to them. The sort Draco should be part of, only he somehow was not. “No, it’s nothing like that.”
In the end, any number of people offered to stay behind with Draco. He found himself stumbling over reasons why they shouldn’t. It was all, “you should go take care of your brother,” or “you should stop your sister from murdering your brother,” and “You’re the only reason we’ve solved this, I’ll never forgive you if you don’t win.” It felt like they’d be winning, even if they didn’t come in first.
The comet surprised him by booth taking Draco’s side in pressuring their friends along, and finding a solution to the someone-gets-left-behind challenge. “We just need to send another group back to the chapel to pick up one more person. Then you’re back at even numbers, and eventually you should be able to hop out with another group.”
It was ridiculous, to send seven people back to come back with just eight, and Draco flat out refused to climb the stairs a third time.
It was just, he didn’t have to. The comet didn’t even have to. Seven volunteers came out of nowhere, Draco didn’t even know them. They’d been some of the ones trapped behind at the chapel that he’d gone back for, and they were more than willing to return the favor. So Mars squeezed Draco goodbye, and the comet clapped him on the shoulder, and the astrolabe shook Draco’s hand, and they went down the stairs with the seven strangers heading the opposite way so that Draco would have a chance to meet up together in the end.
Staring up at the stars and sitting in the enormous observatory with a handful of stragglers waiting for their friends to return, Draco felt like he had won. It would have been enough for him, just knowing he could have made it all the way and it was his choice alone that stopped him. This add on, where strangers refused to give up on him, warmed him to the bone.
He still wasn’t in a rush to go anywhere. He settled in for a long rest, unclasping his cape to lay over himself as a blanket, and pulling out the handkerchief the Weasley girls made him to wipe the sweat that had gathered beneath his mask while he had the moment to do so unseen. He relaxed back against his hands, savoring the moment of quiet.
He knew the ballroom would be fun. It would have the dancing and delight he’d been looking for. It also would be a lot more emotional toil and constant concern that if he slipped up and was too much of himself he’d lose control and the bigger game of concealing his identity, the game that mattered, would be up for good.
Out of nowhere, the clock in the room where the final clue was hidden began to toll. Twelve loud chimes rang out, noting the midnight hour. Draco smiled to himself, reminded of the first equinox ball when he really had to leave before he was found out. This wasn’t so different. Just, instead of rushing home to hide his choices from his household, he was staying put to hide himself from… everyone.
Draco had forgotten what it had been like, to be liked. Not that he truly understood, before. He’d had friends, but not in the way Mars and the twin and the comet had been his friend tonight. Draco supposed he had lackeys and sycophants, or manipulative bastards like Colton, each clinging to him because he could get away with nearly anything and would one day be a duke. While Draco had enjoyed their company, it hadn’t been the easy comradery of folks who were there just because they thought you a good sort of fellow that they wouldn’t mind having along. Nor had his childhood friendships ever required Draco to prove himself a decent person, like he had to this evening.
It made him wonder if his two worlds could ever meet. It was so easy, to prove himself when he was anonymous. Like it had been easy to play the game when he dealt himself an extra hand. Proving himself as himself wasn’t easy at all. It took risking his life as a child to help his cousin eat, or waiting hand and foot on sick family members to show he offered any value. Draco didn’t want another tragedy just so he could stand out in the real world where it truly mattered.
He also wasn’t sure he wanted to stand out here, anymore, where he couldn’t know if he’d get the same kindness and respect if he took off his mask. Because in these quiet moments when he allowed himself to think, he knew, whether he wanted it to or not, it did matter to him a great deal whether they would think differently of him if they knew.
He was still lost in thought when the others in the room cheered again. He looked up in time to see everyone return. Only, it was definitely more than one group and everyone was talking loudly and coordinating logistics. Draco turned back to the stars and let the room do what it would.
“Hey, we’re heading off now,” some said to draw Draco’s attention. There was a chorus of goodbyes, and statements of appreciation before the parting comment, “Our friends in the chapel are going to help line up the numbers so you two can get out soon.” Draco remembered then they weren’t talking to him alone, but it wasn’t until everyone began to leave that the partner they collected for him was revealed.
Of course, it was the sailor, King Harry. If Draco wasn’t ready to face his friends, he certainly wasn’t ready to face the king. Their eyes met for just a moment, just long enough for Draco to feel the heat of that intense emerald gaze. Then Draco turned away. When the crowd left, it was just Draco, and the king, and the silence between them.
The king approached Draco carefully, as if he knew he was unwelcomed.
“Come too close and I’ll steal something of yours,” said Draco, unable to help himself.
The barb gave the king pause. Then, instead of walking towards Draco, he beelined for a table that Draco hadn’t realized had drawers in it. The king pulled out several items and carted them all over to Draco, before plopping down next to the younger man and laying out his find. There was another bottle of alcohol, but also what looked like water, and some cheese and crackers as well.
“You can have whatever you want,” the king said.
Draco could only stare at the offerings. He didn’t dare meet the king’s earnest gaze. Draco shifted nervously. He did want some food, and some water, but he couldn’t just move on. Instead, Draco mirrored the words he’d used earlier that evening for Aergia, “I think you’d best save this for someone else.”
The king’s expression drooped like a sad puppy. “I was hoping I’d see you again tonight. I wanted to talk.”
Draco sighed and shook his head, looking back to the stars. He wished he was an astrologer and could read the future in the stars. As it was, the stars were beautiful but his future looked murky and unknown. He tried to tread carefully in this uncertain space. “I think we’ve talked enough. Let’s just enjoy the view until the next group arrives.”
“Please, Wolf, give me a chance. I’m sorry I upset you earlier, I wasn’t thinking and I didn’t mean it,” the king pleaded.
His words were unexpected enough that Draco did glance back. The king was leaning towards him, entirely focused on Draco. A look like that would send heat rushing through any man. Still, Draco couldn’t accept the apology. “You can’t just be nice to me sometimes, and mean to me when it suits you. You’re judgemental past the point of rudeness,” said Draco, not sure he was talking about the king’s behavior this evening.
“I’m sorry,” the king said again, crushing Draco more than a little. How many times had Draco called the king out on his actions only for the king to respond with anger? Now, though, looking at a stranger, the king was all sincerity and contrition. “It’s my nature to be suspicious, but I know that makes me harsh. I shouldn’t have thought the worst of you tonight.”
“I doubt you really mean that,” Draco answered.
The king was taken aback. “Of course I do!”
Draco shook his head. “No, you don’t. You’re saying it to me here and now because I’m anonymous and it means nothing to apologize to me and say you wish you were better. It only means anything if you think about how you treat all the people you dislike out in the real world and wish you’d treat them better, too.”
The king’s gaze grew hard, but no less focused. “If that’s what it takes. I wish I was a kinder person. I wish I could face conflict with effortless good will, and always keep a cool head and see the best in people. I want to be that way. Can that be enough? Wanting, but not yet knowing how?” It tugged at Draco’s heart to hear his yearning and to believe it.
Draco had to blink back his own emotions and look away. “You wouldn’t like me out in the real world,” he said, not for the first time. “How am I supposed to feel, knowing you can be kind to me when I wear a mask, but can’t bring yourself to be kind to my face?”
“You don’t know me, you don’t know how I would act” the king insisted.
Draco threw his head back and laughed. “Of course I know you,” he admitted, his eyes on the sky in front of him instead of the king. He hadn’t meant to admit it, but he didn’t know how else to make the king understand. “I’ve always known who you were.”
Silence stretched between them again. When the king spoke next his voice was strained. “Always?” It was a bleak rhetorical question. “And you just figured, this was your chance to sleep with the king?” He sounded pained instead of angry.
Draco scoffed. “Hardly. I didn’t want anything to do with you but you wouldn’t let up. This has been such a mess.” He couldn’t even blame his honesty on alcohol anymore, he was once again nearly sober.
The king paused for a long time, long enough Draco’s curiosity got the better of him and he looked back again. He caught the king watching him, all thoughtful and intense. The king bore into him with his gaze, trying to see deeper into him to discern some hidden truth. “Tell me who you are,” he said, more of a command than a question.
Draco shrunk in on himself. “You wouldn’t like me,” he said again. There were cleverer things to say, but that was the one Draco couldn’t let go of. It hurt every time the king was kind because he knew it was just part of the fantasy. Even still, he didn’t want to ruin every memory of every equinox ball by ending it here and now.
The king’s hand twitched with his desire to reach out to Draco, but he held himself back. “Give me the chance to decide that for myself,” the king pleaded.
“Why?” Draco asked, not actually wanting an answer. He licked his lips nervously before pouring out his anxieties. “It’s not like I mean anything to you. If I hadn’t been there, it’s not like you wouldn’t have just found someone else. In spring, you’d chosen out a room for sex and had all your supplies stocked up, and I doubt you’d planned that I’d be the one you took back for the night. These parties are fantasies. Nothing in them matters, especially not anything that happens between us.”
“It may have only been two nights, but they felt more real to me than months with other men,” shared the king. He cracked a small, self deprecating smile. “I suppose that may have been in part because I thought you didn’t know, and you liked me just for myself.”
Draco laughed again, imagining the king’s disappointment. “More like I liked you despite yourself.” He cringed hearing his own words. They sounded nearly affectionate. “Not that I like you at all.” That didn’t walk far enough back for Draco’s liking. “Fucking you meant nothing to me.” It was too harsh and the blood was pounding in Draco’s ears, but he didn’t know what else to say.
“Why are you lying?” the king asked, his voice soft and gentle. This time he did reach out and placed one hand over Draco’s. It was so warm but Draco refused to be comforted.
“I’m not lying,” Draco nearly squeaked. He didn’t want to be lying. He didn’t want it to have meant anything, so he didn’t have to feel anything now or ever.
“Okay,” the king placated. “Okay.” He rubbed a thumb over the back of Draco’s hand. He took a deep breath. “It’s alright if it didn’t mean anything to you. But you’re wrong, about how I feel. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I came tonight only hoping for the chance to see you again.”
Draco squeezed his eyes shut, but it only made the king’s hand feel warmer against his own. He forced out one word. “Why?”
The king hummed thoughtfully. “I had wondered, myself,” he shared, “But watching you tonight, I think I get it. You’re this perfect mix of determination, playfulness, and generosity. You win over everyone around you,” he shared a small, intimate smile before continuing, “no matter how broken down we may be.”
“You’re not broken,” Draco said, focusing on the one safe thing he could use to deflect form all the rest of the nonsense the king had said.
It was the king’s turn to laugh, lightening his entire body. “Yeah, you know who I am, but you don’t know me.” He fully took Draco’s hand in his own. “And I think I know you, but don’t know who you are.”
“No,” Draco said, uncertain of what exactly he was disagreeing with.
“Okay,” King Harry said, the word warm and comforting and in no way pushing Draco beyond where he wanted to be.
“I mean it. I don’t want that,” Draco insisted.
The king leaned against Draco, resting his head on Draco and gently kissing his shoulder. “Okay, whatever you want,” he said, sounding more resigned.
Draco’s heart was pounding. His mind was stuck on how warm his arm was with the king wrapped around it. “This isn’t what I wanted,” he felt the need to keep explaining even though no one was fighting him. “I just wanted an anonymous fantasy escape for fun. That’s all this was supposed to be. I don’t care who you are, it’s not supposed to matter.”
The king wrapped an arm around Draco’s back, pulling him closer. “I know,” he soothed. Draco hadn’t realized how tight he was squeezing his fists until the king’s other hand stroked one hand gently, easing Draco’s grip before he could hurt himself with his nails. “If that’s all you want,” the king paused mid sentence. Draco could feel him taking a deep breath and steading himself. “If that’s all you want,” he continued, “I can do that for you.”
Draco squeezed his eyes shut. “You don’t mean that.”
King Harry pulled away just enough that he could raise both hands to either side of Draco’s face, coaxing Draco to open his eyes and look into the King’s. “I told you. You can have whatever you want.”
Draco stared, unable to look away from the king’s earnestness. He felt warm and lightheaded from the gentle and supportive touches. This wasn’t anything like the past balls. This wasn’t anything like anything Draco had ever imagined. He felt like he was floating, but it didn’t feel like fantasy. It felt so, so real. The sort of reality you might regret, but not as much as you’d regret not going for it. Afterall, Draco always did make such stupid choices.
He was the one, this time, who deliberately leaned forward, until his body lined up against King Harry’s. Draco pushed the king’s hands away but only so he could wrap his own arms around the king’s neck, before pulling him in for a bruising, fervent kiss.