Celestial Being

The king thundered into the room, already scowling. It wasn’t the mood Draco was hoping for. Still, even Draco couldn’t blame King Harry when he took in the whole picture. His clothes were beyond rumpled, they even looked slightly singed. Seriously, one sleeve was charred. The crows nest that was his hair looked as if the king had been yanking on it all day in frustration. Dark bags under his eyes showed lack of sleep. He was, well, a mess.

Adding insult to injury, George strolled in, grinning like the cat that got the canary. He had less of a right to be, seeing how he was more singed and soot covered than the king, but that didn’t bother him at all.

“Family!” George called out a jolly greeting to the room.

If looks could kill the king would smite him dead. “Have just a little shame, George.”

George put on an exaggerated pout. “I apologize. Again. Terribly sorry there was the tiniest accident.”

The king’s face remained stern. “You lit my room on fire.”

“George Gideon Weasley,” scolded the mother in question, using the tried and true tactic of full names to display her displeasure. She had gotten to her feet and was walking forward to deal with the fuss.

“I hardly lit the whole room on fire. Just a table. Some old shoes. Knickknacks, barely. Hello mum, so lovely to see you, when’s dinner?” George smooth talked, still grinning.

“What’s this about you starting a fire?” Molly demanded.

George was already shaking his head. “I didn’t start it, I just bumped into it. And it’s fine. I put it out, no harm done.”

“Harm was done,” snapped the king. “Namely, you set my room on fire.”

George gave up arguing and instead shrugged in a “what can you do” sort of way.

“My god,” the king muttered in frustration. “Molly, can you just, do something with him?” King Harry sounded desperate. Unfortunately, Molly looked extremely skeptical. That was enough for the king to lose patience with it all. He turned his glare on the room, “Surely one of you can keep him in line.”

Of course, the king’s eyes found their way to Draco’s. It was like he didn’t even try, they were just drawn there by cosmic forces that wouldn’t let Draco hide. The king’s gaze held anger and frustration, but also a tinge of desperation that actually made Draco feel bad for a moment. Unfortunately, it was a moment too long and the king spotted the guilt on his face. Emerald eyes narrowed, directing all the suspicion towards Draco. While his focus was there, he had the chance to take in what was happening around Draco. Namely, the tension strung tight through Draco’s body, and how flushed his face was from his own anger. King Harry wouldn’t have missed how Ron had positioned himself directly between Draco and Colton, indicating the conflict King Harry had just missed. Bugger.

The bright side was that Colton definitely noticed the king’s focus on Draco, and he couldn’t stand it. “Darling, I'm glad you’ve joined us.” Colton stepped forward as he spoke, gracefully crossing the room and drawing the king’s attention to himself. Next to the king, Colton didn’t quite reach out to touch the frayed edges of his clothes. “What an awful incident. Perhaps dinner would calm your nerves.”

Colton’s presence clearly caught King Harry by surprise, as if he’d momentarily forgot the Slughorns in their entirety. The king recovered well enough. He shared his politest smile with Colton. The one that made clear the king had entirely closed himself off. The one Draco dreaded being on the receiving end of. There was no sign Colton could tell it was insincere. Just as he didn’t seem to notice the stilted edge of the king’s words as he answered, “I’m so sorry I’m late. We’re meant to be finishing the contract.”

This time Colton did touch the king’s arm. He didn’t notice how still the king went at the contact. “The contract can wait, you’ve just been through a fire.”

The king took a deep, steadying breath. It may have pained him to say it, but you couldn’t tell anymore when he responded, “It was hardly anything. Certainly nothing worth putting off an engagement announcement. Let me just…” the king glanced towards the drink table. “Why don’t you get your father and we can finish up those discussions?” He left too abruptly, but couldn’t be bothered to care.

Draco thought the king was charging towards the drinks, but at the last minute he veered. King Harry stepped around Ron, to end up at Draco’s side. He unceremoniously yanked on Drank’s arms, dragging the younger man to the drink table with him, with the briefest head shake at Ron signaling him not to follow.

Which left Draco as close to alone with Harry as he could get in a room full of people pretending not to watch them.

Draco grimaced as he watched the king search the table for something specific. “Charlie took it,” he felt compelled to say.

The king forced himself to breathe in deep to control his frustration. “Of course he did,” he muttered. The king breathed in again before grabbing a bottle at random. He paused then to turn back to Draco. “What was George doing in my room?”

Draco was all wide eyes suddenly unable to look at the king. “I don’t know.”

“Draco, you’re not a good liar. Please just answer the question.”

Draco couldn’t help himself, he bristled and glared. “I’m a perfectly fine liar, your majesty.”

The king stared right back. His jaw was clenched in frustration but otherwise he hid it well. He leaned in closer to Draco so he could speak without his voice carrying. “I’m not playing games, Draco. George just scorched half my table, and that rug you were so fond of.” For just a moment, the king’s eyes glanced downwards towards Draco’s lips, as if remembering their last encounter. His heated gaze shifted slightly, to a different sort of heat. He shook himself out of it to continue, “Charlie’s stealing my wine, you’re getting into it with Colton. I just need folks to stay out of trouble for one night. You know how important this is. Help me rein everyone in, just for tonight.” He said it like he believed Draco could do it.

Draco leaned in as well, until they were truly too close. Strangely, the king didn’t pull away. He just kept his hard gaze on Draco until Draco was second guessing his choice to try to push back. Draco didn’t dare lean back himself and show the king he hadn’t meant it. Now that he was here, awkwardly close to the point where he could feel the heat radiating from the kings body, he would have to act like it had been his intention from the start. Draco tried to keep his voice steady. “You know I can’t even rein myself in when I need to. How am I supposed to help with…” instead of speaking he just sort of waved at the room.

Begrudgingly, the king smiled. Not a large smile. His lips hardly twitched upwards, but the sentiment reached his eyes. It was a stark difference from the cold politeness he’d shown Colton earlier. The king tried to hold on to a stern tone but it fell away as he spoke. “It baffles me, too, but you’re like a Weasley whisperer. Every time I turn around you’ve endeared yourself to another one of my friends.”

More than ever, Draco hated his pale complexion. He couldn’t stop himself from blushing. He tried to hide it behind bravado. “They just admire me for my dazzling intellect.”

The king huffed. He glanced at the room, where the Weasleys were studiously Not Watching, and the Slughorns blatantly didn’t take their eyes away. He looked back at Draco almost fondly. “No one will argue that you aren’t smart, we’re just not going to say that’s what matters. The Weasleys… well, you know. They only like you when you show them your heart.”

This time Draco did lean back, to stop the words from catching him too closely. He could handle it from Percy, or even perhaps a meddlesome Ron, but the king had no right to say such a thing. Draco puffed up, building barriers between himself and the king. He spouted nonsense to fill the air, “When you’re clever, you can make yourself look however you want.”

The king cocked an eyebrow at Draco’s standoffishness. “I think it’s possible you’re not as clever as you think you are.”

For some reason, Draco blushed harder. “Oh, fuck you,” he bit out, aware he sounded petulant and still not stopping himself. The king gave it the response it deserved: silence. That had Draco bristling further. He crossed both arms and glared as hard as he was able. He wanted the king’s anger back. He knew how to handle that. This… Draco had to lash out at this. “You don’t get it both ways. So what if your friends like me? So what if they think I’m a decent person. You know me. You know exactly who I am. You decided what that meant years ago, and you’ve made it perfectly clear what you think of me. I’m good enough for you to…” Draco actually couldn’t say it. He couldn’t acknowledge how willing the king was for Draco to be just another man he slept with and threw aside. The words choked in his throat and he had to swallow them down. “But I’m not good enough for anything else. I’m not good enough to be your friend, I’m not good enough to be anything. So you don't get to joke. You don’t get to do a damn thing.”

King Harry stared at him, finally without words. They might as well have been in private with how little awareness the king had for the people around them. His eyes were only on Draco.

“Stop staring,” Draco hissed. “You’re being weird. And Colton’s going to be jealous because he thinks we’re sleeping together and you’re supposed to be convincing him to marry you.”

The king did blink then, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He ran a hand through his already ruffled hair, pulling at the roots as he steadied himself. He tried to pull himself back to formality. “Let’s hope that just means he signs the contract quicker,” was the king’s retort.

Draco’s face fell at the blithe answer. “Because you’re charging extra for fidelity?”

King Harry winced. “Yes. Obviously.” only he sounded strained.

Still, obviously. Obviously what? Obviously he was using every advantage to get money out of the Slughorns, or obviously the king wouldn’t be faithful unless he was contractually obligated? Draco couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Are you charging Prince Viktor extra as well?”

That was the moment Draco pushed him too far. The king’s face snapped closed, leaving only a calm, polite expression behind him. He stood rigid in front of Draco, leaving Draco uncertain if he’d respond at all. The moment dragged. Finally, in the blandest possible tone, King Harry said, “No. We’re probably going to have to pay him.”

Draco’s laughter was sharp and loud. He took a step back to give himself space to breathe. He took no satisfaction in the king’s obvious suffering. “Fine, fine,” his words were loud, carrying to everyone. “Go do your contract. I’ll keep everyone out of trouble.” He was bitter over sounding bitter. He might have lashed out further, but in the back of his mind he knew his mother was watching. She’d seen all of this and someday soon he’d need to try to explain why it left him so upset.

Draco’s words had been a dismissal. A capitulation. He’d spoken loud so everyone could hear, and attribute their discussion to further scolding by the king, or possibly the king entreating Draco towards good behavior. He’d found a way out of their weird little huddle that would drum up all sorts of suspicion.

The king didn’t take the out.

“Draco. Please,” King Harry said, still hushed. Draco’s eyes widened. He glanced from the king to, well, everyone else who was watching. The king continued, “It’s not that I don’t like you.”

There was no way this was ending well. “What a relief,” Draco all but hissed the interruption before the king could say more. “I can go to my grave knowing you don’t completely hate me.”

The king reached out then, cupping Draco’s hand in his own. “Draco, please,” he said again. Draco’s wide eyes were glued at where their hands touched, now oblivious to everything else. The king squeezed his hand, and Draco’s eyes jumped up to meet bright green. There was something so hesitant about how King Harry looked at him. Like he might shut down at any moment and hide again behind his walls. Softly, King Harry asked, “Can’t we talk about this later? After?”

Draco glanced from their joined hands to the king. King Harry’s expression was open, emploring. Draco’s answer was stuck in his throat and he had to swallow it down in order to squeak out, “Fine. Okay. I guess.”

The king answered with a smile, small and tight and happy. “Okay,” he said. He squeezed Draco’s hand once more before letting it go. Draco’s fingers were still warm where he had touched them. The king’s lips quirked upwards. “Stay out of trouble,” he reminded.

Draco watched the king walk away. He watched King Harry apologize and reconcile with the Slughorns. Horace was perplexed, but fell swiftly to the king’s charms. Colton played the part of besotted lover whenever King Harry looked to him, but the moment the king’s gaze shifted Colton’s expression fell to suspicion and jealousy. Frequently, both were directed straight at Draco.

Draco shouldn’t have watched. It would be wiser to screw up his curiosity and look away. He couldn’t, though. Even if his face told too much. Draco knew he should look angry, or jealous, or anything that would build the king’s story that he was abandoning Draco for a lucrative marriage. That was Colton’s fantasy, but right now Draco was in the real world where he was overwhelmed by confusion and vague promises of after. He flexed the hand King Harry had held. It had been a gentle touch, like the king had given to a man in a mask he didn’t even know.

The King was leaving with a small entourage. Colton trailed, still staring back at Draco with red hot rageful eyes. Draco shouldn’t have stared back. He was too calm, too comfortable in his knowledge that this meant nothing. A swift formality of signatures, followed by whatever after had meant. A vague promise, possibly crushing, but until the heartache came Draco felt warm with hope.

He didn’t know how to keep the hope off his face, and Colton didn’t hide his suspicion and resentment.