Celestial Being

Yeah. So. That went great.

It was like some big puzzle made just for Draco to solve and he totally did it. Just like he knew he could.

Like, everyone in the end was so glad he was there. Andromeda said nice things and told him she was proud of him, because he was so clever and turns out she had a soft spot for manipulating shitty people.

Everyone was celebrating his brilliance and quick thinking, and he wasn’t even wearing a mask.

Draco was back in the mobile chair, off in one of the drawing rooms, filled with cheerful Weasleys and the Black family’s relatives, and he was totally as happy as everyone else here because they’d totally won. Plus, Percy was being recognized as a financial hero, and there wasn’t going to be any war, and it was all so, so great.

Fucking wonderful.

The king was going to be back any moment, all the way from the western boarder where he’d been organizing and encouraging his fucking army that had legit been summoned because maybe their country was about to be invaded. Not for a good reason, just Durmstrang had some shitty people too, and they’d been waiting for King Harry to do something that made himself vulnerable, like apparently be financially irresponsible and arrest his own overseer for treason.

So, yeah, like it was a big fucking deal. Such a big deal. It would be totally selfish and short sided to in any way fuck with solving this magnitude of a deal.

But it was better now. The good guys had fixed it. Hermione, with her smart brain, made a secret deal with Prince Viktor, and together they finalized what they’d already been planning to have happen - a political marriage.

That was. Yeah. That was great. Really great. It would, ya know, solve all of King Harry’s problems. Draco was totally… well, everyone was happy for King Harry.

So fucking happy. Draco’s smile was happy. He was just overwhelmed with happiness. That’s why he wasn’t talking. That’s why he clung to the drink George had slipped him and didn’t dare actually drink any of it, because he didn’t want to loosen his lips and be too loud with his happiness.

In a matter of weeks, the king would be married, and Prince Viktor would live here in the castle with him, and they’d share the room Draco had decorated with all of those pictures drawn by Draco and the king’s chosen family and Prince Viktor would probably like it. After all, under the king’s gruff exterior was a man who embraced silliness and held family above all. Prince Viktor probably had similarly hidden depths. King Harry would discover them, when they were married, and happy.

Fuck, it was kind of hot in there. Draco was sweating and probably gross. He couldn’t get up and take his coat off because he also was in no small amount of pain after he’d pushed himself too hard again, but he didn’t want to leave because everyone was here. Well, Teddy was in bed, and the Weasleys had sent all their children back to their ancestral home in case the kingdom was invaded since the castle would be the first target and it felt safer to get the kids away. Plus, apparently they’d be able to summon, like, a huge army to defend it, because there were just loads of people in the midlands who loved either the Weasleys or King Harry or both. Only, they wouldn’t have to, which was just another reason to be happy.

Yeah.

So.

Yeah.

Draco certainly wasn’t thinking about anything but all the happy things. He didn’t dare question… anything. Not… Not…

There was a rattle at the door.

Why the hell did Draco’s heart leap when King Harry walked in? He was disheveled, like always. His waistcoat was unbuttoned and you could see how he’d sweated through his shirt. He wore buckskins instead of proper trousers, and muddy soldier boots instead of proper shoes. His face was marred by the scratching of a beard he should have been rid of days ago, and his hair… he never could manage to do anything right with his hair. He was sloppy, and flushed with the exertion of rushing here, and not at all what Draco should have found appealing.

Maybe it was an excitement shared by the rest of the party. They were still jubilant from success. It was the sort of cheer brought on by relief that the completely certain horrid thing wouldn’t actually come to pass.

It had to be that. Draco absolutely willed it to be that. His quickening pulse did not pound harder than anyone else’s. Because he could not possibly let it be anything more. It certainly was not from the knowledge of what it felt like to have the king’s strong arms wrap around you, or the gentleness with which the king could lay his forehead on your brow.

“You want to get out of here?” It was George, right at Draco’s side.

Draco hadn’t seen him because he couldn’t see anything but King Harry. The king was being greeted by a small horde, and he mostly looked happy to see them, even if his eyes kept glancing for something else. Certainly not Draco - even though the king’s eyes stopped moving once they spotted the younger man, sat prone in his chair. Draco couldn’t read the king’s expression. Something sorrowful. Something fierce. Something in his eyes that may have been pleading, but god knows what for. He was being hugged by everyone, but he pulled himself out of their grasp so he could reach one person. “Hermione, we need to talk.”

Hermione, not Draco. It must be about the treaty then. Maybe the king wanted to know if Hermione had to pay Prince Viktor to marry him, after all.

Draco gulped. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

George took the still full glass out of Draco’s hands and set it aside before maneuvering the chair out a side door. “To your room, or somewhere else?”

Even the idea of being stuck back in that room made Draco light headed. “Can we get some fresh air?”

It was good it was George, because anyone else would have questioned the wisdom of that decision, whereas George just found a way outside. This exit was a quick thing. As a child Draco would run out this way, with a servant following in his heels, desperate to keep mud off his fancy clothes before his parents saw. They didn’t have to tackle stairs to get outside, but the door was too narrow for Draco’s chair so he had to stand up and walk. George and Draco sat down on the top of the stairway that led from the exit down to a walking path that would take you to walking gardens or the stables. Draco leaned against the stair railing and looked out at the grounds, lit up with lanterns so you could find your way in the darkening twilight. It didn’t look any different than it had in his childhood. The only thing that had changed was him.

“It’s strange to be back.”

George hummed thoughtfully. “You spend a lot of time here, then?”

“Most my life,” Draco admitted.

It felt different, saying these things out here in the dark. Maybe that’s why George came out and asked, “Did you think you’d get to come back here? You know, with Harry?”

It was getting dark now and Draco kept his eyes peeled for the first star in the sky. It gave him something to look at and he could tell himself his eyes were scratchy from the strain. It also meant he didn’t have to look at George. “You were the one who told me, don’t be one of his pretty boys. It was never going to go anywhere” He wasn’t used to blending the equinox world with his real world. It still felt like two different lives.

George’s sigh was heavy. He wrapped his arms around his legs and pulled them in tight. He followed Draco’s gaze and looked upwards. “You’re the one who always says those balls are magic. Maybe something magical happened there for you.”

Draco took in George’s words as full darkness settled over them. The lanterns flickered on land like stars up in the sky but they weren’t close enough to make the pair more than shadows. That was good, because a shadow couldn’t ache at the idea of having lost something.

“Can you believe I thought maybe it had?” Draco asked. “Like, maybe I had done enough, and now I could be just as powerful and important as before. Damn my pride, but I wanted to be as important here as I could be at those damn balls.”

George nudged his friend. “You’re important, Draco.”

Draco didn’t accept the comfort. “I can bamboozle a bully for a day, or charm a king for the night, but it won’t work again tomorrow.” Draco laughed and it sounded hollow. “I’m always caught up in my own head, I miss the bigger picture everyone else is facing. Did you know Charley lectured me on how poor people didn’t have food? I thought mother and I had fallen as far as was possible, but we never even considered what it would be like to starve.”

“Pain is not a competition, Draco.” George scolded gently.

Draco needed George to understand. “You lost people, in the war?” he asked. George said nothing. “You never talk about it. But I know you did.” The nothing was hard in the air but George didn’t break the silence. “You all lost people. That’s why everyone was so afraid of another war.” Draco nodded to himself because he’d named what he had felt for days. A cold desperation brought on by knowing the consequences of failure. “There’s not much I can really do that matters, but I can put my pride aside so you don’t have to go through that again.”

George didn’t answer. He leaned his head down face first onto his legs and left it there. He lifted a hand from his legs to card over the remnants of his mangled ear. Draco waited for him to talk about it. He’d never asked what happened, and George never said. Draco waited a very long time and George only gave him silence.

It was rather melancholy out there in the dark. Also peaceful. Draco rested a hand on George’s back and rubbed small circles into tense muscles. Neither of them said anything. Neither made the other pretend they were even the tiniest bit happy.

All castles have noise, but it was the crunch of boots on gravel that drew the men out of their contemplation. George uncurled himself. He pulled his hand down from his ear. His whole body stretched out long, then settled into a casual slouch, matched by a casual smirk that overshadowed other features. The change happened so fast. Like George’s body was well versed in hiding his internal misery. Like it had been a precious thing that he ever let Draco see it.

There was more crunching. Someone walking towards them on the path from the stables. Draco could see the figure as he passed by lanterns along the path. Tall and regal, elegant even after what must have been a hard ride based on his windswept hair. Draco could recognize the shape of Prince Viktor now. If not the outline of his profile, then from the casual way he carried his authority. It reminded Draco of how his father, if his father hadn’t been so cruel.

The prince missed a step when he saw the duo on the staircase. It was too dark to see the emotion on his face. He caught his footing and kept walking. When he came into the light from the windows of the castle he looked perfectly poised.

“Gentlemen,” the prince said in greeting.

“Your majesty.” George had a way of making anything sound mocking. Draco pinched him to cut it out. George snickered but otherwise restrained his bad behavior.

“The king’s back, if you wanted to see him.” It twisted something in Draco’s gut to say it, but it was the proper thing to do.

The prince’s eyes flickered between the two men on the stairs. Draco noted how Prince Viktor’s eyes lingered on where they touched at the hip, and how Draco’s arm was still slung round George’s back. Something like hope flickered over the prince’s face. Draco’s gut twisted worse to know the prince wanted him to be infatuated with someone else. He must be afraid of where Draco’s affections lie. Prince Viktor had said he did not want to be cuckolded. He would marry for politics, but he still didn’t trust the king.

Draco wished he could summon his happy face as easily as George had adopted his disguise. He wished he’d gone back to his room instead of catching Prince Viktor looking vulnerable out here in the dark.

New noise. The creak of a door. More light flooded out from behind Draco, and when he and George turned it was an unwelcome silhouette greeting them. The king was so different than the prince in profile. Wide and solid and rumpled. His eyes were drawn to Draco on the stairs, as if no one else existed. “I went looking for you and saw that chair contraption abandoned inside. You okay?”

He went looking. For Draco.

Draco turned round to see if Prince Viktor had heard and Draco knew he had because his face was cold.

Draco cleared a suddenly dry throat. “Good. Great.” It sounded as false as he feared it might. “George is a bad influence, of course, but Prince Viktor has kindly seen to it that I remain in good health.”

Draco had meant it as a compliment for the prince, but his face only grew stony.

The king saw Prince Viktor then, looking hard as rocks and much less welcoming. “Oh, hello Viktor.” The king wasn’t cold so much as apathetic. He stood awkwardly at the door, uncertain of what to say to his fiance.

“You two should go inside. Talk things over,” Draco encouraged. That at least he could say with sincerity. Prince Viktor looked skeptical, but he took a tentative step closer to the staircase.

Of course King Harry ruined it. “Draco, Andromeda says you’re not yet recovered. Let me get you back to your room so you can lie down.”

Draco closed his eyes and breathed deep through his nose. He had new found sympathy for what he must have sounded like when he demanded to see the king. Like he didn’t think it strange at all that they be alone together, sharing special treatment. He opened his eyes to see Prince Viktor stuck still at the bottom of the stairs, not even looking up at them. Draco wondered if the Prince would refuse to follow through on the treaty, if King Harry ruined this.

Draco could salvage this, though. He couldn’t do much, but he had to be able to do that. “Prince Viktor, could you go in with his majesty and see if Erik and Yuri could come out? They’ve been such a help.”

The prince turned back to Draco, his expression unreadable. “The king offered to help.” There was no emotion in his voice but it sounded like an accusation.

“Pssh,” George snarked. “I wouldn’t trust Harry to carry my sister, the big oaf. Besides, you two are interrupting.” Neither royal looked ready to take the hint so George put a finer point on it. “Go away, lovebirds. I’ll get Draco to bed safe.”

It was the endearment that got through to Prince Viktor. His face scrunched up like he tasted something sour. Draco didn’t look back to see how Harry took it. He stared fixedly back up at the stars as the prince walked by, and ignored the king entirely as he was pulled back into the castle where he was needed.