Harry struggles to find a Yule Ball date that he actually wants to go with (poor soul)
Mcgonagall’s example waltz with Ron is the very best thing that Harry’s seen all year, especially since all of the Gryffindors above 3rd year are there. He asks the twins, laughing behind him, “You won’t ever let him forget this, will you?”.
They respond in unison,
“Never!”
Harry’s a bit stressed about the Yule Ball, to tell you the truth. He knows he’s supposed to ask someone, and he sort of wants to ask Cho in the year above, but there’s someone else he’d rather go with… But is a champion allowed to go with another boy? He doubts it. And he’s not even sure he’s.. bisexual…
He’d read one of Draco’s growing collection of Muggle books the other day and one of the characters was bi- Harry had never come across the word until then and had had to ask Hermione what it meant, which was a super fun conversation. At least she didn’t ask him anything personal, although she must’ve been aching to- he’s just glad she’s letting him sort out his personal stuff by himself right now.
Anyway, he doesn’t particularly want to receive any more stares than usual at the Ball, so he decides he won’t ask the person he so badly wants to.
*
“What are the other three?”
Harry asks Draco this out of the blue in a Potions lesson, the blond jerking his head up to give Harry a confused look,
“You’ll have to be a bit more specific there, Potter, I’m afraid.”
Harry rolls his eyes, leaning over Draco to grab some more stinging garlic for their potion as he replies,
“The other three languages you speak. Other than French. You said you spoke four, in second year.”
Draco looks surprised at the question, but smiles softly at Harry as he responds,
“Well, English, obviously. Then Latin, although that’s not really a spoken language- useful for spells and runes though. The last one you have to guess.”
Harry laughs,
“If I guess right then what’s my prize? And don’t say treacle tart as I know you’re about to- I can get that from the kitchens whenever.”
Draco taps his cheek, pretending to consider this, while glancing up at the instructions to see the next step for their potion.
“Hmmm. Your prize can be… a question. Any at all. And I’ll answer it honestly. Also, you need to stir this till it turns ‘soft violet’, so don’t miss the colour change, okay.”
Harry’s eyes widen at this offer of a prize. He has so many things he wants to ask Draco. Literally thousands of questions that he’s either too scared to ask or knows Draco won’t answer anyway.
He nods at the blond over the steam curling from their potion, half-watching for the colour change as he stirs.
“How many guesses? Three?”
At Draco’s nod, Harry thinks for a few seconds and then responds,
“Arabic.”
Draco drops the pumice stone he’s using to grind up lavender and turns to stare at Harry, eyes wide and shocked.
Harry gasps dramatically,
“No. No way! I’m right, aren’t I!”
Draco continues staring at him, before sighing and nodding.
“How did you guess that?”
Harry shrugs,
“Dunno. Seems like a language you would know, that’s all.”
This is the complete truth- he’s honestly not sure how he knew.
“Well, congratulations Potter, you’ve officially scared me into believing you can read minds. My mother taught me Arabic, as the Black family are originally from Egypt. What’s your question?”
Harry’s about to answer when he notices the potion’s colour and scrambles to pull out the ladle, adding the 5 crushed lavender heads quickly.
He suddenly hears Snape behind the two of them,
“A close one there, you two. Another second and you would’ve been in a similar predicament to Mr Finnigan and Mr Thomas over there.”
Harry and Draco both glance over to the front of the classroom where the two Gryffindor’s potion is bubbling dangerously. It explodes in the next second, but barely anyone bats an eye as exploding potions are quite a regular event in many of Snape’s lessons.
Snape glides away to disparage other student’s potions and Harry, starting the next stage of their potion, tells Draco,
“My question is... Would you go to the Yule Ball with me? To annoy your father, I mean. Like, would you? Hypothetically?”
Draco doesn’t look at him, responding quietly with,
“Of course I would, Harry.”
Harry nods, thinking. He’s wondering why Draco called him by his first name (he barely ever does), and what ‘of course’ actually means. Does it mean ‘yes, duh’ or ‘yes, probably’?
He looks up from his potion to see Draco watching him carefully, face guarded.
“So? That’s settled then.”
Draco lets out a laugh, still looking at Harry strangely,
“Was that your way of asking me to the Yule Ball, Scarhead?”
Harry nods, and then shakes his head, and then nods again. He’s not sure what he meant when asking Draco- the question had just sort of come out because he’d been wondering who Draco was going to go with.
Draco looks tired, but smiles his soft, warm smile in response. Harry asks,
“Can I have another question? Considering I guessed right on the first go?”
“Fine. Just this once.”
“Would you have said yes if I asked you normally? Like, not just as a friend or hypothetically?”
Harry literally sees Draco’s face close off as Harry says this. He knows he shouldn’t have added the as a friend bit, but he’s weak and too afraid to admit he sort of wants to go with Draco for a different reason than to annoy Lucius Malfoy.
The blond doesn’t answer, the bell going after a minute of silence as Harry waits.
As they finish packing up all their things, Draco turns to Harry and murmurs,
“You should ask someone else to the Ball, Potter. I don’t want to be your pity date when there’s so many girls out there dying to be asked by you.”
With this, the blond sweeps away in a Snape-esque manner, so fast that Harry doesn’t even have a chance to stutter protest at this.
*
After this strange (more so than usual) Potions lesson, Harry goes to the Gryffindor common room to collapse onto a comfy red sofa and feel sorry for himself, but mostly angry for the way he’d phrased asking Draco about the ball. He had mostly been curious about who the blond would go with, of course, that was all.
Hermione sits next to him on the sofa and pats his back, handing him some chocolate and a mug of tea before asking,
“What happened?”
Harry sighs into the soft red sofa pillow.
“I’m such an idiot, ‘Mione. The Chosen idiot. Harry idiot Potter. The idiot who liv-“
“Okay, okay, you’re an idiot, got it. Why are you an idiot?”
Harry mumbles into his pillow and Hermione sighs,
“Harry, I’m sorry but I really can’t hear a word you’re saying because you’re currently having a chat with that pillow.”
He sighs again, dragging himself back up to a sitting position, pulling his knees to his chest. He turns to look at Hermione and then explains the whole sorry situation, quietly so no other Gryffindors in the common room hear.
When he finishes, Hermione looks thoughtful, and then she gives Harry a serious look,
“Harry. Were you being serious when you asked Draco to go with you? Did you actually want to go with him, I mean, or was it just hypothetical and to annoy his father, et cetera?”
Harry bites his lip, before telling Hermione,
“I don’t know.”
This is just a weak way of him saying: the first option.
Hermione nods, looking a bit sad but also musing. Harry adds,
“Why?”
“Mm. No reason, at least not now. Okay, I think you need a new plan of action, Harry. I doubt Draco will go to the ball with you now no matter what you do- we both know how stubborn he is. But what you can do is an apology, if you want to fix it.”
Harry nods, before hugging Hermione and thanking her gratefully. She’s his favourite person for talking to about anything personal- she always seems to solve things with tea, hugs and advice, and it’s honestly the best method.
*
“Er, Harry, I have a bit of a favour to ask..”
Harry glances up from his far-too-long Potions essay to see Ginny giving him an awkward grin. His Potions essays always seem to be so long these days- he has so much to write down that he goes over the word count and actually has to cut stuff down. If first year Harry could see him now..
He gives Ginny a friendly smile,
“Yeah, sure- unless it’s to do with spiders, I think Ron’s fear’s rubbed off on me. What is it?”
“Not to do with spiders, promise. It’s actually sort of to do with, er, the Ball?”
Harry sighs internally. He really hopes Ginny isn’t asking him to the ball- rejecting her would feel worse than all the other girls who’ve asked so far.
Ginny sees the look on his face and laughs a little, before adding,
“I’m not asking you to go with me, don’t worry Harry. I was just wondering if you would ask Luna, for me?”
Harry is very confused right now.
“Luna? But?”
“Well, me and her wanted to go together, you see, as, er, dates, but we’re both third year’s so each need to go with a fourth year to get in. I’m already going with Neville- he knows the whole plan with Luna too- and I heard you moaning to Ron yesterday about not having a date.. so?”
Harry is a bit shocked by this, but it does make sense- Ginny and Luna are very close, Harry guesses he didn’t know how close. They do make quite a good couple, he thinks now. He’s a bit jealous of the way Ginny just tells him outright what her and Luna mean to each other. He has no idea what him and Draco are, and he’s not sure if he will ever find out, at this rate. But he wants to, rather a lot.
“Of course I can ask Luna, why not. I’m really happy for the two of you!”
Ginny’s face breaks into a true Weasley grin and she gives Harry a quick hug, telling him ‘thanks a bunch’ before running off.
Later that day, after asking a delighted Luna to the Ball, Harry goes up to the common room feeling pretty good about life. The need for a date for the ball had been hanging over him. He can’t wait to tease Ron about still not having a date, when he notices his best friend sitting by the fireplace also looking rather pleased with himself.
“Get a date then, did you?”
Ron shoots him a sheepish grin, but doesn’t respond.
Harry sits down next to his friend and asks,
“Well? Who is it then? Pray do tell”
Harry puts on a fake posh accent for this last part, but Ron only smiles mysteriously.
Ron finally speaks,
“It’s sort of a surprise. I’m only going with them as a favour- well, a deal really.”
Now this sounds very strange. Harry shoots Ron a calculating look, wondering who this could be. He puts on his best puppy eyes,
“Please! Ronald Bilius Weasley. Aren’t I your best friend- we ran from giant spiders together! You can tell me.”
Ron raises an eyebrow, but shakes his head, still grinning slightly.
“Nope. You’ll find out on Saturday, mate!”