The First Dance
Harry’s responding laugh sounds a bit crazed. Draco simply sighs in relief.
“Is it-” Harry asks. Draco nods.
“It’s over. We can do whatever the hell we want now,” Draco says, taking the deepest breath he can. He stumbles a bit, still clearly light headed. Harry moves to guide Draco so that he falls into Harry’s embrace instead of to the floor.
“Did you want – Can I – would it be alright if I k-” Harry says, not such how he should phrase it. Then he remembers that it probably doesn’t matter how he phrases it anymore.
Draco’s body shakes in his arms. For a split second Harry panics until he realizes that Draco is laughing.
Draco pulls himself back just enough so that he’s facing Harry but not so far that Draco loses the support of leaning on him.
“Please tell me you aren’t honestly worried I don’t want you,” Draco says.
Harry shakes his head. “No, I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to … you know right now...”
“Please kiss me, Harry. Until a few minutes ago, I was literally dying for you to.” Always one for dramatics. But no, it’s too soon to be joking so cavalierly about his death. So Harry decides it’s time to shut him up.
Harry pulls Draco toward him, closing the distance between their lips. He presses his mouth firmly to Draco’s. He’s gentle at first but it doesn’t take long for Draco to open his mouth, granting him access. Harry knows he should probably control himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers that they aren’t alone but he pushes that thought aside.
Harry tightens his grip around Draco’s waist and pushes their bodies together. Draco is following his lead and he does so enthusiastically.
The taste is sweet, mercifully like some kind of candied tea rather than actual roses. There’s hints of copper and it dawns on Harry that he’s probably swallowing some of Draco’s blood. He doesn’t care. He wants more.
Draco’s arms rest loosely around Harry’s shoulders. He’s taller than Harry so Harry tugs him downwards, applying just enough pressure so that Draco is leaning into him while Harry stands upright. A soft noise escapes from Draco and it’s just enough.
Harry breaks away for a second but just as Draco goes to inhale, Harry’s pulling him back again. This time he runs his fingers through Draco’s hair, knocking that pesky crown off kilter. He knows Draco’s already a mess but he won’t be fully satisfied until it’s clear that he’s Harry’s mess.
Finally, Draco’s fingers dig into Harry’s back. He starts pressing harder and harder. This is a request. And when Draco’s knees buckle and he fully melts into Harry’s arms, it’s time to grant it.
Harry breaks the kiss and listens as Draco pants in his ear.
“Can’t breathe,” Draco says, “give me a second.” Draco can feel Harry smile into his chest.
“So you’re saying I take your breath away?”
They both start laughing but after a moment, Harry stops, allowing himself to really listen to how Draco sounds this time. There’s something different about his laugh and Harry realizes that it’s because it’s not interrupted with any wheezing. He could listen for hours.
“Ah-hem.” Both boys are then reminded that they are surrounded by their classmates. Harry could not care less.
“Problem Pansy?” Harry asks cockily. She blanches at the use of her first name and the arrogance dripping from Harry’s voice.
“Draco,” she says, completely ignoring Harry and clearly trying to stop tears from ruining her makeup, “Draco, I’m so happy.”
Draco untangles himself from Harry’s arms though it takes a bit of effort. Harry doesn’t want to let him separate.
“Harry, I did just survive my own funeral,” he says, shrugging coyly when Harry glares at another mention of him dying. Harry won’t scold him today. “I should probably talk to my friends.”
“I – yes, that makes sense. I’ll find you in a bit?” Harry says and suddenly his entire persona shifts to that of a kid asking if he can have desert.
“Yes, of course,” Draco promises and he lets Harry drag him into another, shorter, kiss. Harry ignores some snickers and whooping that is definitely coming from Ron. He vaguely hears Hermione too but he can’t tell if she’s trying to join him or stop him.
Instead, he looks at Draco’s dazed smile and his adorably pink cheeks. The crown of roses hangs crookedly on his head and his dress shirt is untucked; his tie is loose around his neck. Draco must know that his hair’s a mess and his clothes are rumpled and dusty from the whole ordeal on the floor. It doesn’t seem to bother him in the least.
Harry decides he was wrong. Living suits Draco most of all.
At some point, music had begun to play signaling the start of the ball. The lack of exits is going to be an issue but they can worry about that later.
Harry lets Draco catch up with his friends and he lets his own friends tease him mercilessly. They mostly center their comments around Harry’s shameless kiss and his sarcastic words to Pansy though sometimes they mention how obvious Harry had been the whole time.
Each time they mention it, the list of ‘things they all knew but couldn’t say’ gets longer. Harry finds it alarming how quickly the hyperbole is growing.
“She just found out her best friend wasn’t going to die, Harry,” Lavender tells him, “and you – you were annoyed she wanted you to remove your tongue from said friend for more than five seconds.”
“I’m sorry! I just … you know what, I’m not sorry. The kiss was absolutely worth it and you all are just jealous,” Harry's voice is confident but the deep blush dusting his face gives him away.
“Merlin Harry,” Sean says, “you’re worse than Dean and me.” When had those two gotten together? Harry supposes he really had stopped paying attention to things after he started paying all his attention to Draco. Perhaps the list wasn’t that exaggerated after all.
When Harry sees Draco sit down to eat, he breathes a sigh of relief and goes off with to do the same with Ron and Hermione. Though he finds he really misses Draco already, he doesn’t want to seem even clingier than he already does.
Thankfully this version of the Great Hall is equipped with adjoining bathrooms. When Hermione heads off to one, Ron excitedly pulls Harry to the side.
“I’m going to tell Hermione I love her tonight,” Ron says dreamily.
“Wait, really? Tonight?”
“Yes. Isn’t it exciting?”
“It … is but I thought you two were doing this complicated courting ritual or some other nonsense.”
Ron gives him a dirty look and something about the color of Ron’s eyes seems a little off. Harry wonders if Ron might be drunk. He wouldn’t put it past the ancient magic to give them booze tonight. Hell, they’ve all earned it.
“It’s not nonsense and we have been,” Ron tells him.
“I thought you stopped when you were worried that Hermione might be Draco’s beloved.”
Ron laughs, “Oh yeah, I forgot we were ever so stupid. Draco’s clearly nuts about you. Always has been.”
“So when did you start back up?”
Ron’s eyes glaze over as he looks up happily. “After the holidays. Most of the exchanges are poetry anyway.”
“I thought it was complicated.”
“It is. The grammar rules are ridiculous. I spent over a week on one of the poems and you know what Hermione did? She sent it back with notes, Harry. Notes. But it doesn’t matter because I figured it out and we did what we needed to and it’s time.”
“I… I’m happy for you. And I’m sorry I wasn’t more help.”
“Don’t be. You’re the reason we’re all making it out of this alive. Everything is going to be okay.” Harry is reminded of when Draco told him the same thing. Everything had not been okay then. But now, he’s ready to believe it will be.
When Hermione rejoins them, it’s clear she wants to dance so Harry insists that Ron asks her. He’ll be fine for a while by himself.
At first, Harry enjoys watching everyone else dance. It’s nice to have nobody pay attention to him for a change.
Luna and Neville catch Harry’s attention. They are dancing together. Or rather, dancing near each other. Or at least, moving near each other. Neville sways gently to the music, a dopey grin on his face. In this moment, it’s hard to picture the same boy brandishing the sword of Gryffindor and slicing through Nagani to destroy a fragment of Voldemort’s soul. Of course, that Neville and this Neville are one in the same.
Luna, for her part, twirls and curtsies and gesticulates wildly with her arms. Harry guesses this counts as dancing. It certainly makes him feel less self conscious about his own skills. They look happy regardless.
He watches his best friends dance (far more traditionally) and giggle and kiss. And Harry is happy for them. Harry has always been happy for them. The only difference now is that he no longer feels left out.
In fact, as Harry surveys the dance floor, he finds that nearly everyone has paired up. Sean and Dean dance in the center of the floor, trying to garner as much attention as possible. Most are ignoring them though, in favor of their own dates. When did everyone find time to get a date for this event?
Then, Harry catches two Hufflepuff girls, both 5th years he doesn’t know very well. Harry frowns at first, thinking of what might have happened to them had Harry failed. It was foolishly brave of them to stay. But they seem to have no regrets as they kiss beneath the twinkling lights, layers of fresh moss beneath their feet.
Finally, Harry makes his way over to some unusual benches and throws him self onto one. The benches look like they are made of wood but Harry finds the one he’s chosen, at least, is surprisingly comfortable.
It’s also quite unique and Harry wonders if perhaps Luna had been in charge of all these whimsical decorations.
Eventually, Draco saunters over to the bench Harry has sprawled himself across. Harry looks a bit lonely and lost, waiting for Draco to find him. Draco reasons that Harry looks too much like the protagonist in a tragic romance novel. Which is not cool because that’s Draco’s thing.
“Hey Harry, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you,” Draco says. Harry scrambles to re-arrange himself so that there is a spot from Draco to sit. Draco immediately accepts the invitation.
“What is it?” Harry asks.
“Well, this may surprise you but I have a crush on you,” Draco says. Harry rolls his eyes.
“Just a crush? That’s a shame. Because I’m in love with you,” Harry says.
Draco completely drops his mischievous persona and he looks so serious that Harry is momentarily worried that Draco is going to break-up with him. Actually, are they even officially together?
Yes, Harry decides because a confession performed via the Old Ways and blessed by the ancient magic is a far bigger commitment than just asking someone to be your boyfriend.
“I love you too,” Draco says.
“Wonderful,” Harry says, his smile returning, “in that case, would you like to dance?”
“I would.”
“I should warn you that I’m a terrible dancer.”
“I already told you I find all of that cute,” Draco drawls. Apparently poor dancing skills fall under Harry’s ‘lack of etiquette.’
Harry finds himself flustered by the compliment. Not wanting to let Draco ‘win’ this interaction, Harry swallows his nerves and replies, “glad you think so. And if we really need to, I can just lift you up and throw you around the dance floor. That’s close enough to dancing for me.”
“You can what?” Draco asks, his voice just a bit off. Perfect, it’s working.
“Yeah, I mean I’ve carried you before. It’s really no trouble. You’re light as a feather. And I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to just … make you do what I want,” Harry muses, flickering his eyes up and down Draco’s body for a few seconds and watching him squirm at the words.
“I-”
“Come on, darling,” Harry says, in his best imitation of a posh tone, dragging Draco with him.