Chapter 12
“That was incredibly stupid,” Hermione huffed as they landed (thankfully) in the living room of the Burrow. “There’s no evidence that you can travel by floo without declaring your location out loud.”
Ron laughed, kissing her on the cheek. “Well, there is now.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “That was so dangerous, though. Why didn’t you apparate us?”
Harry blinked. He hadn’t even considered it. “I wasn’t thinking,” Harry admitted. “But anyway, the last time we did that without warning, Ron ended up splinched.”
“I don’t fancy experiencing that again,” Ron said, rubbing his shoulder.
Hermione kept grumbling as they joined George, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley at the table for lunch.
“How did it go, Harry?” Ginny asked curiously.
Harry shrugged, as he scooped up a fussy Teddy from Ginny’s arms. “I’m on the team.”
Ron let out a low whistle. “You should have seen him. I’ve never seen you duel like that. Robards really didn’t hold back.”
Harry blushed, and turned his attention to feeding Teddy, who was impatiently shoving his fingers into his mouth.
“Seriously, Harry. I’ve never seen magic like it,” Hermione commented as she buttered her bread. “When did you get so good at wandless magic?”
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s easier to control than the Elder Wand.”
“Only you would complain that the Elder Wand is too powerful,” George chuckled.
Mrs. Weasley was frowning. “I know that Robards wouldn’t put you on the team if he wasn’t absolutely sure that you were ready, but I don’t like the idea of you being out facing those Death Eaters.”
Harry opened her mouth to reassure her but was surprisingly interrupted by Hermione. “He’s already a target for them, Mrs. Weasley. I fancy his chances better if he’s surrounded by a team of trained aurors,” she said calmly.
Harry grinned at her. “I’ll try my hardest to stay safe, Molly,” he placated.
“I suppose you’re right. As much as I hate to admit it, you’re not little kids anymore,” Mrs. Weasley harrumphed.
“Ginny’s still sixteen,” Ron said cheekily, ducking to avoid the mash potatoes that flew across the table.
When they got home, Kreacher greeted them and offered to take their coats. “Master Malfoy is wondering if Master is available.”
“Of course,” Harry said, fighting to keep the excitement out of his voice.
Hermione and Ron took Teddy upstairs as Kreacher opened the floo and went to get some tea.
“Hey,” Harry said quietly when Malfoy appeared. He did not look well – he seemed even paler than usual and had large dark circles under his eyes. “How are you?”
Malfoy sat down on the couch with none of his usual grace. “She only just went to sleep,” he grunted, covering his face.
“What wrong with her?” Harry asked, trying not to sound too indelicate.
Malfoy shrugged. “She’s destroyed her mental walls. She can’t compartmentalise anymore. It’s like she’s reliving all of her memories at once.”
Harry frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Malfoy waved him off. “Not your fault,” he grunted, gratefully accepting a cup of tea from Kreacher.
Harry didn’t want to argue with him, but he was fairly sure it was his fault. “Still.”
“I saw the paper. You did well today,” Malfoy abruptly changed the subject. “I wasn’t expecting there to be quite that much press. I should send Ambarella flowers. Did you get the job?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, I meet the team tomorrow.”
“Exciting,” Malfoy smiled genuinely. He turned thoughtful. “I wonder how the people will react.”
“Why does it matter?” Harry asked, but quickly thought better. “Sorry, I know it does.”
Malfoy nodded approvingly. “You’re learning, Potter.” Malfoy sat up properly now, having downed his tea at an inhuman rate. “How was the Manor?”
Harry grinned. “It was fantastic! You should see it – its huge. The elves are really nice. Apparently, I have a Pegasai – can you believe it? I want to move there as soon as possible.”
“You should,” Malfoy said. “If it’s possible, you should host the Pledge and the Ball there. I assume you have a Ballroom?” he drawled aristocratically.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes. When is all this happening, by the way?”
Malfoy stretched his neck. “The Pledge will have to be before the 15th – that’s when the first Old Council meeting will be. Midsomer is on the 20th, so you can host your ball the night before. I’ve already arranged catering and entertainment, but I’ll have to organise the other stuff with your elves. We should send the invitations by the end of this week. I’ll have to go through the etiquette with Granger, Weasley and you before then. You’ll need a date for both the meeting and the ball. Do you have anyone in mind? They’ll need plenty of warning.”
“What’s the Old Council?” Harry asked. “Neville mentioned something about the Old Crowd. Is that the same thing?”
Malfoy nodded. “The Old Council are the heads of the Families. The Sacred 28, essentially. It meets once a month, except for in war time. I’ve been a few times as an heir but this is the first time I’ll go as a Head. There’s a meeting for about an hour, which is dedicated to politics and magic. Essentially, everybody decides how they’ll vote in upcoming matters of state. This month will probably be about the Statute of Secrecy and the Dementor’s Kiss.”
Harry shuddered. There was a proposed bill that all of the Death Eaters that were convicted will be sentenced to death by Dementor’s Kiss. Harry wasn’t sure how to feel. His first instinct was to be vehemently against it. It was a horrible fate, and not one he would wish on anyone. On the other hand, these were witches and wizards that had not only killed for Voldemort’s cause but enjoyed it. They had destroyed so many lives, including his own.
“Why would we discuss the Statute of Secrecy?” he asked, not wanting to think about the Dementors any longer than strictly necessary.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you’ve not heard. It’s all anyone can talk about. Dumbledore proposed that it be removed.”
“Why?” he asked, shocked.
Malfoy shrugged. “According to Dumbledore, we should work with the muggles. Use their knowledge and power to develop and introduce them to magic so that they can develop too.”
“But that’s bonkers,” Harry said. “It’s all well and good in theory, but we can’t do that. They’ll want the magic for themselves.” He was surprised to hear his voice say all that, but the more he thought about it, the more he knew it was true. “There’ll be another war.”
Malfoy smirked. “I’m pleased you think so. I wouldn’t worry about it – it’ll never pass. We’ve been talking about it for twenty years. You won’t like the other side of the argument, though,” he warned. “Some of the Old Crowd want to bring back the Blood Laws.”
Harry wrinkled his nose. “The ones where they take muggleborns away from their parents?”
Malfoy nodded. “I don’t think that’ll pass either, especially after the war.”
Harry sighed. “Why can’t there be a happy medium?”
“You want to try to come up with something that both sides will agree on?” Malfoy asked, raising an eyebrow. “I admire your tenacity, Potter, but I don’t fancy your chances.”
Harry shrugged. “So, what do we do next?”
Malfoy stood up and grimaced. “Next, we visit your manor.”
Ron, Hermione, Harry, Teddy and Malfoy were soon standing on the grassy knoll that faced Potter Manor. Harry turned to Malfoy, who was looking green.
“Come in, Malfoy,” he said, revealing the castle that he was about to call home.
Malfoy nodded, still white, and followed the trio silently to the front gate. Roslyn was waiting for them.
“Master!” she cried happily. “I am glad you came back.”
Harry ducked his head. “Thanks, Roslyn. This is Draco Malfoy,” he said, gesturing to the blond.
Roslyn smiled as she took their coats. “Pleasure to meet you, Master Malfoy,” she said, curtseying. She grimaced slightly but tried to hide it. “I have met many of your elves. The Malfoy family are neighbours to the Potters.”
Malfoy barked out a laughed. “You’ll be glad to hear my father is no longer around to mistreat his house-elves, Roslyn.”
The elf had the decency to blush but lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m sorry for your loss, Master Malfoy.”
“I like her,” Malfoy said to Harry, his face returning to its normal colour. Harry grinned, feeling proud of his elf. Turning to Roslyn, Malfoy continued. “Potter intends to move into this house. Is it ready?”
Roslyn nodded. “We have converted the secondary Principle Bedroom into a nursery for baby Teddy. There is a connecting door to Master Harry’s rooms, and there is plenty of space for him to grow up.”
“Thank you,” Malfoy nodded. “Can I see the ballroom? Potter will be hosting a ball for Midsomer’s. I’m sorry we’re only giving you limited warning.”
Roslyn squeaked a little, but nodded, leading them up the grand staircase into the hall of mirrors and through to a large but empty room with a few steps leading to a small stage at the rear. Malfoy nodded approvingly. Roslyn smiled. “We haven’t had a ball in so long!” she said excitedly. “I’ll get Hokka to start preparing the grounds. You will need bonfires, yes?”
Malfoy nodded. “Make sure there’s a pond or fountain nearby the bonfires. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” At Harry’s confused look, he explained. “On Midsomer’s, everyone writes their wish for the year on a piece of paper and places it in the bonfires. At midnight, the fires go out, and every collects a piece of charcoal, which you wear for the rest of the month to bring good luck to you in the coming year.”
“That’s a lovely tradition,” Hermione commented. “Does it actually work?”
Malfoy hesitated. “It certainly makes your magic more powerful when you wear your beads. Your wish doesn’t always come true – that’d be impossible – but sometimes it does.”
“I wished that you and Harry could come to the Quidditch World Cup with us in Fourth Year. I was certain his muggles would say no,” Ron offered. “The next year, I decided to be a bit more vague.”
Harry shrugged. “It was fun at the beginning.”
“A lot of our adventures were fun at the beginning,” Hermione joked.
Malfoy turned to Roslyn. “There’ll be a 30-piece orchestra, which can go up there,” he indicated to the platform. “In terms of food, we’ll only be needing light refreshments, which can be served outside. I’ll organise some tents.”
Roslyn nodded. “This wall can be removed,” she suggested, waving a hand at a wall covered in mirrors. The wall melted into the ground, pooling before forming into a delicate marble staircase that led down to the gardens.
“Excellent,” Malfoy complimented. “Do you have enough space in the stables to host the carriages?”
Roslyn frowned, but nodded. “Hokka can extend them. How many guests?”
Malfoy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We need to sort out the guest list. More than two hundred, definitely. I shouldn’t think more than three.”
Harry looked at him in surprise. “Two hundred people? I don’t know a hundred people!”
“Of course you do.” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You’ll need to invite the Sacred 28, and all of the people that belong to those Houses. Not to mention your connections at the ministry, a few representatives of the press, and all of your friends.”
Harry looked at him with trepidation. “I don’t know, Malfoy,” Harry said, biting his lip. “I don’t even know how to dance.”
Malfoy nodded. “I’ll teach you. You too, Granger, Weasley. Speaking of, you’ll need a date who can dance. Who are you taking?”
Harry sighed. Hermione would go with Ron, and he was sure Ginny would ask Wilda Griffiths, her on-again, off-again hook up from the Holyhead Harpies. Luna would be going with Neville, no doubt. “I don’t really have anyone to take. Can’t I just go stag?”
Malfoy considered for a moment. “Yes, as long as you dance with a few eligible witches and wizards. It might be good, actually. That way no one can cast aspersions, but you can lift the reputation of certain families. You’ll definitely need a date for the Meeting, though,” he warned.
Harry turned to Ron. “Can I take Hermione?”
“Excuse me,” Hermione interjected. “I’m right here. Ron’s not my keeper.”
Ron smirked. “Nope, I’m not. No one would be able to keep you, anyway,” he smiled, kissing her on the cheek.
“I’d love to come, Harry,” she said, pointedly ignoring her boyfriend. “It’ll be fascinating.”
“Fair warning, Granger: you will not be allowed to speak during the meeting. No matter what anybody says. Only the Heads can speak,” Malfoy warned. “Do you think you can keep quiet?” he asked, doubtful.
Hermione nodded indignantly. “Of course I can, Malfoy.”
Malfoy sighed, but shrugged. “If you’re sure.” He turned to Roslyn. “Can she borrow the Potter jewels?”
Roslyn smiled. “You will look beautiful, Mistress Hermione,” she said quietly.
Harry was surprised to hear he had jewels, although he was starting to think being surprised was fairly commonplace around Draco Malfoy.
“Alright, let’s begin,” Malfoy said, removing his outer robe. Harry passed Teddy to Roslyn, who began playing with him on the floor. “This is called the Dance of the Fae. We’ll do it without music first so that you can all get the hang of it. You weren’t too bad at the Yule Ball, Granger, you can demonstrate with me.”
Malfoy walked slowly towards Hermione and held out his hand and he bowed, almost kissing her fingertips. “Weasley, Potter, notice that I’m bowing from my hips. My head, neck and back are all in a straight line. It’s not a dramatic bow, either, just a shallow one. Think of it as having your eyes at their breast.”
Hermione and Ron went pink, but Harry couldn’t stop staring at Malfoy’s jawline as he rose from his bow and raised his left hand. “Mirror me, Granger.” Malfoy and Hermione’s hands faced each other but didn’t touch. They walked slowly in a circle. “1 and 2 and 3 and,” Malfoy counted, before they switched hands and directions.
“Okay, now raise your left hand above your head. Not straight, Granger, just delicately. Okay, now we touch fingers. The music will change here. Now we waltz,” Malfoy instructed. “Resist the temptation to look down. It’s much easier to dance if you aren’t looking at your feet.”
Hermione lasted four steps before glancing down at her feet. “Granger, eyes up,” Malfoy admonished. “I’ll say it out loud. Back, back, left, left, forward, forward. See, easy,” he said, doing the opposite with his feet. “You only have to do it for 12 counts, anyway.” He released her fingers and closed the gap between their other hands. With a flick of her wrist, she twirled out. “Go under my arm,” Malfoy said. “Now, pull my hand across your body to your waist.”
Hermione did as instructed, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “What now?” she demanded.
“Hands on my shoulders,” Malfoy said, as he held her waist, lifting her easily and turning in a circle. When he returned her safely to the ground, he murmured, “Go with me, Granger,” and dipped her backwards, one hand on the back of her neck. When they returned to standing, Hermione was bright pink. “Right, that’s the first half,” Malfoy said. “Weasley, Potter, your turn.”
Hermione half-ran into Ron’s arms. “Who will Harry dance with?” Hermione finally said, finding her voice.
“Me,” Malfoy shrugged. “I’ll be la femme.”
Harry gulped, but was half-glad he didn’t have to dance with Hermione – he wasn’t sure Ron’s nerves could take it.
“Right,” Malfoy started. “Bow to your partner,” he instructed. Harry felt heat rising to his cheeks but was determined to not give Malfoy the satisfaction of him failing.
Harry, making sure to keep his back straight, leant over Malfoy’s hand. His lips were so close to them, he could also taste the vanilla and sandalwood hand cream he had seen the man use at his kitchen table.
Malfoy wasn’t looking at him. “Good, Potter. Weasley, back straight.” Harry rose, trying not to feel too pleased about the praise. Harry raised his left hand without waiting for Malfoy to tell him. “Good, Potter,” Malfoy muttered, clearly surprised.
“My memory isn’t that shoddy, you know.” Harry quirked an eyebrow. Malfoy smirked as they switched hands. Harry watched as Malfoy followed his lead so gracefully, and he let his thoughts run wild as he prowled forward. Momentarily distracted, he almost forgot to raise his hand above his head as they completed the circle.
Malfoy’s fingers were cool in his palm as they started the waltz. Harry happened to know vaguely what to do here, having been Neville’s reluctant partner a few times prior to the Yule Ball, but had only danced the lead once. He held his breath as he remembered the steps. Forward, forward, right, right, back, back, he thought, refusing to look down. Malfoy smirked as they kept their eyes locked.
He released their fingers and Harry spun him out, perhaps a touch more forcefully than he should have. Malfoy took it in his stride and continued the twirl under Harry’s arm without prompting. Pulling Harry’s hand to his waist, Malfoy held his breath. Harry could feel the blond’s hip bones jutting out from his torso. Lifting Malfoy was easier than lifting a broomstick, but the move brought their closer together than any fight had at school. Harry could feel Malfoy’s cool breath on his lips.
Before he could chicken out, Harry lifted a hand to the back of Malfoy’s head, memorising the feeling the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and leant forward. Malfoy was soft beneath his body, and went easily as Harry dipped him, like putty in his hands.
They were both breathless when they stood up, and Harry had to blink a few times to clear his thoughts from Draco Malfoy’s red lips and flushed cheeks contrasting with his pale skin.
“Ow, Ron,” Hermione laughed as Ron stepped on her foot, again. Their playful argument dragged Harry from his thoughts.
Malfoy groaned. “Weasley, come and dance with me. Granger and Potter can dance together.”
Ron spluttered. “Fuck off, Malfoy. I’m not dancing with you.”
“By all means, embarrass yourself and your girlfriend, who is way out of your league, by the way,” Malfoy sneered. Ron scowled, but it was enough for him to begrudgingly place Hermione’s hand in Harry’s.
As Hermione and Harry danced, Harry couldn’t help but glance at Ron and Malfoy. The green monster that resided in his chest was pleased to notice that Malfoy was holding Ron much further away than he had Harry.
“Harry,” Hermione whispered, getting his attention the third or fourth time Harry glanced over at the other couple. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”
Harry sucked in a breath. “I don’t know what you mean,” he whispered back stubbornly, keeping his eyes resolutely on Hermione for the rest of the round.
They practised for half an hour before Malfoy determined that they were advanced enough to learn the second half of the dance.
“The next bit we do is essentially a grapevine. Potter, Weasley, you will be on your partner’s left, holding their hand with your right. We stand in a circle,” Malfoy instructed, grabbing Harry’s hand and pulling him so that they were standing opposite Hermione and Ron.
As a group, they poorly managed to do a very basic grapevine (or shuffle, in Ron’s case) to the right. “Again,” Malfoy said, moving in the opposite direction. Harry resisted the urge to look at his partner.
“Good, now, Potter reach for Granger’s hand and spin her so that you swap places,” Malfoy said, and grimaced before continuing. “After, we will do the same,” he said to Ron. Ron winced, but did as he was told.
As soon as Malfoy was returned to Harry’s side by a disgruntled Ron, he reached for the blond’s hand. Malfoy took it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Turn to face your partner,” he said. “Boys, with your left hand, hold their right above your head, like you did before. Granger, reach behind your back with your other hand and find Weasley’s.” As he spoke, he placed his other hand delicately in Harry’s. “Now, waltz,” he instructed.
Harry didn’t need to be told twice. Without glancing down, he moved through the motions of a waltz, keeping his eyes on Malfoys. This new position required them to be much closer, and Harry let a smile grace his lips as he stared into the pools of silver that were Malfoy’s eyes. Malfoy released on of his hands. “Now, with the hand that was behind your back, Granger, move to hold hand through the diamond that your arms make in front of your face.”
Harry didn’t have to think through the steps with Malfoy as his partner, and they kept moving in a waltz as they joined hands in a far more intimate way. “Untangle your arms,” Malfoy said. “Gracefully,” he added, wincing at Ron and Hermione’s attempt. He sighed. “We’ll work on it. Granger, left hand on Weasley’s neck. Weasley, Potter, two hands on the back of your partner’s waist and lift and turn,” Malfoy said, smiling as Harry effortlessly lifted him again.
“Okay, now, put your right hand on the other’s cheek,” Malfoy said, looking hesitantly at Harry. Harry wanted to touch as much of Malfoy’s body as he was allowed, so he reached for Malfoy’s cheek first. His jaw was taught, as if he were clenching it, and Harry could feel a light amount of stubble. Malfoy lightly touched Harry’s cheek, and Harry wanted to do this forever. They walked in a circle. After a moment, Malfoy told them to spin away from their partner. Harry did as he was bid, although he savoured the feeling of Malfoy’s face in his hand for a millisecond longer than he should have. When they faced each other again, Malfoy smiled brightly at him.
“And that’s almost it,” Malfoy said. “Just bow, and Granger, you and I curtsey.”
Harry bowed low over Malfoy’s hand, his eyes not leaving the blond’s even for a moment. Malfoy’s cheeks were slightly pink as he ducked his head in a delicate imitation of a curtsey.
Harry cleared his throat as he looked away. Ron and Hermione were gazing at each other in a way that Harry had never see them do before. Ron closed the distance between their lips and planted a sweet lingering kiss on her lips. Malfoy and Harry glanced at each other, and both looked away with embarrassment when their eyes met.
By the time the five of them returned to Grimmauld Place, they were ravenous, cranky and exhausted. Harry had given Kreacher the evening off in an attempt to improve the elf’s spirits before he told him of his plans to move out. Harry sighed, wondering if he could be bothered to cook, but ultimately decided on takeout.
Harry had only had takeout a few times in his life, but he revelled in it, as it always featured in his favourite memories. Nights when the Dursley’s went out for dinner, and Harry would scrape around underneath the couch pillows for a few coins, order some pizza or some Indian with the house phone, and watch something on the telly that he wasn’t meant to touch.
Harry was especially fond of Indian food because the Dursley’s hated it, almost more than they hated magic. Harry wondered if it reminded them of his father. The Dursleys had never said anything overtly about his ethnicity, except for one time in primary school, when Dudley had tried to copy one of his friend’s words for Harry’s skin colour. It was the only time Petunia had come to Harry’s defence, although she seemed less concerned for Harry’s wellbeing, and more concerned for Dudley’s reputation. “The Dursley’s are not racist, Duddykins,” she had admonished, although she glanced at Harry with disdain.
Hermione and Ron both loved when they got takeout, so Harry excused himself from the three people in his living room. Hermione and Malfoy were nose-deep in parchment again, and Ron was feeding with Teddy. He ran upstairs to change into muggle clothes. As he made his way to the front door, he paused. “I’ll be back. Do you like spicy food, Malfoy?”
Malfoy shrugged. “Sure,” he said distractedly, his forehead creasing as he read what appeared to be a particularly confusing legal document.
Harry grinned and leisurely walked to the local place, revelling in the cool evening breeze. On his way, he popped into an off-license and bought some chocolate. Years of staring daggers across the Great Hall at Malfoy fortunately meant that Harry was quite knowledgeable of the man’s taste in food. No matter the occasion, Malfoy would nearly always be eating chocolate, and Harry suspected he hadn’t eaten it in a while.
He blushed when he realised what he was doing, buying chocolates that he knew Malfoy specifically would like. He might as well be buying roses. Is that what he was doing? Was he really attempting to seduce Draco Malfoy?
Harry gulped, remembering the magical dance they had shared that afternoon. Yes, he was. He was seducing Draco Malfoy.