Dancing with Fire

Harry’s been in a room full of people that don’t like him before. Hell, during the summer he’s pretty much surrounded by assholes who don’t like him.

But the Dursleys don’t scare him anymore. Three angry, powerful, and glaring people that can cast deadly spells on the other hand....

He wonders briefly if Ron’s Quidditch Hero will be the one to kill him or if Draco’s cousin will do the honors.

Viktor Krum would leave him a little star-struck if he wasn’t staring at him like he’s some sort of trash. And Draco’s right, the man is attractive, but Harry can’t really focus on that when he’s trying to figure out what the hell is happening.

Fleur Delacour is equally as pretty and scary as Draco, only Harry feels like she might actually hurt him. Draco’s all bark, no bite, but she looks like she’s one spell away from adding to his lightning scar.

And Cedric Diggory….fuck he’s even hotter up close than he was the World Cup, but he’s also the first one to make a move.

A warm hand slaps him on the shoulder and he’s completely convinced that this is how he dies. In a room full of pretty people, without getting to even hold hands with his crush, or tell his friends that he loves them, and fuck Sirius is going to be pissed-

“You alright, Harry? You look like you’re going to fall over.”

Harry nearly collapses on the spot, he would if that wouldn’t give his acquaintances a chance to end him for good. Instead he looks up at Cedric and tries to smile.

“Probably just surprised that his plot actually worked.”

They both turn to Krum, who’s also moving towards them. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Your name, child.” Fleur snaps, “You put your name in the fire and-”

“I did not! I never wanted any part in this! At best I was worried about who to ask to the Yule Ball, but my friends would kill me if I tried something like that!”

All three of them look at him like he’s grown a pair of horns, which really wouldn’t surprise him at this point.

“You didn’t put your name in?”

“Of course not! I’ve had more than enough excitement in my life, thanks. Plus I was trying to get Quidditch back up and my OWLs are this year and oh fuck Hermione is going to kill me if I don’t have time to study and I didn’t even do anything this time-”

Godric, he doesn’t even want to think about what Draco and Pansy are going to do to him. Ron’s definitely going to be pissed, Blaise will probably slap him which he can deal with, and Hermione is going to lecture him until his ears fall off but there’s no telling what the other two will do.

“Harry! Calm down, mate. It’s okay...Dumbledore will fix this! You’re too young to participate, anyways.”

That gets his attention. He turns to look at Cedric again, “You...you’re right. I’m only fourteen, they can’t make me do this.”

“Actually.” Krum frowns, “The Goblet is binding….if your name was called you might not be able to get out of this.”

“He’s a child! Surely the Goblet will recognize this!”

“I’m not sure...Fleur, was it?”

The blonde nods, “Fleur Delacour. And you are?”

“Cedric Diggory. We all know Krum and Harry, and I highly doubt that Harry understands the whole binding thing.”

“Muggle-born?” Krum asks, surprisingly not disgusted. 

Harry shakes his head, “Muggle-raised. And Cedric’s right. I have no idea what the Goblet even is, much less what it does.”

Fleur has the same look that McGonagall wears around him sometimes. Oh fuck, McGonagall...she’s gonna be so angry…

As if somehow summoning teachers by just thinking about them, the door slams open. To his surprise, Snape is the first one in, followed by McGonagall, the other two headmasters, that pretty person with the long blonde hair, and Dumbledore, who closes the door behind him. 

Snape strides up to him, looking murderous and slightly concerned which Harry doesn’t know how to handle. Thankfully McGonagall beats him to Harry and cups his face rather harshly.

“What were you thinking, Potter?! Have you any idea what you’ve done?!”

“That’s Harry Potter?!” He hears Krum ask right before Dumbledore’s face comes into view.

“Now, now, Minerva. We have yet to figure out what truly happened.”

“What’s happened,” The pretty person starts with a thick Russian accent, “is a child being forced to compete by his own foolishness!”

“Ellios, please.” Dumbledore sighs, he then turns very calmly to Harry and clasps his hand in front of his blue robes. “Harry, my boy. Did you put your name in the Goblet?”

What? “No! Of course not! You know me, Headmaster! I never go looking for trouble!”

Snape badly hides a snort, and then all hell breaks loose.

“He’s lying!”

“He’ll be killed, Albus!”

“This goes against everything the Tournament has ever stood for!”

“It’s ridiculous!” 

“We can’t allow this to happen!”

“Pull yourselves together.” Dumbledore responds. His voice stays calm, but not quite. It’s loud enough for the entire room to stop moving, though the other teenagers have surprisingly moved closer to Harry. “The fact of the matter is that Mister Potter’s name has been called. You all know the rules of Goblet. If we pull him out now, he will die. If we allow him to participate, we have a better chance of saving him. We can aid him in his tasks and-”

“No!” Harry shouts before he can think better of himself. “If I have to compete I want to do it like the others! It’s not fair to them if I’m getting help.”

“Potter, this is not the time for your morals!” Snape seethes, the pretty blonde, Ellios, puts a hand on his back. 

“Severus, the boy has a point. I am unsure if he speaks from dignity or foolishness, but we must honor his wishes.”

“If we refuse he’ll just try harder to get himself killed.” McGonagall sighs. “Isn’t that right, Potter?”

Harry nods. “Yep. If someone tries to help me I’ll just make the whole thing worse.”

McGonagall fails to hide her smile, Snape’s looking at him like he might die on the spot. The other headmasters lean together in a hushed discussion, and the teens suddenly have respect in their eyes. Fleur steps closer to him.

“You are the same age of my cousin Draco. A year older than Luna....I do not wish to see you hurt in this competition, Mister Potter. Not when you remind me so much of them.”

Harry smiles at her. “I’ll be careful! Besides, I’ve dealt with worse than a competition.”

Cedric snorts beside him, even Krum cracks a smile.

“Perhaps, in the midst of our battles, we can learn about your adventures?”

“Sure! But I’ve got to warn you, it’s a bit of a long story.”

They all seem very invested but unfortunately, Dumbledore picks that exact moment to interrupt. 

“Then we’ve come to an agreement! Harry will compete. Splendid, now let’s all return to our beds, I rather think we deserve an early night in.”

One by one people are collected. The giant lady hugs Fleur, who bids Harry goodnight and leaves. That Igor guy that Draco doesn’t like grasps Krum’s shoulder. Krum looks a little apologetic before they’re gone too. Cedric pats him twice, and then leaves the room before the pretty person pulls Snape out the door. McGonagall tells him to go to bed and then follows Dumbledore to his study.

Naturally, Harry goes after Snape. Not because he’s weirded out by his concern, or anything, but because he’s really curious about the Ellios person.

He finds them in a nearby hallway, nearly exposes himself, and then manages to hide in a nearby classroom with the door cracked just enough to hear. 

“You need to hide your concern for the boy, you’re just being obvious now.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ellios.”

“No idea- Severus! You nearly tackled Igor when he brought up Potter’s death.”

“Someone had to shut him up. I have no idea how you’ve managed all these years.”

“Well, someone did not give me much of a choice. It was easier when I had a friend writing to me, but that was four years ago, was it not?”

A silence hangs heavy between the two. Harry hears a bit of shuffling and then something that leaves him even more confused than before.

“Ellie….” He never knew Snape could sound like a human. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can apologize...it was one disaster after another, and it still is. In the midst of things I just..”

“Forgot? Because I am so very forgettable.”

The silence is back and Harry wonders for a second if he should leave. This doesn’t really seem like an appropriate conversation to eavesdrop on. 

“You know I didn’t-”

“It does not matter.”

There’s a familiar sigh and then Snape says, “Personal matters aside, then. Igor has no right to treat my students like pigs. I won’t stand for it.”

“So you are no longer a Potions Master, just a prick who defends people’s honor?”

“If it’s my students that need defending then I will gladly leave my mastery behind. Especially now.”

A sharp intake of air. “It is true then?” Ellios whispers, “Willie was right? He is back?”

Harry leans a little closer to the door so he can see them. Ellios has his-her?- hand on Snape’s arm, gripping it tightly. Her-his?- face is scrunched with worry and horror. Snape pats their arm twice.

“We shouldn’t talk about that here.”

Ellios’s face clears before he-she-they smile. “Are you inviting me back for a nightcap?”

“Please, if I did that you’d just slap me.”

“I am coming now, am I not?”

Harry never, like never ever expected the sight. Flying cars would be more likely than Snape smiling. Like he’s some gentle fucker instead of an asshole that bullies people, but there he is. Smiling gently at Ellios like he’s smiled more than twice in his entire life.

“All I have is mint tea at the moment.”

“Your godson’s favorite.” Ellios seems amused, but Harry is still confused. “It is acceptable...lead the way?”

They start down the hallway, and since Harry is now confused and tired and he hasn’t even faced his friends yet, he steps out and starts making his way to the Gryffindor common room. He makes it ten steps before remembering that it’s Friday, which means he has to go see Geia. 

How the fuck did his life always manage to get so messy so quickly?

Technically, it’s not passed curfew yet, so he really shouldn’t be surprised when hands grab him and force him inside what he quickly recognizes as the Gang’s outer rooms.

Someone slams him against the wall, which is fair, and then Ron’s face comes into view.

“Did you do it?” Ron whispers. He’s not angry, more worried and scared, and Harry really can’t deal with any of those emotions coming from his best friend.

So he deflects. “What are you talking about?”

“The Goblet, Harry. You promised me and ‘Mione that you wouldn’t do anything stupid this year! You promised. So why the hell did you put your name in the murder Goblet?”

“I didn’t.” Harry says. “You know I don’t go back on promises. Besides, if it didn’t work for the twins, why would it work for me? I’m honestly just as surprised as you are!”

Ron considers this for a moment before he releases Harry with a sigh. “You swear you didn’t?”

“On Sirius’s freedom.”

That seems to be good enough for his best friend, who gives him a hard look and a side hug. When he steps back Harry sees four other people and then Hermione is hugging him.

“This is not good, Harry.” She says when she pulls away.

Draco steps up, reaching out to squeeze his arm. “That’s an understatement….”

“You’ve managed to survive a lot of shit, Harry.” Blaise mummers, moving to stand by Ron and pat his free shoulder. “But this is different.”

“What do you mean?”

Pansy looks like she’s on the verge of tears again. “It means I’m five seconds away from making you sign a blood contract too. The whole group of you. If I get grey hair before I turn eighteen I’ll murder you myself.”

Harry snorts, patting her arm and moving them all into the inner room. Ron and Hermione sit on the love seat by the fire, Pansy and Blaise curl up in the armchairs and Draco sits so close to Harry on the other couch he’s almost glued to his side.

“Alright. What gives? I know this is dangerous and all, Fleur was very clear about that, but I don’t understand? It’s just a competition, right? And someone said something about the Goblet not letting me stay out, which I also don’t get, so if any of you know…”

Hermione sighs. “It’s so much more than that.”

“Explain? Please?”

“The Goblet is made of ancient magic.” Pansy begins. “In the past, there were battles full of great wizards. Hundreds of thousands were throwing their lives away for a chance to be called great.”

Hermione reaches out to pat her leg. “Eventually, Godric Gryffindor joined the fight. He murdered three hundred wizards and witches before he saw through his craze for power and created The Goblet, and in turn, the Triwizard Tournament.” She says quietly.

“His thought process was that if there was a competition, a real one, it would help eradicate useless deaths of our race.” Pansy continues. “And because of the dire circumstances, he employed his friends to help. Together, with the other founders of this school, they put in rules and regulations to ensure the Goblet would work.”

“Godric Gryffindor thought up the games, keeping them violent so it would catch the attention of those who yearned to die.” Hermione picks up, “Rowena Ravenclaw constructed the magic and the contract part. Anyone who was called upon to compete had to have strong magic, afterall, their goal was to stop the death, and once they were called they could not escape their duties. If they did Salazar Slytherin said the punishment should be death. A life to save another life….and the others agreed. Helga Hufflepuff demanded an age limit so children wouldn’t die and after they worked out the kinks the Goblet and the Tournament was born.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Blaise adds, “It was the first time they came together, and after they saw how much it helped, they decided to make the school...and when they noticed that other countries were having the same issues, they branched out and invited other schools to join their competition.”

“How do you all know that? Hermione bullied me into reading Hogwarts A History last year and I don’t remember any of that!” Ron whines.

Draco shifts, hand still digging into Harry’s arm. “Father taught me about it when I was a kid. I asked why the founders were important and got an earful.”

“Same. Mum told me and Pans the year before we left. Said we should be prepared for everything.”

Hermione shrugs. “I got curious when I didn’t know what it was. Took a while to find the right book, but Madam Pince lets me in the restricted section all the time.”

“It’s okay Ron, I didn’t know either. On the plus side, now I know why Dumbledore is making me compete.”

“He’ll help you, won’t he?” Draco asks.

Harry swallows, “About that…”

“He’s not!”

“But you’re-”

“I kinda told him not to?”

Pansy is surprisingly the first one to react. “You what?! Have you lost your fucking mind?! You’re going into a death competition! And you turned down help?!”

He’s vaguely aware of Draco’s rising hair beside him, but he’s sure it’s just a trick on his mind. There’s no way anger could cause hair to go flying.

“It wouldn’t be fair to the others! Cedric is a friend! I shouldn’t be competing anyways, it’s probably just another fucked up plot from Riddle McTiddle to kill me! He shouldn’t be pulling others into this shit! And forcing them to compete while I’m getting help is just a guarantee that someone will die!”

“Not everything is about you and Moldy Voldy!” Blaise snarls.

Ron, surprisingly, is very deep in thought as the others yell at Harry. He waits until Hermione is breathing heavily to speak up.

“It actually makes sense…”

Hermione whirls on him, “Excuse me?! Don’t you dare feed into Harry’s idiotic-”

“Hear me out!” Ron snaps back. “Every fucking year this happens, doesn’t it? In first year we didn’t believe him, and then McTiddle was hiding behind Quirrell and nearly killed us all! And in second year, we didn’t believe him either, but guess who was behind the whole Children Nearly Dying Thing, that’s right. Thomas fucking Riddle. Even last year, Sirius and our pest problem was what? Another issue caused by our Grindelwald Wannabe. All I’m saying is that when Harry thinks Riddle is behind something, he has a record of being right.”

Their group seems to consider this but Ron isn’t done yet.

“We know from the twins that the Goblet won’t accept underage people putting their own names in, but what…” He looks around, brows slightly furrowed. “What if someone, someone like Pettigrew, put his name in? What if this really is another death plot?”

“You think someone in the castle is helping him?”

“Isn’t there? There’s been a ‘helper’ in the castle every year so far, it wouldn’t be insane for another one to be here. Especially with the other schools present.”

Harry groans, “Couldn’t he just do this the normal way? Does he really have to endanger students every year? Why can’t he just confront me and get it over with?”

Draco slaps his arm with his freehand and then glares. “Ron is right. We need to be on the lookout for suspicious people. Among other things, we have a few letters to write.”

“What are you talking about?” Hermione asks.

“Well. For starters, Harry you need to write Sirius and Remus. They need to know about this from you before the papers come out. I need to write my mother and inform her, and Ron you should probably write to your parents too. I’ve seen how they treat Harry, they won’t take kindly to finding out via Rita Seeker anymore than Sirius will.”

Blaise groans, Hermione doesn’t get it.

“Who’s Rita Seeker?”

“The worst woman to exist.” Pansy says darkly. “You remember how you described Pettigrew to me? Imagine that but with a backbone and the drive to be actively annoying.”

Blaise chuckles, “You’ll meet her soon enough and you’ll hate her more than my mother does.”

“Speaking of Miss Belle,” Draco says, “Would you mind writing her? Mum has locked off the libraries to keep Father out, but I need as many books on the Tournament as possible.”

“Why? We have Hermione and Pansy and they know everything.”

“Because not only Harry is involved, but Fleur is too! This is my family we’re talking about.”

“And we all know how protective Draco is of his family.” Ron quips a little dryly.

Draco throws a pillow at him and ignores his friend’s laughter.

“Until we find out what the first task is, Harry, you should probably start training. You’re gonna need muscle and magic to survive this.”

“I think you just like your men muscly.”

Draco throws a pillow at Blaise too, but thankfully, Harry didn’t hear anything but the boy snickering. 

“I’ve actually been working on Angelina.” 

“Please!” Ron snorts, “You’ve all but bullied her into starting Quidditch up again!”

“I did not! I asked her once and she’s fully on board!”

“Is that why Flint wants to see me and Blaise on Monday?”

“Probably.”

Hermione rolls her eyes, “Merlin...you’re definitely going to die this year. Can I get some sleep before that happens or are we trying to get caught out after curfew?”

“About that…” Harry rubs the back of his head. “Draco and I still have to visit Geia.”

Draco sighs. “Hopefully she won’t smell like Riddle’s dirty underwear this time…”

“We’ll wait for you to get back.”

“Your boyfriend seems upset, what did you do?”

He knows Geia is speaking to him, but he’s a little busy being breathless.

Apparently, Draco had talked Dobby and Winky into cleaning the chamber.

Like, all of it.

Surprisingly, the floors aren’t grey but a dusty marble that reaches to the ceiling. A mural of what looks like Greek gods was hidden under layers of dirt and grime. Now the figures fly around, winking and playing some sort of game that he can just barely make out when he stares up. The water is clear now, a beautiful blue tinted liquid that Harry knows is deep, but that’s hard to remember when he can see intricate patterns at the bottom of the marble pools. The statue of Salazar has also been cleaned and looks a whole lot less threatening that it did in second year. Now it reminds him of something from one of the Weasley’s vacation photos. 

In the center of the room is a soft looking jewel toned rug and a giant pillow that Geia is curled on and Geia…

Someone has obviously cleaned her. Instead of being dust and grime covered, she’s gleaming. Her black scales seem iridescent in the lights, like a rainbow on black paper. She’s beautiful, honestly. Only, Harry sees a few things that are worrying.

The scars on her eyes and head seem a little better, but there are two long white lines on her sides that look like old healed scars.

Draco notices them too.

“I see you got a bath, you look stunning, but what the hell is this? Did you hurt yourself while we were away?”

“They are from long ago, tell him Speaker. If you refuse to give me your information, you can at least relay mine.”

“They’re old.” Harry breaths to Draco and then to Geia, “Sorry, I was a bit distracted. What was the question?”

Geia makes a noise similar to a tsk, “I asked what you did to upset your lover.”

“He’s not my lover!” Harry groans, “And I didn’t do anything, it’s more like something’s been done to me.”

“Is someone hurting you?” Geia sounds a little protective, but he’s sure his ears are hearing wrong.

“Not yet. It’s too early in the year for that, it’s more….do you know about the Triwizard Tournament?”

“Of course. I was there when it was made.”

Holy fuck this is one old snake. “Right...well it was banned for a few years, and now it’s back and I shouldn’t be able to participate because I’m too young and I don’t want to, but someone put my name in and now my friends think that One Asshole is trying to kill me again.”

“You shouldn’t take this threat lightly, young Potter. Riddle is a fool, yes, but a dangerous and powerful one. If he is truly after you, he will not stop until he has you.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” Harry grumbles.

“Hey! Are you listening to me? Ask her where these wounds came from if they’re not recent!” 

Harry waits for Geia to respond, and when she does she sounds a little confused.

“Do you not know of Basilisks?”

Um… “No? We didn’t know they existed until you saw you.”

If she still had eyes she would probably roll them. “I suggest you do your research. We’ve been around for a very long time, I was once called the Serpent King, and with your family’s history it shouldn’t be too hard for you to figure out.”

“You know about my family?”

“Do you not?”

Harry rubs his forehead. “Is it a requirement for old things to speak in riddles?”

Geia hisses at him, Draco just shrugs. “Her wounds are looking better, other than the sword one. I have an idea for that, but it will take some time.” He turns to Geia. “Would you mind if I brewed something down here? It’s for your own good.”

Harry turns to Geia, noting that her breath smells better too.

“He was right about the bath, I will do what he thinks is good.”

“Yeah, she’s okay with it.”

Draco pats her twice on the head and when she doesn’t comment Harry guesses it’s okay. And the, his asshole says, “Did you tell her about the latest murder plot against you?”

 “Alright!” He doesn’t bother speaking in Parseltongue, “We’ll see you next week, Geia! Have a good one!”

“I didn’t take you for a coward.”

“She said she’ll miss us! Let’s go, Draco!”

“Take care of your love, and don’t forget to do your research.”

Harry doesn’t bother responding, he grabs Draco’s hand and marches out of the room, prompting ignoring the blush on his cheeks. Once they’re outside Draco looks at him. 

“What did she say to you? Were you being rude? She’s our friend, you can’t be rude to her!”

“She was being rude to me!” 

“She’s an ancient being. She has that right.” 

Harry resists the urge to sigh, instead he rubs his head again. “I just have a lot to do, right? The whole house is probably waiting up to yell at me, McGonagall is going to pull me aside and yell at me too, I have to write to Sirius and Remus, figure out what the hell is going to be first, Hermione is probably making a new study plan right this second and-”

Draco squeezes his hand. Harry didn’t realize they were still connected, but at the moment he has no intention of letting go.

“Do you want to go dancing?”

Wait.

“What?”

“Well, Blaise and Pans are probably still waiting for me, and everyone is stressed, and since none of you know how to dance….what better time to learn?”

“But…but I have to-”

“You need to get your mind right before you do anything else. If you write to Sirius now you’ll just freak him out, and I’m sure seeing Pansy teach Ron how to dance will make everyone feel better.”

Harry just stares at him. “You’re not telling me something. Actually, you’ve been surprisingly quiet about this whole thing. How are you feeling?”

Draco doesn’t respond. He leads them through the tunnels and thirty feet from the entrance he stops.

“I’m scared. But, you always make me scared. You’ve been giving me headaches and heart attacks since I was eleven, you know. You just...if you die we all have nothing. Do you get that?” Draco looks at him before looking away, staring at the wall. “You’re the hope of the wizarding world, Harry. Even if you don’t want to be. People don’t see you as a kid, they see you as some perfect hero. If you die now, they lose what hope they have left. And if Riddle does return with your death….if it doesn’t destroy them it would destroy us.” 

Draco’s voice goes so quiet Harry strains his ears to listen. “Hermione and Ron would go mental...Blaise might act a little distant but he and Pans care for their friends more than anyone I’ve ever met. And you’re their friend now, do you understand?” Draco looks back at him. “They would be devastated and I...I don’t know what I’d do. You think, with how many close calls you’ve had, that I would be used to it, but I’m not. I will never not be afraid when your life is in danger. If you die, we’re not just losing a hero, we’re losing someone important to our lives. Do you get that?”

Harry knows he shouldn’t, but they’re in the cover of darkness, in a tunnel where no one can see them or know what happens between them, so he pulls Draco in close and hugs him.

“I get it. I promise I won’t die, though. Not yet. Hermione would murder me if I died before I take my NEWTs.”

Draco chuckles against his chest, but when they pull away they both feel a little better. “Let’s go dance before someone figures out what huge saps we are.”

He still looks too sad for Harry’s comfort so the boy tries to think of something and comes up with pure stupidity. 

“ME? Harry Potter? A sap?! That’s more Draco Malfoy style, I’ll have you know.”

Draco gives him a weird look. But after a moment he says, “Please, Malfoys don’t have hearts, remember? They call you The Boy Who Lived but you’re really just The Giant Baby, huh?”

“I’ve never been a baby. I was actually born as a twenty-year-old war veteran.” Harry grins. 

Draco‘s smirk starts to return. “Well I was born a thirty year old spy.”

“That explains why your hair is near grey, you old man.”

“My hair is a fair blonde, your eye-sight must be worse than you think.”

“I’ll have you know I lost both my eyes in a vicious fight with a Phoenix.”

“Was that before or after you got that weird tattoo on your forehead?” Draco deadpans. 

“It’s symbolic of my lightning quick Seeker skills.” 

“Planning on being a professional Quidditch player after the war?”

“I’d be a sap not to.”

They bicker the whole way up to the Gang’s Room, where everyone is sitting around the fire watching Ron destroy Blaise in Wizard’s Chess. Harry doesn’t bother with a greeting. 

“Move the game board, saps! We’re dancing.”

“Dancing is a sap’s pastime,” Draco comments, barely holding back a laugh at Ron’s face.

Harry snorts, “Funny that you suggested it. Come one, Ron! We can’t let them beat us at dancing!”

“They haven’t even beaten us at Quidditch!” Ron counters, clearly confused and completely missing Blaise moving around pieces on the board.

“And that won’t start now!”

“Are the Snakes giving us dancing lessons?” Hermione asks.

Pansy’s the only one actually moving. “Apparently. Come on, Blaise-Bear. The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can go to bed.”

Getting Ron to give up his game is the hardest part, really. Hermione and Draco use their wands to clear the area and then Draco grabs her and spins her. “On the plus side dancing is a lot easier than Potions.”

“That’s easy for you to say!”

Hermione really isn’t all that bad. Across from them Pansy is leading Ron.

“You can take the lead when I’m positive you won’t squish my toes!”

“I’m not gonna step on your toes!” Ron protests, letting himself get spun and dipped. “You just like being in control!”

“I’m fixing your horrid robes! This is the least you can do for me!”

Harry snickers as he follows Blaise’s pace. He’s also keeping up fairly well, but Blaise is an excellent dancer, so it’s hard to look bad with him. Though Draco isn’t fond of how closely his friend is holding Harry.

They call it quits when Ron almost trips Pansy into the fire, since they’re all falling over laughing Draco feels like it’s safe enough to let everyone go for the night. At least now they’ll probably fall straight into bed without worrying themselves sick. 

Hopefully. 

Though the tight look on Harry’s face isn’t too reassuring….which gives him an idea…

It’s only a bit past midnight. If Winky is still up, he’s sure he can do something about the tight smiles his friends all have. If he can’t get it done tonight he can sure as hell figure it out over the weekend.

A few Slytherins trickle into the common room around seven Monday morning, but no one gives him a second glance until Millie comes in and sits herself down right beside Winky.

“What the hell are you doing? Have you been here all night?”

Yes, yes he has. Draco was planning on getting the buttons done on Saturday, but then he had to write his mother and tea with Severus went a little long because he was complaining about the Tournament and Draco had made the dumb decision to comment on the hair tie that was very obviously not his godfather’s. Watching Snape flustered and alarmed was funny as hell and almost made up for the homework Draco nearly fell behind. Spending the rest of Saturday’s evening and most of Sunday’s morning in the library with Fleur and Luna had been nice, but then lunch rolled around and Draco had just barely begun planning out his little side project. 

Panicking never helped anyone, so he returned to his room with Winky and LuLu in tow and worked until Blaise kicked him out because “If I’m not allowed to know what you’re doing then don’t do it in front of me.”

So, at roughly one in the morning, Draco and Winky set up shop in the common room with their basket and got to work.

On the plus side, if Draco’s calculations are right, he only has ten more buttons to go.

“What even are these?” Millie asks, seeming to realize Draco would not be answering any questions pertaining to his health at the moment. 

“Buttons.” Draco replies, adding the finishing touch to the one in his hand and tossing it in the basket.

They’re actually quite simple to make once he’s worked everything out. Winky melts the metal in a cauldron, transfigures the shape, and then cools it halfway so Draco can cast a few charms, transfigure the transformation, and then finish cooling it right as Winky hands him a new button. She’s also somehow found the time to bring him five cups of coffee throughout the night and he’s so, so, thankful his mother let him keep her.

“We is making them to support Hogwarts, Misses Bulstrode.” Winky comments as she hands him a new button. 

Millie laughs, Draco fights a smile. He still has nine buttons to make.

“He’s going to hate them.”

“Nonsense. You wanna cast cooling charms or go take a shower before the stalls fill up?”

Millie shoves him lightly, before reminding him to take one too and leaving. 

Draco’s just gotten down to two buttons when he’s interrupted again.

“You have an hour left before breakfast.” Pansy says. She kisses the top of his head, and then plops down beside him and burst into giggles.

The buttons, apparently, are a fucking hit. At first they seem innocent, just little circles they give a little Cedric propaganda, but then the image twists into an unflattering picture of Harry with the caption ‘Potter Stinks!’

“He’s going to love this.” Pans whispers.

“I know, right? I only have one left, and honestly this would have taken so much longer if Winky hadn’t helped up. She came up with the design, ya know.”

Winky beams at the praise, Pansy just smirks. “Well, you did a wonderful job, Winky. Did you make enough for the entire house?”

“Yep. Would you mind passing them out?”

Pansy’s smirk turns dark. “I’d fucking love to, but I was told by Millie to make sure you shower and eat. Have you even slept?”

Draco doesn’t say anything. Winky, the traitor, shakes her head. “I shall bring another coffee?”

“You’re my hero Winky.”

Thirty minutes later Draco exits his room freshly clean and proudly wearing his own Potter Stinks button and accepts a cup from his elf. He takes one sip and then smiles at her. She’s put not only caramel to lessen the bitterness of espresso, but a little Pepper Up too. Definitely his best investment ever. 

He’s tired, slightly cranky, and a little quiet through breakfast but the look on his Gryffindor’s faces in Care of Magical Creatures is fucking worth it. Harry has to literally bite his tongue to keep from laughing and when they meet in the Gang’s Room later that night, Hermione flicks his button.

“How did you make these? They’re brilliant!”

“You can say that all you want, Susan Bones has already asked me to make some for her house. I’ll be making them for the whole school at this point.”

“You should.” Fred chimes in. Draco’s gotten the twins differences down at this point. “I want one.”

“Me too!” Harry laughs. “Imagine the look on Dumbledore’s face when I wear this to the first task.”

“You’ll all have to help me and Winky make them.”

Hermione glares at him, “You made Winky help?!”

“She didn’t seem to mind-”

“That’s because you forced her! I’ve read up on house elves! They’re basically slave laborers! Have you any idea what-”

Ron pats her shoulder. “Maybe Draco and the others can explain since you won’t listen to me?”

Even Ginny is giving her a weird look. “I thought we went over this already, Hermione? Elves aren’t forced into work, they just-”

“If they’re not forced into work then why can’t they touch wands?!”

Draco shares a look with his fellow purebloods before sitting down. “Come on, then. Let me explain. If you want I can even call Winky here to talk to you.”

Hermione licks her lips, and then sits in the chair opposite to him. “You have three seconds before I rant at you.”

“Okay. Since you pointed out the wand issue, let me tell you why. When a house elf is bound to their master, they take a part of their master’s magic. It’s kinda like food to them. Before, in the olden days, they fed off of magic rivers and forests, but given human expansion, there aren’t many of those left. I took on Winky because I knew I could hold the bond until we made it back to the Manor. My home is surrounded by magic, as is Hogwarts, so it’s not actually dangerous for me. It was, however, dangerous for Winky to be dismissed by Crouch like he did. He was being a right bastard…”

Blaise steps up to help explain. “When a house elf is dismissed, especially one that’s been in the family for ages, it rips them of their, um, ‘food source’. Basically, with no magic, elves will die within a week. And since Crouch was accusing her of breaking the wand rule, no one else would take her.”

“Which brings us to the wand rule.” Pansy adds. “Back in the 1500s, when house elves had just become a thing, a wizard by the name of Bartholomew was abusing his elf and one day, when he wasn’t looking, the elf took his wand and stripped Bartholomew of all his magic.”

“Meaning the elf quite literally took everything from him, not that he didn't deserve it. No sane person likes to give our punishments, especially when there's blood involved...Anyways, elves don’t need wands to use magic. They can do more advanced things without a wand that having one more or less just gets in their way. Which is why the Wizard Court at the time put the wand rule into place, and it’s supposed to be followed even now. Granted, most elves would never imagine taking their master’s magic because it would leave them without food, but it’s still law.”

Hermione considers this, and then; “I still want to talk to her, Winky, I mean. But I’ll leave it for now. We have something a little more pressing to worry about.”

“What’s more important than your crusade against house elves?” Ron asks.

“Well, for starters. We still don’t know what the first task is, and I’d like to have Harry prepared for Friday.” 

Harry frowns. “And what does that mean?”

Hermione grins, his stomach sinks, and ten minutes later he finds himself in the library thinking about how much he hates death plots.