Nearly

As the party rages on in the Slytherin Common Room, Harry seats himself on one of the sofas in front of the fire and tries to focus on the people around him instead of the one person missing from the celebrations. But even with a rather tipsy Blaise lounging on the floor in front of him and leaning back against his leg, and a horklump drunk Seamus draped heavily over his side, Harry finds his mind wandering to Draco alone in the dorm… Even when Seamus gives him a blow-by-blow account of the other champions’ dealings with their dragons, in a steadily slurring voice, Harry keeps glancing over to the passageway leading to the boys’ dorms, until his attention is snatched once more by a reeking, hot breath tickling his ear…

Seamus has just finished telling Harry about Diggory’s head catching fire, when Blaise picks up the golden egg and weighs it idly in one hand and mumbling about it being heavy. Seamus blinks slowly, losing his train of thought… 

”Hey, you should open it, Harry…” Blaise says, twisting around to face him. 

”Now?” Harry says uncertainly. 

He won’t tell his friends, but he feels reluctant to open the egg without Draco being there to see it. It shouldn’t matter, he tells himself. Because it’s not a big deal, it’s just a clue for the next Task and I’m not even supposed to care about the Tournament… But no matter many times he reminds himself of that, it still feels like a big deal — and he wants Draco to share it with him. 

”Go on, open it —!” someone says, and a chorus of voices erupts adding their agreement. 

”All right”, Harry mutters and takes the egg from Blaise. 

Pushing his fingertips under the latch on top of the egg, Harry snaps it open. The egg immediately opens into two hollow halves, revealing nothing but empty space inside and despite this a deafening wailing noise rings out in the expectant silence, startling Harry so much that he nearly drops the egg on Blaise’s head. 

”SHUT IT—!” someone shrieks. 

Harry quickly smashes the two halves together again and fumbles with the latch. The Common Room falls silent once more, everyone exchanging looks of bafflement and intrigue. 

”What was that?” Blaise says, removing his hands from his ears.

”A banshee!” Seamus exclaims, his half-lidded eyes popping dramatically. ”Harry, maybe tha’ss wha’ yeh’ve gotta face next—?”

”It wasn’t a banshee”, Blaise says, haughtily.

”How do you know?” Seamus demands, trying to focus on the other boy. 

”Did it kill us all?” Blaise counters sharply. 

Seamus frowns, clearly struggling to wrap his mind around the question. After a moment, he gives up and reaches for the half-empty firewhiskey bottle on the floor at his feet instead. Harry grabs it from him however, thinking the boy has had enough to drink for one night… He agrees with Blaise. Not that he would put it past the organisers of the Triwizard Tournament to make them face a banshee, but he doesn’t think that’s what a banshee sounds like… 

The wail definitely had a screechy quality to it, but there was something about it that sounded distorted as well, like the noise had been filtered through water somehow… and whenever his daddy told him stories about banshees, he always got the feeling theirs was more of a tinny shriek, and more high-pitched… of course, no-one can no for sure what a banshee sounds like and live to tell the tale, so for all Harry knows that’s exactly what a banshee does sound like… 

The next morning, he wakes up in a cold sweat, sure he’d dreamed the whole thing and that the First Task is still ahead of him. But then he puts his glasses on and spots the tiny model of the Hungarian Horntail curled up asleep on his nightstand… Heaving a great sigh of relief, Harry chuckles to himself. He really did get past the dragon and snatch the golden egg! And not only that, he tied with Viktor Krum for first place and the next Task is three whole months away!

Feeling particularly pleased with life, Harry jumps out of bed and starts changing out of his pyjamas, eager to get to the Great Hall now that he knows he won’t be assaulted on the way there or have to endure glares and taunts by the other Hogwarts students while he eats his breakfast.

Draco’s bed is empty and made up, so he figures the other boy is either having a bath or a shower… He hears a low groan coming inside the hangings on Seamus’ bed and smiles wryly as he pictures the boy clutching his head, remembering the amount of firewhiskey he had to drink the night before. 

Glancing over at the other beds in the dorm, he can see that the rest of the boys are still asleep as well… Draco is the only one not in his bed, even though it’s already late judging by the torches (that are magicked to burn a bright limegreen in daytime and a dark emerald at night, since the dungeons are below ground and they don’t get any natural light in the dorms, except for the dim underwater light from the lake in the middle of the day.) But then he was the only one of them who went to bed early the night before as well. 

Although, even if he’d stayed up and celebrated with them and was nursing a hangover because of it, Harry knows the other boy would still be up by now. Draco is always an early riser and never late for anything… 

So where is he? Could he have goneupstairs without waiting for me, Harry wonders with a frown. 

Then he remembers Rita Skeeter and her photographer catching him and Draco kissing… His stomach flips as her sugary voices echoes in his head:

The Boy Hero comes out of battle and is greeted by his lover… Any comments to go with the pretty picture?

No matter, we got the most important part… Now, we have a DEADLINE —

And he remembers Draco’s shuttered eyes, staring coldly back at him…

It’s okay, I can fix it, Harry thinks numbly and steps into his boots before hurrying out of the dorm. 

He meets a couple of girls in the Common Room who both grin at him and tell him again what an amazing job he did the day before. He thanks them automatically, but doesn’t stop or slow down. As soon as he reaches the end of the dungeon corridor, he takes the stairs up to the ground floor two at a time, desperate to get to the Great Hall. 

It would appear at least half the students of Slytherin house has decided to sleep in like the boys in Harry’s dorm, the Slytherin table dented with empty seats and Draco, sitting on his own at the end of the long table, one of few students above Third Year to have made it to breakfast. Harry immediately makes a beeline for him and takes the seat next to him. 

The blonde gives him a sidelong look, but doesn’t say anything. Harry swallows a sigh and reaches for the toast, wondering tiredly how long it will take the blonde to get over this…

A hundred owls swoop down from the ceiling suddenly, signalling the delivery of the mail and one of the Daily Prophet’s official delivery owls lands on top of the toast rack, the rolled up copy of the Prophet tumbling out of its beak and knocking over the salt shaker before rolling towards Draco’s hand. 

The blonde quickly stuffs a Knut into the bird’s money bag and then grabs the paper. Harry can tell his hands are trembling slightly, the only evidence of his emotions since his face is still as shuttered as the night before, and it’s with a sinking sense of foreboding that Harry watches him pick at the knot tying the paper together. 

Finally the string comes loose and Draco shakes the paper out and lies it flat on the table between Harry and himself. Neither of them speak, just stare in mute horror at the front page. 

Harry feels the familiar prickle of being watched long before the whispers start, so he knows the paper has made its rounds around the Great Hall, the few students who, like Draco, actually prescribe to the Daily Prophet having passed it on to those who don’t, until everyone in the Hall has seen the photograph and it’s accompanying headline, PUPPY LOVE?

He peers up into Draco’s face, trying to determine the damage but the other boy’s face is still unreadable. 

Suddenly Bertram, Draco’s owl, swoops down and lands deftly on top of the Prophet, its talons digging tiny holes in the faces of Harry and Draco in the photograph before they spring apart, scowling furiously and rubbing at their faces. 

”Oh no…” Draco says faintly, staring at the small roll of parchment with the Malfoy seal, attached to the owl’s outstretched leg. 

”At least it’s not a Howler…” Harry murmurs. 

”Don’t be stupid”, Draco says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

With trembling fingers, he unties the roll of parchment from Bertram’s leg and the owl immediately takes flight again. Draco breaks the seal carefully and unrolls the parchment. Craning his neck, Harry peeks down at the short message: 

”Draco, 

I am disgusted with you! The front page of THE DAILY PROPHET — What were you THINKING?

If you are incapable of even the most basic discretion, then your father will undoubtedly rethink his position on your association with Harry. And if that happens, rest assured that I shan’t be able to sway him again.”

It’s not signed. But it really doesn’t need to be. 

Although, Harry can’t help but to feel the lack of a signature just makes the letter colder, knowing neither of his dads would ever write to him without adding a loving sentiment at the end or signing with a ”Yours always” or ”With love”, even if they were writing to tell him off. He wonders if Narcissa signs the letters to her only son with a similar sentiment normally, or if all her correspondence is this cold… and what’s worse… 

Looking into Draco’s face thoughtfully, Harry tries to read the boy’s mood, but just like the day before Draco’s face is shuttered. He gently rolls the parchment up again and sticks it into his pocket, before standing up slowly. 

”Draco —” Harry says, but the blonde holds up his hand to silence him. 

”I… I need to be alone…” he says quietly. 

Then without having even looked at Harry once, he makes his way out of the Great Hall swiftly. 

Harry is aware of all the students and teachers watching him in varying degrees of interest, but he ignores them all and pulls the Prophet towards him. The affronted looks on his and Draco’s faces in the photograph, as the magicked subjects keep scrubbing at their punctured faces surlishly, would have made him smile at any other time. 

As it is, he merely glances at them briefly before turning to page two and starts skimming the article. 

It’s even worse than he’d feared. 

Not only does Ms Skeeter go into great detail when describing Harry’s and Draco’s intimate embrace, she also takes a lot of liberties in speculating about their feelings for each other and then goes on to weave in the werewolf angle, making a pun out of puppy love or cub lust, hinting that the relationship between Harry and his daddy is perversely codependent and Harry’s decision to seduce another boy is just another subconscious tactic in affirming his bond with his adoptive parent; by stepping in his paw prints… 

She’s even got a medi-witch to go on record, speculating about the emotional and psychological impact being raised by a werewolf might have… 

Harry folds the paper together roughly and is just climbing to his feet when Hedwig comes sailing down from the ceiling. She lands gracefully on top of his shoulder and he pets her head, before plucking the small roll of parchment from her beak. 

It’s not sealed together or even tied up with a string, so he knows whoever sent it must have been in a hurry… Unrolling the parchment, he immediately recognises his daddy’s handwriting and understands why. 

”Harry, 

Your dad and I are here for you, if you need to talk. 

And we love you more than anything. Never forget that. 

Yours always,

Your daddy”

Just as soon as the anger flared up inside Harry, it simmers down again. Taking a deep breath, he reads the short message from his daddy once more, before rolling it up gently and putting it in his pocket. 

He gives Draco space for the rest of the day, concentrating on his school work and talking to his friends. The other boys, especially Blaise, keep throwing worried looks in Draco’s direction whenever the boy brushes past them to select a seat some way away from them. 

Harry knows what they’re thinking — it’s Third Year all over again — but he tells himself it’s nothing like that, because this is only temporary; Draco just needs to cool down and then things will be back to normal. 

Narcissa didn’t say he couldn’t be with Harry anymore. She just warned him that they need to be more discrete — so that’s what we’ll have to do, Harry thinks brazingly. As long as that awful Skeeter woman stays away, we won’t have any problem; everything will be fine!

It’s this thought (or rather mantra) that keeps Harry going throughout the day. 

Later that evening he is playing Exploding Snap with Seamus in the Common Room and keeping a discrete eye on Draco through the corner of his eye; the blonde is curled up on one end of the loveseat in front of the fire, sketching in a new drawing book and sharing a companionable silence with Blaise, who is idly flicking through a tome, sprawled out in the other end of the small sofa. 

Finally, Draco snaps his drawing book shut and unfolds his limbs. Harry swallows discretely and quickly tears his gaze away as the boy stands up and stretches his arms above his head, revealing a strip of pale skin as his jumper rides up. 

Seamus gives Harry a knowing leer, but it is soon blasted off his face, quite literally, as the two Giant Squid cards on top of the pile suddenly explode in his face. Harry smirks at him, about to make a quip about just desserts but is instantly distracted as Draco brushes past him, heading towards the dorm. 

”I win?” Seamus says knowingly.

”Yeah, you win”, Harry mumbles, throwing his remaining cards on the table and getting to his feet.

”You have half an hour”, Blaise calls after him. ”Then I’m going to bed. I’m knackered.”

”Fine”, Harry says and gives him a dismissive wave. 

Draco is already in his pyjamas when Harry enters the dorm. He looks up and meets Harry’s eyes as if he’d been expecting him and Harry thinks he probably was… He climbs onto the boy’s four-poster bed and sits cross-legged at the foot of it, leaning back against one of the posts as he waits for the other boy to speak. 

Draco slouches down on the bed as well, curling up against the headboard and picking at the slightly frayed cuff of his pyjama top. After a moment’s tense silence, he peers up at Harry through the thin curtain of his bangs, looking small and lost… and unsure of what to say, Harry thinks and sighs. 

”How do you feel?” he asks him softly. 

”Not great…” Draco says immediately. ”What about you?”

”Yeah, not great… That article was…” Harry just shakes his head. ”She’s absolutely evil.”

”Was it that bad?” Draco asks with a grimace. 

”Yeah, it was… I mean, she didn’t say much about you, so don’t worry about that… but the stuff she wrote about me and… and… it’s just vile.”

”She wrote about Remus again?” Draco asks, with a hint of surprise and Harry nods. ”Do you still have the paper? Can I read it?”

”No, I left it in the Great Hall… sorry—”

”Doesn’t matter”, Draco says and shakes his head dismissively, then shudders and hugs himself. ”Fuck, it’s cold… I hate winter!”

The blonde looks like he wants to say something else, but then decides not to. Instead he crawls under the covers and curls up on his side. 

Taking the hint, Harry climbs off the bed and walks around it to his own. He grabs his bunched up pyjama bottoms from the floor and fingers them nervously, glancing over at the tuft of blonde hair sticking up from under the covers on the other bed. 

”Draco…” Harry says carefully. ”Sorry, I’ll let you sleep, but… are we okay?”

For a couple of seconds, the room remains silent. But then the covers peel back enough to reveal a couple of grey eyes peeking up at him and Harry releases his breath around a hesitant smile. 

”Yeah…” a muffled voice says slowly, sounding every bit as unsure as the eyes look. 

”Yeah?” Harry says. ”I mean, I know I’m not okay what with that article and everything and you’re probably not either, but if things are at least okay between us, then I’d feel a lot better about everything else… and I know we’ll have to be more careful from now on — though I’m sure Rita Skeeter won’t be able to come inside the Hogwarts grounds again — still — I know — we’ll be really really… really… careful, okay?” 

The grey eyes twinkle with amusement, and Harry relaxes a little and smiles ruefully.

”Yeah, okay”, the muffled voice says and this time it sounds like Draco means it. 

*

Bundled up in their green and silver scarves, Harry and the rest of the Slytherin Fourth Years make their way down to Hagrid’s hut for Care of Magical Creatures. As they pass the lake, Harry glances over at the Durmstrang ship, slung from side to side by the force of the December wind, its black sails billowing against the dark grey sky, and feels grateful for the thick stone walls of Hogwarts and the many fires inside… 

As always, the Gryffindors are already assembled in front of Hagrid when the Slytherins arrive, almost as if they were genuinely looking forward to the lesson, which Harry knows can’t be true — because no-one who’s spent any amount of time with a Blast-Ended Skrewt could possibly want to repeat the experience — with the rare exception of Hagrid himself, unfortunately for students… 

There are only ten Blast-Ended Skrewts left, since their eagerness to kill each other hasn’t been squashed out of them, but ten is still plenty now that they’re almost six foot long and more temperamental than ever… Harry throws a dejected glance at the large wooden boxes that Hagrid has brought out, all lined with pillows and blankets, dreading the coming lesson…

”I’m not sure whether they hibernate or not”, Hagrid explains to them, his excited smile clearly visible in his bushy beard. ”So I thought we’d try an’ settle ’em down in these boxes ter see if they fancy a kip!”

The class divides into ten small groups, each grabbing a Skrewt and dumping it inside one of the boxes before nailing the lid on. But the Skrewts, as it turns out, do not fancy a kip… nor do they fancy getting nailed inside pillow-lined caskets, because as soon as the lids have come on, all ten of the Skrewts blast the boxes apart and charge the students furiously. 

Draco lets out a high-pitched scream as one particularly enraged Skrewt runs at him with its trembling stinger raised and throws a smouldering plank at it before legging it out of the pumpkin patch and diving into Hagrid’s hut through the back door. Harry and the other Slytherins, as well as a couple of Gryffindor girls, hurry after him and together they barricade the door. 

”Bloody Hell”, Blaise gasps. 

”How is this a lesson?” Draco demands in a shrill voice, his eyes wild with alarm as he cautiously approaches the window to check if the coast is clear. ”I mean how? Can someone please explain it to me? What are we learning?” 

Harry just shakes his head, gazing out the window to see a panicked Hagrid hurry back and forth inside the pumpkin patch, waving his massive arms to get the stung and burned students to calm down, even as the rampaging Skrewts are attacking them.

”It’s a joke!”, Draco continues vehemently. ”EXCEPT IT’S NOT EVEN FUNNY!”

When Hagrid and the remaining Gryffindors have managed to tie up nine of the ten Skrewts, the last one advances on Ron as the boy keeps shooting sparks at it. Finally it’s got the redhead cornered against the wall of Hagrid’s hut, just under the window where Harry and Draco are standing. Looking at the clasp in the middle of the window, Harry considers opening it so that the boy can climb through, but before he’s had a chance to Hagrid has thrown himself on top of the Skrewt… It shoots a blast of fire out of its end, which narrowly misses Lavender Brown and disintegrates a few pumpkin plants behind her. 

Hagrid manages to tie a rope around the Skrewts stinger, but nearly gets stung as something just outside the garden catches his attention and distracts him. 

Edging along the window, Harry manages to get a glimpse of a familiar mop of golden blonde hair and a pair of grinning blood red lips.

”What is she doing here?” Harry hisses furiously. 

Rita Skeeter is leaning casually against the fence, watching the chaos inside the enclosure with rapt eyes and a never-wavering smile. For once, she isn’t decked out in acid green, but wearing a magenta cloak trimmed with purple fur but her crocodile-skin handbag is dangling from one of her arms and her long, sharp nails are painted purple.

Hagrid clambers off the slightly flattened Skrewt and starts tugging it towards the others, throwing Ms Skeeter a suspiscious look over his shoulder as he speaks. Whatever he said, it doesn’t faze the reporter one bit — but then again, Harry is starting to wonder if anything ever could — her keen eyes flit over the burns and cuts on the Gryffindor students still standing outside, and Harry imagines he can see the article writing itself in the intense glint of the woman’s pale blue eyes, as clearly as if her Quick-Quote Quill was in perched on a piece of parchment next to her. 

With feign interest written all over her immaculately made up face, Ms Skeeter nods eagerly as Hagrid continues to talk, his enthusiasm from earlier returning full force, and Harry just knows Ms Skeeter has charmed him by asking about the Skrewts. 

”Evil cow…” he mutters. 

”Better Hagrid than us”, Draco says quietly, gazing coldly at the gamekeeper. ”If we’re lucky, he’ll even have to get rid of the blasted Skrewts. Win-win.”

”I suppose…” 

With the last of the Skrewts secured, Harry and the others walk out of the hut again. He feels Rita Skeeter’s eyes zoom in on him immediately, but pretends not to have noticed. 

”Oh, you’re here as well, Harry!” she exclaims, looking positively delighted. 

”Yes”, Harry says stonily.

”And do you like Care Of Magical Creatures? Well, how could you not, with such — er — fascinating creatures as these Bang-Ended Scoots”, she says tittering. 

”Blast-Ended Skrewts!” Hagrid quickly corrects, but the reporter doesn’t seem to have heard him. 

She keeps gazing at Harry appraisingly, waiting for him to speak. But Harry says nothing. 

”You’re not allowed to talk to him”, Blaise says suddenly. 

Harry turns to see him gaze coolly at Ms Skeeter, his eyebrow raised in an unimpressed arch. He’s also angled his body discretely to shield Draco from her view, Harry notices and feels a surge of affection for his friend — but he schools his face into a neutral mask, not wanting to give Ms Skeeter any more fodder. 

”And you are?” Ms Skeeter asks pleasantly and although her smile is frozen in place, it feels less and less like a smile and more like a predatory snarl. 

”Never you mind…” Blaise retorts. 

The bell signalling the end of the lesson rings up at the castle and they all trudge out of the pumpkin patch, eager to get away. 

”Well, goodbye, Harry!” Ms Skeeter calls after him, and just before they get out of earshot, Harry hears her tell Hagrid she’ll see him in Friday night. 

”He’s giving her an interview”, he mutters. ”How thick can you get!”

”Better him than us”, Draco says again. 

With twenty minutes left of the Potions lesson, Professor Snape intructs them all to leave their anti-dotes to simmer while they clear away everything else and then to sit down quietly. Exchanging curious looks, the students hurry to comply and then swiftly take their seats, waiting for their Head of House to speak. 

”The Yule Ball is approaching”, he informs them, his lip curling in disgust. ”It’s a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and it is obligatory for fourth-years and above to attend—”

A hushed but distinct buzz of excited whispers erupts amongst the students, but Professor Snape quells them all with a stony look. Pansy and Daphne immediately muffle their giggles behind their hands.

”The Yule Ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day and finish sharply at midnight. It will take place inside the Great Hall and dress robes. must. be. worn… Now… as students of Slytherin House, I expect each and every one of you to conduct yourself with poise… and adhere to the decorum expected of you as representatives of Hogwarts and the noble house of Salazar Slytherin… is that understood?”

Every nods eagerly. 

”Furthermore, if any beverage stronger than butterbeer should find its way to the Great Hall during the festivities…” Snape adds and lets his dark eyes linger on Seamus, who gulps. ”I shall be most displeased.”

They all nod again, Seamus more violently than any of them and Snape finally lets his gaze flicker away from him again, finding Harry instead just as the bell rings.

”Harry, a word…”

”I’ll see you in the Common Room”, Harry tells the others, then walks up to the front of the class. 

Professor Snape’s glare ushers the rest of the class out of the classroom at record speed and as soon as they’re alone, he turns to face Harry with a dour frown that is somewhat mitigated when he shakes his hair out of his face. Harry quickly presses his lips together to hide his ausement. 

”I need to tell you that you and your partner —”

”Partner—?”

”Yes”, Snape hisses, his eyes narrowing in irritation. 

”Sorry, Sir…” Harry mumbles.

”As I was saying… You and your partner, along with the other champions and their partners, will need to open the Ball by performing the first dance of the evening—”

”Dance?” Harry repeats in dismay. ”But I don’t dance… Sir!”

”It is tradition”, Snape says in a clipped tone. 

”But I don’t even know how to dance!”

”Figure it out”, Snape more or less snarls, looking extremely uncomfortable with the whole subject. ”It’s only one dance, then you may retire for the evening for all I care! For goodness’ sake, it’s not the end of the world… Besides, I’m sure Draco can teach you and you have plenty of time to practise.”

”Yes, Sir…” Harry mumbles sullenly. 

”Good… I’ll see you at dinner. Dismissed.”

Sitting slumped over his star chart in Divination, Harry lets his mind wander, picturing himself and Draco in the middle of a dance floor with the entire school standing in a wide circle around them… laughing and pointing at him as he tries to move to the music and ends up stepping on Draco’s toes… 

Sighing, Harry rubs his fingers over the scar on his forehead. As always the heavy aroma in the Divination classroom is getting to his head and besides the dull throbbing behind his eyes, a stinging sensation is shooting through his forehead, right where his scar is. 

Draco’s knee knocks against his suddenly and Harry sits up instantly. Squinting at Professor Trelawny who is now towering over him and Draco, Harry attempts to look intrigued by whatever prediction must have just made, but as his headache is getting worse he only ends up wincing up at her. 

Apparently, the reaction is appropriate enough because Professor Trelawny nods importantly at the rest of the class, pointing a trembling finger at Harry. 

”Yes…” she whispers in her mistiest voice. ”Mr Potter knows…”

Harry shoots Draco a look, silently asking him for help but the blonde just covers his smile with a hand and looks away. 

”He understands the burden of interpreting the signs… of Seeing the Truth, however ugly…” 

Harry discretely turns his face and makes eyes at Seamus and Blaise instead, but they’re just as unhelpful as Draco and equally amused it would seem. 

”DEATH”, Professor Trelawny exclaims dramatically. 

Oh, that, Harry thinks and relaxes back in his armchair. 

”It comes ever closer”, Trelawny continues in a hoarse whisper. ”It circles overhead like a vulture, ever lower… ever lower over the castle…”

She places one of her spindly hands on top of Harry’s shoulder, her many bracelets jingling as she gives it a small shake. He schools his face into his most serious mask and looks up at her. She clutches her chest with her free hand and scrunches up her face as though in deep pain. 

”It is unfortunate”, she says thickly. ”So young… whole life ahead of him…”

”Ah well…” Harry mumbles awkwardly. 

”So brave”, Trelawny gasps. 

As soon as they’ve all climbed down the step ladder at the end of class, Harry’s friends burst out laughing hysterically. He gives them a half-hearted glare, but now that he’s finally out of that horrible classroom and can breathe fresh air again, he can’t really bring himself to stay annoyed. 

*

Not surprisingly, every student in Fourth Year and above put their names down to stay at Hogwarts during Christmas so that they can go to the Yule Ball. Harry signs up as well, having already made plans with his dads to come home and celebrate a late Christmas with them on Boxing Day instead. 

However, as excited as he is for the upcoming Ball, the prospect of making a fool of himself in front of the entire school — or in fact, three schools — puts quite the damper on the whole thing and he’d really like to go just one day where he didn’t have to worry about it. 

Unfortunately, he is constently reminded of the ball because wherever he goes he seems to be surrounded by people obsessed with it. Girls in particular are giggling and laughing hysterically left right and centre while blushing and making eyes at boys they (presumably) find cute, or they’re whispering furiously with each other or discussing in great detail and with excessive enthusiasm what they plan on wearing. Harry hadn’t realised just how many girls go to Hogwarts before now. It suddenly seems to be a disproportionate amount…

Draco, much to Harry’s disbelief, seems more than happy to delve into discussions about dress robes and colour schemes with Pansy and Daphne. Harry just stares at the three of them as they sit huddled together in the Common Room, heads close and eyes bright with excitement. After a while, Harry just shakes his head and leaves them to it. Walking across the room he challenges Seamus to a game of Exploding Snap instead.

They’re halfway through the game when Blaise saunters into the Common Room, looking particularly smug as he sprawls out on the rug in front of their table.

”What dirt have you got and on whom?” Seamus demands.

”Oh, no dirt…” Blaise says, studying his immaculate nails idly. ”Just the latest gossip about the Gryffindorks…”

”Yeah, who?” Harry asks curiously. 

”One of your ones, actually”, Blaise says with a smirk. ”Weasley…”

”Ron?” Harry says. ”What about him?”

”Well…” Blaise says drily, his smirk turning into a proper smile. ”I just saw him ask Fleur Delacour to the Ball—”

”What?” Seamus gasps and lets out a guffaw. ”He never did!”

”I swear… It was one of those surreal moments when time seems to just freeze…” Blaise snickers. ”She just stared at him like he was a house-elf who’d just shat in her tea, she didn’t even say anything. I almost felt for the bloke…”

”What did Ron do?” Harry says in amazement. 

”He turned into a tomato, as usual, and then he just legged it out of there!”

Blaise and Seamus burst into a peel of laughter, and Harry hesitantly joins in. He feels bad for Ron, but what was he thinking asking Fleur to the ball? Also, as awful as the Gryffindor must have felt, to just run away, that’s just too funny…

”What’s so funny?” Pansy calls from the other side of the Common Room. 

”Ron Weasley!” Blaise calls back. 

”Hardly”, the girl scoffs and Harry can tell Draco and Daphne mutter their agreement. 

”No?” Blaise says, smiling. ”What if I told you he just went up to Fleur Delacour in the Entrance Hall and asked her to the Yule Ball?”

”He didn’t—!” Daphne squeals. 

”And when she just stared at him, he ran away!” Blaise adds. 

Several people in the Common Room laugh, including Draco — now that it’s clear everyone’s laughing at Ron and not with him, Harry thinks wryly. But seeing such an open and carefree expression on the blonde’s face for once, Harry can’t help but to smile fondly. Also, those grey eyes really are beautiful when they’re shining like that —

Suddenly said eyes flicker over to lock with Harry’s and for a moment he experiences the oddest sensation; it’s like someone has put both of their hands against his mid-section and forcefully pressed all the air out of his body. 

Draco’s grin softens, but his eyes continue to shine. Harry swallows and gives him a twitchy smile back, still getting his breathing back under control and not really getting the hang of it again until Draco tears his eyes away and turns back to Pansy and Daphne. 

”You. are. such. a. sap…” Blaise mutters. 

”What?” Harry says distractedly, because Draco has just stood up and is now making his way over. 

”Nothing”, the other boy mutters. 

But Harry isn’t even listening anymore, because Draco has stopped in front of the sofa where he and Seamus are sitting and is smirking down at him like they share a secret that no-one else can know — and maybe they do, but whatever it is, Harry can’t possibly think of it now because his brain has gone all funny…

”So do you want to see that book I told you about?” Draco says. 

Harry blinks stupidly, shaking his head slightly to get his brain to work but all it does is make Draco’s smirk widen. 

”Book?” he says dumbly. 

”Yeah, we talked about it the other day”, Draco says, tilting his head slightly. ”It’s in the dorm, if you want to have a look…”

”Okay”, Harry says. 

He’s trying to remember a conversation about a book but drawing a complete blank. Seamus is sniggering next to him and Blaise is muttering again, but Harry can’t let himself get distracted. Draco has forgone the girly discussions about dress robes to come and talk to him about some book, and if Harry doesn’t figure out what book he’s talking about, Draco will most likely get annoyed with him and go back to the girls… and he’ll stop smiling… and he’ll stop looking at me like that…

”Yeah, I remember”, he says quickly and hopes it sounds convincing.

”For Merlin’s sake”, Blaise says. ”He wants you to go to the dorm with him!”

”What?” Harry turns to the other boy with a frown. 

Seamus is now laughing so hard he’s lying sideways on the sofa, clutching his belly. 

”Come on…” Draco chuckles and inclines his head towards the passage leading to the boys’ dormitories. 

Harry scrambles to his feet quickly, nearly tripping over Blaise’s foot in his hurry to follow Draco to the dorm. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Draco is smirking at him again.

”What’s… going on?” Harry asks as carelessly as his voice will allow. 

Draco shrugs slowly, tilting his head as he studies him silently for a moment before he murmurs, ”There’s just so many people everywhere…”

”Er, yeah… I guess…”

”Harry…” Draco smiles in amusement. ”There’s no book — relax!”

”Oh… Right…” Harry mumbles, feeling his cheeks flush. 

Draco just shakes his head at him and still chuckling fondly, he steps right into his space. Harry holds his breath as their bodies gently press together, sure the other boy must feel the pounding of his heart through his chest… then spindly fingers nestle into his hair and soft lips brush against his own… and as if he’s suddenly been released from a Body-Binding Spell, Harry springs to life; exhaling sharply through his nose, he grabs Draco’s head and kisses him deeply. 

He feels the other boy’s body tremble against his as he trails his hands down his sides and locks his arms around his waist. Draco clutches his shoulders and moans into his mouth. 

Then without breaking the kiss, he starts walking Harry backwards towards his bed. As soon as Harry feels the back of his thighs bump against the mattrass, he sits down and begins to scramble up towards the headboard, pulling Draco with him. 

Desperate to touch, Harry drags his hands over the other boy’s body but he can barely make out his shape through all the layers he’s wearing — and speaking of which, his own clothes are stifling hot all of a sudden… He wants nothing more than to just tear them off — Well, he might possibly want to tear Draco’s off more — 

Wrenching out of their lip-lock and gasping for air, the blonde pins Harry with his eyes. They’re shining again, Harry notices. But the pupils are blown so wide there’s barely any silver visible anyway.

”Are we… doing this?” he says breathlessly.

Doing what, Harry doesn’t say — because it really doesn’t matter what the answer is; whatever Draco wants to do, Harry’s answer is still YES! — so he just nods eagerly.

Scrambling up to sitting they push each other’s robes off, hands trembling with excitement and nervousness. Grabbing the hem of Draco’s jumper, Harry wrenches it up his body and pulls it over his head, chuckling as he gets to witness his blonde hair stand on end for the first time ever… As if reading his mind, Draco quickly reaches up with both hands and begins to flatten it again, but Harry grabs his hands and gently guides them down again. 

”Don’t”, he croaks. ”It’s sexy…”

Draco sniffs, but there’s a glint of uncertainty in his eyes when he peers over at Harry and his fingers twitch against his palms. 

”Really…” Harry murmurs, leaning in to press their lips together once more. 

He pushes Draco gently down to lie underneath him and starts to fumble with the buttons on his shirt. As he finally gets the last one to cooperate and can fling the fabric aside, Harry breaks the kiss and leans back slightly to stare at the impossibly pale skin, almost white as porcelain — and maybe just as frail, because nothing can be this perfect… He reaches out, but hardly dares to touch… 

He can tell when tension slams into the muscles on display before him and quickly glances up to give the other boy a reassuring smile. Draco swallows thickly, not even bothering to try and smile back and for some reason, seeing the normally composed boy this nervous, makes Harry relax. 

”You’re beautiful”, he mumbles.

He catches the flicker of doubt in the blonde’s face, but pretends not to have seen. If he says it enough times, he thinks Draco will start to believe him. But if he keeps saying it now, he’ll only overwhelm him and drive him away from this moment. Instead, he focuses on the naked chest underneath him. 

The taut skin quivers under the pads of his fingertips as his brushes them lightly down the expanse of all that pale skin, marvelling at its smoothness… he could stare at it for hours, but he knows he only has seconds; Draco is already squirming under his attention and is just about to prop himself up on his elbows, when Harry lurches forward and captures his lips in another desperate, messy kiss… 

He lowers himself down to bring their bodies together again cautiously, vaguely aware of his own weight and trying to angle his body slightly to the side and leaning most of it on his own arm propped up next to the blonde’s head, but just as he’s managed to find his balance, a pair of delicate (and surprisingly strong) hands slither down his back and pushes his hips down. He feels an unmistakable hardness press against his own and gasps at the sensation. 

The other boy’s lithe body moves in waves under him, undulating eagerly against his own and every time their erections grind together currents of pleasure shoot through Harry — and yet, what really sends him over the edge, is the thought of his jumper rubbing against Draco’s naked torso; the rough texture scratching that pale, smooth skin and leaving it blotchy and pink, ruining that perfection, marking it as his… 

Feeling reckless, Harry drags his fingers down the other boy’s chest and when Draco throws his head back, a half-strangled gasp tearing out of his throat as a blunt fingernail catches on his nipple, Harry watches in awe as the full expanse of a no-longer-perfect neck — flushed and shiny with sweat — is exposed to him.

Draco clutches his hips hard enough to bruise and snaps his head back to pin him with a stare so deep and wanton it takes Harry’s breath away. His blonde fringe is sticking to his damp forehead no matter how hard he tosses his head and it makes Harry’s chest tight with emotion to see it. 

He moves his hand down to rub the hard length of the blonde’s cock through his trousers, watching breathlessly as his teeth sink into his lower lip… 

”Don’t”, Harry gasps. ”Please — I want to hear you—”

A strangled moan pushes through Draco’s teeth before he opens his mouth wide, his laboured breathing building shamelessly and his hips snapping up to meet Harry’s hand, harder and harder, faster and faster… 

”Harry”, he whispers in a broken voice. ”I’m going to — ruin these — trousers soon—”

”Y-Yeah…” Harry croaks. 

He fumbles one-handedly with the fly, huffing in frustration at the ridiculous amount of buttons to get through — fucking Madam Malkin, haven’t you ever heard of a zip — feeling the other boy’s erection strain against the back of his fingers the whole time, which doesn’t exactly help his focus… Finally he gets the fly undone and Draco eagerly lifts his hips so that he can pull his trousers and pants down. 

Curling shaky fingers around the other boy’s erection, familiar and yet completely different to touching his own, Harry marvels at the feeling of the smooth skin pulsing against his palm and starts moving his hand carefully, experimenting with pressure and speed, and soaking up all wretched sounds escaping from the other boy’s throat. 

Smearing a pearl of pre-cum with his thumb, Harry is struck by an irresistible impulse to taste — but before he can work up the courage to bend down, Draco’s body is already arching underneath him and with a keening whimper pearly white spurts of semen is splattering in streaks over his flushed skin and the back of Harry’s fingers. 

Swallowing thickly, Harry gingerly releases Draco again and rests his hand on top of his jutting hipbone while he waits for him to catch his breath, hyper-aware of the droplets cooling on his fingers and wondering if it would be weird if he licked them off… 

”Circe…” Draco pants. ”That was… Way more intense than I thought it would be…”

”Yeah…” Harry agrees. 

Getting his breathing back under control, Draco gives Harry a curious look. 

”What?” Harry says, shifting his body awkwardly to lie on his side next to Draco. 

”Nothing…” Draco says, rolling over to face him. ”Your turn.”

”Oh…” Harry mumbles. 

His straining cock twitches excitedly at the idea of Draco touching him. But at the same time he feels rather shy suddenly. Draco’s fingers curl under the hem of his jumper and pulls it up. It bunches under Harry’s arms and he twists his body awkwardly to pull it off. Draco leans in to capture his lips in a searing kiss and he returns it messily, but jerks back when he feels the other boy’s hands sneak under his shirt to touch his bare skin.

”Relax…” Draco murmurs softly. 

”Yeah, I know”, Harry mutters, his face flushing in embarrassment. 

”I’ll make you feel good…”

”Ye-eah — I-I know”, Harry says again. 

Ignoring his shirt, Draco grabs his belt and unbuckles it swiftly. Then in no time at all, his deft fingers have unpopped every button of his fly and before Harry even knows how it’s happened, his trousers and pants are pulled down his hips, cool dungeon air is slapping his bare buttocks and his impossibly hard cock is flopping desperately against his belly, before Draco has it in a confident grip. 

A choked groan is ripped from his throat as the hand tightens around him almost painfully, almost… Draco’s eyes are boring into him, impossibly bright and dark and it’s too much, too intense — Harry screws his eyes shut, panting desperately as hot, stinging pleasure builds in his sternum… He feels Draco shove his face into the crook of his neck, the tip of a tongue sneaking out to lap at his pulse point… teeth grazing his skin teasingly… then sinking down in a bruising kiss —

Harry gasps as pleasure shoots through his nervous system like sparks out of a wand, bright and fiery —

Draco continues to pump him gently as he rides the final waves of his orgasm and doesn’t release him until his taut muscles relax and he goes limp against the other boy’s body. He’s vaguely aware of Draco’s semen smearing against his shirt front and even though this is his last clean shirt, he’s simply too spent, too relaxed and insanely happy to care at all…

”You’ve got a… love bite…” Draco mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper and Harry feels his fingertips brush his neck where he’d bitten down. ”Sorry…”

”No, you’re not”, Harry mumbles, smiling lazily and blinking his eyes open again. 

Draco smirks down at him, but says nothing. Harry wriggles a little, pulling his pants and trousers up again. Then flops down on his back with a content sigh and notices for the first time the handful of luminous balloons stuck to the ceiling panel of the four-poster bed, giving the shadows inside the bed hangings a warm glow. 

”It was Mother’s idea, back in First Year…” Draco says quietly and Harry turns his head to see the blonde also staring up at the balloons. ”She knew I’d be… not scared exactly but… you know, being away from home for the first time and everything… and I’ve always had this thing with darkness.”

He gives Harry a sheepish look, but Harry simply smiles. 

”At home, I sleep with a night light, plus the moon usually shines in through my windows, you know how large they are… Mother knew how dark the dorms get here, so before I left she gave me a packet of non-explodable luminous balloons and taught me the Sticking Charm.”

”And they’ve held out this long?” Harry says in surprise. 

”Oh, no, they usually last about a term… I keep changing them, but now it’s more habit than anything… I’m not scared of the dark, or anything—”

”No?” Harry says with a wry smile. ”I am… This is brilliant, I’m going to have to get some for my bed…”

Smiling brightly, Draco leans in to give him a peck on the cheek.

”Will you help me stick them to my bed?”

”Sure…” Draco murmurs, snuggling a little closer. ”I can’t believe Weasley asked Fleur to the Ball…” 

Harry hums noncommittally, then stretches out languidly. Catching Draco’s appreciative glance down his body, he grins and leans in to nuzzle his neck. 

”What a dunce…” Draco mumbles, clearly distracted by the feathery kisses Harry trails down his neck.

”Don’t call him that”, Harry mumbles, his voice muffled against the other boy’s neck. ”I think that girl has got some Veela in her, he probably didn’t know what he was doing…”

”Of course you were going to come to his defence…” Draco mutters, but there isn’t much heat behind the words.

”I’m not”, Harry protests and leans back slightly. ”I just feel bad for him… Haven’t you seen what it’s like out there lately? The girls in this place have gone crazy in the last few weeks, I’m telling you… Also, they all travel in packs! Imagine having to walk up to a group of them and ask one out only to have all the others laugh in your face when she says ’no’… I’m so glad I don’t have to worry about that!”

”About what?” Draco smirks. 

”You know… Finding a date…”

The smirk on Draco’s face falls away again and he gives Harry a confused look, ”But Professor Snape said you have to, because you’re opening the dance —?”

”Yeah…” Harry says, blinking. ”But I mean, I’ve already got a date…”

Draco continues to stare at him in confusion, and Harry shifts awkwardly. 

”You do?”

”Well… I mean… We’re going together, aren’t we?”

Draco’s eyes widen in understanding and… regret, Harry realises with a pang. 

”Oh Harry…”

”What?” Harry says suspisciously. 

”Harry… You can’t possibly expect me to go to the Ball with you… not after Mother sent me that letter…?” Harry just stares at him. ”Harry, come on… I mean…”

Sitting up slowly, Harry twists around to face the other boy. Draco sighs heavily and props himself up on his elbows. 

”You know what my parents are like”, he says quietly. ”We can be together, but we have to be discrete…” 

”Yeah…” Harry says numbly. ”But…”

”Don’t worry, I’ve explained everything to Pansy and she understands—” 

”Wait, what — what are you saying —?” 

”I’m saying I’ve talked to Pansy, like you asked me t—”

”Pansy?” Harry repeats incredulously. ”What’s she got to do with this—?”

”Well, I have to go to the Ball with her, won’t I?” Draco says and sits up properly. ”Don’t look at me like that! You told me to tell you what I need, and I am telling you! I have to take Pansy to the Yule Ball, or my parents will flip out—!” 

”But why do you have to take Pansy? Why do you have to take anyone? We can go as friends—!” 

”Oh please!” Draco snaps, pulling his pants and trousers up with jerky movements. ”Be realistic! Like anyone’s going to buy that after seeing that picture in the Prophet—!” 

”Fine!” Harry snaps. ”But why does it have to be Pansy — you know how I feel about her—!”

”She’s been making a real effort to get on with you this year, but you won’t even give her a chance!” Draco says and points an accusatory finger at his chest.

A small voice in the back of Harry’s mind, that he’s too angry to pay attention to right now, pipes up saying he has actually noticed the change in the girl’s attitude towards him. 

”I just don’t. get. your. problem with Pansy”, Draco continues, all but tearing his hair in frustration. ”You know we’re just friends. You know I’m not attracted to her. So you have nothing — nothing — to worry about, and yet she’s the one you’re jealous of! Where is the logic in that! Please tell me, because I’m dying to know! I mean, who would you rather I take to the Ball then—?” 

”You know who—” Harry grinds out. 

”Well, I can’t take you!” Draco hollers. ”And I’m sorry! Okay? So who would you rather I take then? Hm? Strapping Seamus—?”

”Strapping!” Harry splutters incredulously. 

”—Beautiful Blaise? Dreamy Diggory?”

Harry stares. At no point has it ever really occurred to him that Draco might find other boys attractive. Until now… Something like regret flickers in the blonde’s eyes, as he finally stops to breathe. 

”So that’s it then”, Harry says bitterly. ”You’re going to take Pansy to the Ball?”

”You said you understood—” 

”Well, I guess I was wrong!” Harry yells, his own anger getting the best of him for a moment, before he takes a deep breath and forces it to simmer down again. ”I need to get out of here, I need to think…”

Scrambling out of bed and rearranging his clothes angrily and pulling his robes on with shaky hands, before Summoning his Nimbus from its place on top of his trunk and stomping out of the dorm. He doesn’t feel the stinging of tears until he’s halfway out of the dungeons.