Nearly

For the first time ever, the swooping sensation in his stomach and the wind rushing past his ears, isn’t enough to ease the tension in Harry’s body or calm the frantic whirr of thoughts in his head… He tries to focus on the conversation he just had with Draco, but his mind keeps flashing back to another conversation… Sitting with Sirius in the kitchen, listening but not hearing, not wanting to hear… 

The Malfoys are one of the oldest Pureblood families in Britain, they’re traditionalists… and you know these traditionalists, they like to arrange things… 

I’m sure they’re more flexible about it nowadays, but I’m almost certain their views on same sex relationships haven’t changed — it all boils down to lineage, furthering the family bloodline… 

It’s a very pureblood-typical, outdated double standard; they don’t care who you keep company with, as long as you marry an appropriate candidate of the opposite gender and produce an heir…

So what, you think Draco’s engaged to Pansy? he’s asked incredulously, but as soon as he’d said it, even then the thought touched on something inside him, something he’d buried as deep as it would go, and still it was there waiting for him when he started digging… waiting to tell him, you knew this all along…

Blinking hot tears from his eyes, Harry flattens himself along his Nimbus and speeds up, plummeting towards the ground and pulling up at the last minute, his heart pounding… swerving faster and faster; flying in tighter and tighter loops to mirror the progress of his thoughts, until he’s too dizzy to think at all, and then he simply cruises in lazy figure eights over the tree tops and lets his pulse settle down again…

That boy is so in love with you, anyone can see it from a mile away, his daddy had told him later that eveing. It had reassured him then, but now… What does that matter, if he’s too much of a coward to do anything about it?

Harry is aware that he’s not being quite fair. He’d told Draco that he understood if they would have to keep their relationship a secret, that he could live with that, as long as he knew for sure that there was nothing really going on between Draco and Pansy… if Draco promised to tell her the truth — which he did, Harry thinks. He’s done everything I’ve asked him to… and still —

Still… What about the future? Fine if they can’t go to the Yule Ball together. Although it stings a little, Harry can live with that. It’s just a stupid dance, it doesn’t mean anything. But what about after the dance? What about after graduation? How long does Draco expect them to keep their relationship a secret?

And what about his parents’ expectations of him marrying a Pureblood witch? If he’s prepared to take Pansy to the Yule Ball to appease them now, will he then be prepared to marry her in the future as well?

Where does that leave me? Harry thinks in dismay, even as that nasty voice in the back of his head whispers, hidden in the shadows as the bridegroom’s secret lover…

Well fuck that, he thinks furiously. 

At some point, he’ll want a family of his own. He’s always dreamed of being a dad to at least two children. Will Draco be able to father those children with him, if he can’t even publicly be his boyfriend? 

If not… 

If not, then what’s the point? If their relationship is already doomed, then why even bother?

As his thoughts whirl faster and faster in his head, the tighter his frustration coils in his belly. Finally he touches down on the ground again with sigh and decides he’ll only drive himself crazy trying to wrap his mind around all these questions. He needs a sounding board; he needs to talk to his daddy. 

Storming back into the dorm, Harry walks right past an anxious-looking Draco and throws the Nimbus on top of his bed. 

”Still need time”, he grunts, cutting the other boy off even before he’s uttered a sound. 

Wrenching his trunk open, he digs out some parchment and a rather rumpled quill. But he can’t find an ink well anywhere. Cursing under his breath, Harry kicks the trunk angrily. 

”I-I have some ink…” Draco says in a small voice. 

Taking a deep breath and then releasing it again in a rush, Harry turns around. Draco is fidgeting nervously, an ink well clutched in front of him. As Harry looks up and meets his eyes finally, he hurriedly holds it out like some kind of peace offering. 

”Thanks”, Harry mutters and snatches it from him. 

Then without another word, he hurries past the other boy and out of the dorm again. 

He walks straight to the owlery and disregarding the filthy floor he sits down cross-legged and begins to scribble down his thoughts. It’s as if a dam has broken inside of him. Before he knows it, he’s pouring out all of his feelings and insecurities, and particularly his questions. He writes until he’s run out of parchment. 

Then he pushes to his feet and pokes one of the school owls. It wakes up with a flutter of wings and obediently holds out its leg so that Harry can tie the letter to it, then flies out of the nearest window and disappears amongst the clouds. 

While he waits for the reply Harry walks around the edge of the lake, stopping after a while to toss some flat rocks along the water surface, then continues his slow trot until he’s back where he started…

When he spots the approaching owl his heart leaps, but as soon as he’s unrolled the short reply it seems to sink like a stone again. 

”Puppy, 

You should be asking Draco these questions… 

Good luck, sweetie!

Love

Your daddy”

Crumpling the parchment in his hand angrily, Harry kicks a rock into the water. He relishes the throbbing pain in his toes for a moment, before he starts to walk back to the castle. 

This time when he returns to the Slytherin Common Room, Draco is sitting with the girls in front of the fire again. He immediately looks up when Harry walks in, as if expecting him and when Harry approaches his eyes are wary but hopeful, while the girls glare suspisciously. Harry ignores them and keeps his eyes pinned firmly on Draco’s. 

”Can we talk?” he mutters. 

Draco nods and hurriedly climbc to his feet. Harry wheels around and stomps back to the dorm, trusting the other boy to follow. 

As they shut the door behind them, Harry is struck by a sense of deja vú and has to take a deep breath to ground himself. As much as he would prefer to repeat their earlier tryst and leave the questions for another time, they need to address this… He needs to…

”I’ve been thinking”, he begins. 

Draco’s eyes are impossible big and shiny. He reminds Harry of Selina when she wants a cuddle. Sighing in frustration, he tears his eyes away and glares at the floor board between their feet instead. 

”I’ve been thinking about the future”, he starts again. ”I mean…”

Another sigh of frustration escapes him and he plucks the glasses off his face and rubs a hand roughly over his eyes… How come he could write inches and inches worth of questions in his letter to his daddy, but now he can’t even formulate a single one?

Pushing the glasses back on his face, Harry glances up at the other boy again. He looks wary, scared almost. And then it hits Harry — like a smack in the face — and he knows what he needs to do…

”You know what… It’s fine”, he says blankly, registering the look of surprise and relief on the other boy’s face and steeling himself. ”Take Pansy to the Ball, get your parents off your back…” 

”R-Really?” 

”Yes. I don’t want to cause a rift between you and your parents. So you do what you have to do and I’ll… I’ll ask someone else to the Ball…” 

Draco blinks. ”Someone else?” 

”Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it and… maybe it’s better this way, you know… I mean, we’re only fourteen”, Harry says, swallowing hard. 

”What way?” Draco asks quietly. 

”You know”, Harry says off-handedly. ”Not being exclusive.” 

Draco’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth a couple of times, but no words come out. Harry forces himself to plaster a smile on his face, even though nothing has ever made him feel less inclined to smile in his life. And then he wills himself to walk away. Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, until he reaches Seamus, Theodore and Blaise out in the Common Room. He’s not sure if Draco has followed him out of the dorm until Pansy asks him where he is. He avoids meeting the girl’s eyes and tells her he probably went to lie down with a book or something. 

”Who’s winning?” he asks Blaise and feigns interest in the chess game going on in front of him. 

Blaise narrows his eyes at him. Harry swallows and meets his eyes steadily, raising his eyebrows in expectation. 

”I am”, the boy says after a slightly too long pause. ”Who else…”

Harry nods, not really caring. He imagines he can still hear the wind rushing past his ears… 

*

As the last Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas approaches, the autumn grey of the sky steadily turns to white promising snow. Draco hasn’t spoken one word to Harry since their rather one-sided conversation in the dorm and it’s been almost four days… Harry has also become Pansy’s and Daphne’s least favourite person after Hermione Granger again, the girls having taken to scowl at him until he caves in and returns their glares, only to then haughtily turn away and sniff in disgust… 

However, Harry is determined to keep his resolve, sure that his gut feeling will steer him right even if he, in the meantime, has to suffer through the girls’ annoying behaviour and (more importantly) the tense silence between himself and Draco.

Resolve aside, Harry is beyond relieved when Saturday morning rolls around and he is lining up to have his name ticked by Filch the caretaker, eager to get away from it all and go home to his dads, to forget about the Yule Ball, and the Triwizard Tournament, and even Draco, even if it’s just for one day…

As always, his daddy comes outside to meet him when he walks up the small driveway and Harry more or less runs into his waiting arms. 

”Oh, it’s wonderful to have you home…” Remus mumbles, his voice muffled by Harry’s hair. 

”It’s great to be home”, Harry says. 

”Come on, I’ve made your favourite…”

”Where’s dad?” Harry asks, sinking down in his usual seat at the kitchen table. 

”He was called into work late last night and he’s still not home”, Remus says with a sigh. ”He said to say sorry if he missed you, but he might still make it home before you have to go back…”

”Yeah, we’ll see I guess…” Harry says, returning his daddy’s pinched smile. 

”So did you and Draco work it out?”

”Ehm…” Harry looks down at his plate and prods the pie slice awkwardly. ”Yeah, almost… I eh… kind of gave him an ultimatum…”

Peering up at Remus’ face again, Harry catches the look of surprise in his eyes before he blinks it away. 

”You… you did?” he says blankly. 

”Yeah, sort of”, Harry says and swallowing round the small lump in his throat he looks down again. ”Not outright, but he’ll take it as one… I just said maybe it’s for the better if we’re not exclusive anyway, so he should take Pansy to the Ball like he wants and I’ll just ask someone else —” 

”Harry…” 

He can hear the disapproval in his daddy’s voice and can’t bring himself to look up again. To see it in his face, see the disappointment in his eyes, that would just be too much… 

”Now I just have to find someone who’ll go with me, and then I’m sure Draco will —” 

”Get jealous?” 

”— Come around”, Harry corrects, shifting uncomfortably and scowling at his Shepard’s pie. 

”Harry, I understand that you’re hurting, but you can’t just use people—” 

”I’m not”, Harry says firmly. ”I asked someone I like to a dance and they said no. Now I’m going to ask someone else. Because I can’t go to the Ball without a partner, Snape told me so. What else am I supposed to do—?” 

”I guess I’ll have to trust you to do what feels right, Harry…” Remus says, but he says it in a way that makes Harry feel awful about himself. 

”Can we please talk about something else?” he mutters.

Remus sighs softly. But after a moment’s awkward silence, he starts telling Harry about the textbook he’s working on and Harry gratefully dives into the conversation, asking him every question he can think of and by the time he’s getting ready to go back to Hogwarts, he feels a little better about himself again. 

That is, until he gets back to the Common Room and sees Draco, Pansy and Daphne huddled together in the corner and accidentally locks eyes with the blonde boy for a second, before he quickly looks down and frowns at the sketch book in front of him, looking like a kicked puppy… Pansy and Daphne shoot Harry a set of thunderous glares that makes him feel all of three inches tall and he swallows a sigh.

In a moment of weakness, he considers disregarding Professor Snape and revolt against the traditions of the Triwizard Tournament and just go alone to the Yule Ball after all… Rita Skeeter likes to call him a rebel, so he might as well live up to the title… 

”You can’t go alone”, Blaise tells him firmly, when he voices this thought. ”That will just highlight things and Draco will get upset, trust me…”

”Damn it…” Harry mutters and then gives the other boy a speculative look. 

”Oh no… I’m not coming between you and Draco, no way… and don’t bother asking Seamus either, or anyone else in Slytherin, unless it’s Millicent Bulstrode or something.” 

”Millicent Bulstrode?” Harry repeats in confusion. 

”Yeah, you know someone who’s obviously not a threat… could be Daphne too, but I don’t think Seamus would be too happy about that. He’s still harbouring his delusional crush on her… but there’s the younger girls as well, Astoria Greengrass is pretty cute and you’re about the same height as her too, so you won’t look like a midget on the dance floor—!” 

Harry shoots him a sour look. 

”Of course, if you actually wanted to take someone Draco would perceive as a threat”, Blaise adds in a conspiratorial undertone. ”If you should want to, you know, make him jealous… I’d look to Gryffindor. Hit him where it really hurts — and if you ever tell anyone, especially Draco, that I said that, I will cut off your bullocks in your sleep!”

Harry nods quickly, then sinks into thought as Blaise’s word echo on a loop in his head… of course, he knows exactly which Gryffindor his friend is referring to… and if he really wants to make Draco jealous, then taking Ron to the Ball will definitely do the trick, there’s no doubt about that — and he’d be sure to enjoy himself with the redhead at the ball as well — but question is, would it be a step too far… He wants to rattle Draco, not push him away completely after all…

It’s Pansy that finally settles it for him. 

Harry walks into the Common Room on the morning of the twentieth and sees the girl drape a silk necktie around Draco’s neck, the pale pink fabric matching a dress thrown over the back of a nearby armchair perfectly, and Daphne who is admiring Pansy’s skills as the girl begins to tie the necktie, claps her hands together and squeals, ”You’re going to look so gorgeous together!”

Harry zeroes in on the cool smirk on Pansy’s face and feels a small but strong ball of white-hot rage flare up in the pit of his stomach, and it’s that rage that propels him forward and pushes him to walk out of the Common Room and up from the dungeons. 

It urges him on past herds of giggling girls and Christmas carolling suits of armours in the corridors, and carries him out into the bright sunlight outside the castle, made all the more brighter by the blanket of fresh snow on the grounds. 

Finally he spots a familiar mop of red hair across the courtyard and stalks over. Ron looks up in surprise when Harry stops in front of the bottom half of the snowman he appears to be building with Longbottom and Granger. His nose and cheeks are almost as red as his hair and his eyes are bright. He’s not pretty, or even handsome but there’s something pleasant about his face, Harry thinks. Not that it matters. He’s not actually asking the boy out. 

”Hi Ron”, he says.

”Ehm, hiya, Harry…”

”Oh — er — hi, Granger, Longbottom”, Harry adds hastily after an awkward pause.

”Hi…” they chorus pleasantly enough, but their eyes are guarded as they peer at him over the top of the snowman.

”Ron, can I talk to you? Er… in private?”

”Ehm… sure, I guess…” the taller boy says, his cheeks growing redder. 

They walk a few paces away from the other two Gryffindors and the half-finished snowman, the unnaturally loud crunching of the snow under their feet highlighting the silence between them. Harry glances up at the other boy, noticing how much taller he’s become since the last time they were this close and swallowing a sigh… seems like every boy in their year, apart from Harry, is having growth spurt after growth spurt…

”So… what’s up?” Ron says, glancing down at Harry as they reach the edge of the courtyard. 

”Well… actually, I was wondering if you have a date for the Yule Ball yet, because if not I was thinking maybe… maybe you and I could go together… as friends!” he adds hastily. 

”Friends…?” Ron repeats in a hollow sort of voice, staring at him in disbelief. 

”If you want”, Harry mutters awkwardly. 

”You’re… ehm… you’re not taking ferret-face—?”

Harry frowns.

”Sorry”, Ron says quickly. ”Malfoy — you’re not taking Malfoy?”

”No”, Harry says flatly. ”So what do you say?”

”Ehm, well, I mean… I guess so?” the redhead says uncertainly, the redness in his face reaching his ears. 

”Cool…” Harry says, smiling for the first time, but then he remembers what Professor Snape told him and his face falls again. ”Oh, ehm, actually… I should probably tell you, as a champion I have to dance at least once, to… er, open the ball. It’s tradition apparently, so… if you’re okay with that—?”

”What, dance with you in front… everyone…?” Ron says faintly, blinking quickly.

”Yeah…” Harry says slowly, wincing at the look of horror on the other boy’s face. ”I mean it wouldn’t be just us, it would be the other champions and their partners as well, and let’s be honest, out of the four of us, no-one’s going to be looking at me, are they? Not next to an international Quidditch star, a part-Veela and someone who’s apparently ’dreamy’…”

Ron laughs and shakes his head slightly, ”Who called Diggory ’dreamy’ then?”

”Who didn’t…” Harry mutters. 

”Well, you’re the Boy Hero, mate…” the other boy says with a teasing grin. ”All right, I’ll do it. I’ll go to the Ball with you.”

Harry’s lack of interest in dicussing dress robes and colour schemes finally comes back to bite him on the bottom on the evening of Christmas Eve when he takes out the dress robes he’s meant to wear the next night. They’re cut in a simple design, which is all right, but the fabric… the all but shimmering emerald green fabric that he’d randomly pointed to in Madam Malkin’s last summer without even really looking at it… 

Well, he’s looking now and there’s simply no way that he’ll be able to show himself in public wearing something so… so… green! 

Looking around in a panic, he sees Seamus’ light blue dress robes slung carelessly over the footboard of his bed and on the hangings of the four-poster next to it, Blaise’s dress robes are hung with a Temporary Sticking Charm. They’re a nice, subtle ox blood. 

Swirling around, Harry sees Crabbe and Goyle’s dress robes are both green as well, but a very dark forest green and not nearly as luminous as Harry’s. Theodore’s are a nice, subtle midnight blue and Draco’s, he knows, are made from black velvet — with a stupid pink necktie… 

I’ll stand out like a sore thumb, he thinks wildly. It will be me and Dumbledore! 

Choking down a hysterical impulse to laugh, Harry thinks he might as well go all out and attach a bunch of twinkly stars on the sleeves and then fashion himself a nice long pointy hat to go with the outfit as well… Collapsing on his back on top of his bed, Harry smothers his face with the horrid dress robes and groans. 

Any hope he might have had of sneaking by unnoticed during the opening dance number has just gone out the window. Sure, Krum is an international Quidditch star, Fleur Veela-gorgeous and Diggory dreamy… but will any of them be glowing in the dark? 

I don’t think so, Harry thinks bitterly.

He’s still fretting about it the next evening, standing on tip toe in front of the mirror in the Slytherin boys’ bathroom and twisting awkwardly to get a better look at the robes from all angles. The mirror snickers at him and he glares at it, or rather his own reflection… He hears the door creak open behind him and spins around. 

Draco stops dead inside the threshold and stares at him. He’s wearing his velvet dress robes and they’re hugging his slim frame in all the right places, looking impossibly black — Harry is reminded of the Black Lake at night and is struck by the absurb desire to dive in…

Something pink catches his peripheral and he looks down to see the silk necktie clutched in the other boy’s pale fingers. 

Feeling his resolve slam back into place, Harry steels himself and turns back to face the mirror. 

”You look nice”, he says, taking care to keep his voice neutral and almost succeeding. 

”You t-too…” the other boy mutters faintly. 

Harry scowls at his own reflection again as the mirror lets out another derisive snigger. He wets his hands with water from the taps and tries to flatten his hair, pulling on his fringe to get it to cover the scar on his forehead. 

Draco sidles up next to him and starts to tie the necktie with slow and careful movements. 

”So who did you ask…?” 

Harry glances over and catches the transformation from petulant to polite interest in the other boy’s face. 

”Just a friend”, he says vaguely. ”I’ll see you at the ball…”

Then before the blonde can say anything else or ask any follow-up questions, Harry hurries out of the bathroom. 

Eager to show off in front of their foreign guests, the teachers at Hogwarts have continued to push themselves to the limit with the Christmas decorations… Besides the Everlasting icicles hanging from every available surface like the banisters of stairscases and window sills around the castle, the twelve Christmas trees inside the cavernous Entrance Hall have been decorated with everything from luminous holly berries to real live fairies and golden owls, hooting happily every time a student walks past and now, as every Hogwarts student in Fourth Year and above have gathered between the trees to await the strike of eight o’clock excitedly, the owls are fluttering their wings and hooting almost manically. 

As every other student with a partner from another house, Harry is weaving his way through the crowd scanning the faces around him until he spots a mop of messy red hair and quickly makes his way over. 

His apology for wearing such eye-catching dress robes immediately dissolves on his tongue as Ron’s own dress robes registers. Like Draco’s they’re made out of velvet, but that’s where the similarities end. Abruptly. Whereas Draco’s robes had shimmered like the surface of the Dark Lake when he’d moved, the maroon velvet of Ron’s robes is matte with wear and the lace frill at the collar as well as the matching cuffs look moth-eaten and frayed. 

Harry blinks. Ron’s face immediately turns tomato red and he mumbles something about leaving it at the last minute and having to get a used pair of dress robes. 

Feeling strangely relieved for some reason, Harry simply grins. 

”These were the only ones in my size —”

”I think they’re awesome”, he says and finds to his own surprise that he actually means it — they’re so ugly, they’re actually quite cool. ”You’ll match the Weird Sisters!”

”Oh yeah, I hadn’t thought of that”, Ron says, perking up again. 

The oak front doors open and the Durmstrang students march inside lead by Karkaroff, looking as smarmy as ever in his fur-lined robes. Harry’s eyes immediately dart to Krum at the front of the group. He, like all the other boys from Durmstrang, is wearing blood red robes lined with dark brown fur, a stark contrast to the light blue robes of the petite girl hanging off his arm. Harry doesn’t recognise her and thinks she must be a Beauxbatons… 

”Champions and their partners, over here, please!” Professor McGonagall’s stern voice calls from the closed doors to the Great Hall. 

Harry and Ron begin to make their way over to the doors, the crowd parting to let them through, and stop in front of the ever stern-faced Transfigurations teacher. Keeping true to her heritage, Professor McGonagall has chosen to go with dress robes of Christmas red tartan and fashioned a small wreath of thistle along the rim of her hat. 

Soon they’re joined by Fleur Delacour and her partner, a very handsome blonde boy from Beauxbatons, wearing matching silver and blue, and Diggory with his arm around the waist of a pretty Ravenclaw Fifth Year called Cho Chang, whom Harry recognises from the Quidditch pitch. She has the Seeker position on the Ravenclaw team and is very good. 

Lastly, Krum sidles up to Harry, the girl in blue pulled close to his side. Harry does a double take and stares at her. 

It’s Hermione Granger. 

”Good evening, Harry…” Krum grunts softly. 

”Hi Harry”, Granger squeals happily. 

Harry, catching himself gaping like a fish, immediately snaps his mouth shut and  presses his lips together in a small smile before tearing his eyes away from the girl and fixing them instead on the Durmstrang boy. 

”Mr Weasley”, Krum adds politely, nodding at Ron.

Harry turns to see Ron gaping at Hermione as well and gently knocks his shoulder against his arm. The redhead jumps and quickly composes himself, but Harry can see him continue to make incredulous eyes at the girl, trying to communicate silently with her. If the other Gryffindor notices however, she doesn’t let on. Instead she looks around in interest, her large front teeth glinting in the lights from the Christmas trees around them. 

”Well, then…” Professor McGonagall says. ”You are to wait here until the rest of the students are seated, then you will enter as a cortege and make your way to the Head Table at the front of the Hall… understood?”

They all murmur in affirmative, glancing nervously at each other. 

With a satisfied curt nod, Professor MacGonagall flicks her wand at the massive oak doors and they immediately creak open. Then with a last stern look, she leaves them to instruct the rest of the student body to enter the Great Hall. 

Harry automatically scans the faces of the other students as they walk past, but as soon as he catches a flash of white-blonde hair, he ducks his head and stares at the floor instead before he can see the look in Draco’s face, suddenly terrified to find out what emotions might be at war there, now that he knows Harry’s asked Ron to the Ball. 

As they all line up procession style, Harry scans the other champions and their partners quickly, deciding his and Ron’s best chance at going unnoticed is to let Krum and Fleur go first but let Diggory bring up the rear, the Hufflepuff being taller and than both Harry and Ron and his shiny hair and dazzling smile is enough to draw anyone’s attention. So grabbing Ron’s hand quickly, he squeezes in between Krum and Diggory with an apologetic smile at Cho Chang as the girl has to take a step back. 

Walking into the Great Hall to the applause of the other students, Harry feels his cheeks burn and ducks his head quickly, shaking his hair into his face. It’s not until they come to a stop in front of the teachers seated at the Head Table that Harry looks up and immediately locks eyes with a young red-haired wizard sitting next to Ludo Bagman. Ignoring Ron’s groan next to him, Harry makes his way over to the empty seat next to the wizard when he gives him a expectant look and pulls the chair out meaningfully. 

”Hello, Harry…” the young man says importantly. ”It’s good to see you again…”

Again, Harry thinks with a pang. I know this guy?

”Ron…” the man adds, nodding at Ron as he takes the seat on the other side of Harry. 

Looking between the two of them and noticing the family resemblance for the first time, Harry realises this must be one of Ron’s older brothers… and if we’ve met, it must have been at Hogwarts, so this must be — 

”Percy”, he says, smiling politely. 

”What are you doing here?” Ron mutters.

”I’ve just been promoted”, Percy says with an air of supreme superiority. ”I’m now Mr Crouch’s personal assistant, and I’m here representing him…”

”Why isn’t he here himself?” Harry asks curiously.

”I’m afraid Mr Crouch isn’t well, not well at all”, Percy says with a melodramatically pained look on his face. ”Hasn’t been since the World Cup — well, no wonder — overworked, of course! He’s not as young as he used to be, after all, though still brilliant, of course! The mind remains as great as it ever was, but the World Cup was a fiasco for the whole Ministry and being the great man that he is, Mr Crouch felt personally responsible, which is of course absurd, he did nothing wrong after all, but after that nasty business with that house-elf of his as well, let’s just say he took it very hard, very hard indeed — and now he has no-one looking after him either, and like I said, he is getting on…”

Harry stares as the older Weasley continues to talk, wondering in amazement if he ever needs to breathe…

”… and with that revolting Skeeter woman buzzing around as well — no, poor man’s having a well-earned, quiet Christmas. I’m just glad he knew he had someone he could rely upon to take his place!”

Percy turns to look at Harry and Ron again finally, drawing himself up importantly and raising his eyebrows as if expecting praise. Harry smiles politely at him and nods, but Ron merely snorts. 

”So has he stopped calling you ’Weatherby’ yet?” he asks lightly. 

That seems to deflate the other Weasley considerably and he slouches in his seat before shooting his younger brother a glare. 

Not wanting to get dragged into a sibling dispute, Harry quickly looks away from the both of them and notices for the first time that the four house tables have been replaced by a hundred or so smaller round tables, each lit by a lantern in its centre and seating a dozen people. 

Hundreds of garlands of ivy and mistletoe hang between the frost glittering walls and snow is falling from the Enchanted Ceiling, only to fade into nothingness just before reaching the hundreds upon hundreds of candles floating in midair.

It’s beautiful, Harry thinks, just as he hears Fleur’s unimpressed voice drift over from a few seats away, claiming that the Palace of Beauxbatons is more impressive and magnificent in every way, her date nodding his agreement with a snooty look at the ceiling. Harry snorts softly to himself and looks away.  

Noticing the small printed menu propped against his water goblet, he picks it up and scans the short list of options. He looks around the hall curiously, but doesn’t spot and waiters anywhere and wonders how they’re meant to let the house-elves in the kitchen know which dish they want… But just as this thought has struck him, Professor Dumbledore picks up his own menu a few seats down from Harry and then clears his throat softly before telling his empty plate in a clear voice, ”Pork chops!”

Instantly, his plate is filled with pork chops and the rest of the table follow his lead and order their own food. Looking at the menu again, Harry decides on goulash and tells his plate so. In the next moment, a bowl of goulash stew appears on top of it. Grinning, Harry grabs his fork and starts to dig in. 

For the most part Harry spends the duration of the dinner chatting amicably with Ron, the two of them bringing each other up to date with their lives and sharing stories from the classes they don’t share. Ron wisely steers clear of the subject of Draco and his and Harry’s relationship and Harry happily returns the favour by not commenting on the furtive looks Ron keeps throwing Granger and Krum throughout the dinner. All in all, Harry surprises himself by having a really pleasant time. 

When plates have been scraped clean of pudding, Professor Dumbledore stands up and instructs the students to stand as well and then moves the round tables aside with a flick of his wand. The lanterns die down and the candles overhead begin to burn a lot brighter. With a lurch, Harry realises the Headmaster has just created a dance floor in the middle of the Great Hall. 

There is a collective intake of breath followed by a hiss of excited whispers as Dumbledore conjures up a small stage along the right-hand wall of the hall, upon which a drum set, several guitars, a lute, a cello and some bagpipes pop into existence. 

In the next moment, the Weird Sisters themselves walk onto the stage and the Hall erupts in enthusiastic applause and cheers. Harry beams, clapping his hands furiously. The members of the band all have matching mops of scraggly hair that makes Harry’s hairstyle look conservatively tame and their shiny black robes are ripped and torn and frayed. 

The lead guitarist, Kirely Duke, grabs one of the guitars and slings the strap over his shoulder and the rest of the band quickly follows suit, grabbing their instruments while Myron Wagtail, the singer, performs a Sonorous Charm on himself. 

Harry is so excited about the concert that he completely forgets about what’s about to happen, until Ron prods his arm insistently and he looks around to see the other champions and their partners standing. 

”Come on”, Ron says, also standing but bent down to speak in an undertone. ”We’re supposed to dance!”

Feeling all eyes on him as he hurries to his feet and promptly trips over the hem of his dress robes, Harry quickly grabs Ron’s arm as he the taller boy reaches out to catch him. Face burning, Harry mutters a thanks and lets the other boy grab his hand gently and steer him out onto the dance floor where the other three couples are already poised gracefully and waiting for them. 

Ron pulls him a little closer to his body and puts his other hand gingerly on the small of Harry’s back. Swallowing nervously, Harry puts his own free hand on top of Ron’s shoulder. As soon as it lands, Kirely Duke plays the first wailing chord of the intro to one of their most well-known ballads. 

Glancing shyly at the other champions, Harry is dismayed to see them begin to move gracefully over the floor. He peers up into Ron’s face nervously and tries to follow as best as he can when the taller boy begins to lead him in time to the music. It’s not as bad as Harry had feared, he doesn’t trip over his own feet (or Ron’s) and fall flat on his face, but his movements are jerky and he keeps second-guessing himself and missing his cues to take a step. 

Ron seems equally embarassed, but suddenly he pauses their awkward two-step infused waltz and Harry looks up in surprise. The Gryffindor’s blue eyes are twinkling and he smiles nervously. 

”Ready?” he mumbles. 

”Wha—?” Harry begins, but immediately cuts himself off with a startled yelp as he is suddenly and forcefully spun around quickly. 

With a carefree chuckle, Ron keeps spinning him round and round and, somewhere around the third or fourth spin, just before he starts to get dizzy, Harry cracks up and also relaxes for the first time since they stood up from the table. When the other boy finally stops spinning him, Harry crashes into his chest, laughing hard as his vision clears again. The taller boy is grinning down at him and Harry finds himself returning it stupidly. 

After that, they just have fun with it. Ron keeps guiding him with sure movements, spinning him once, here and there, and even dipping him backwards at one point, laughing as Harry lets out a startles squeak and clutches his arms in a panic. Harry is vaguely aware of a smatter of applause and appreciative chuckles from the other students around them, as Ron pulls him up again and he gives the taller boy a good-natured shove on the chest before falling into step with him again. 

As the first song finally finishes and a new one starts, most of the students grab their partners and flood the dance floor all around them. 

”Want to take a break?” Ron grins. 

”Sure…” Harry says, slightly winded from dancing so enthusiastically and laughing almost the whole time as well. 

They weave through the dancing crowd and make their way over to the refreshments table in the corner. Harry wipes the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his robe while Ron pours them both a cup of punch.

”Thanks”, he says as he accepts the offered cup. ”Do you mind if we step outside for a minute, it’s really hot in here…”

Ron nods his agreement and they make their way out into the Entrance Hall and walk over to the open oak doors for some fresh air. As they reach the doors, they notice several massive rose bushes that have been planted on the lawn over night, growing high and connecting at the top, creating a sort of grotto twinkling with fairy lights… In the middle of the grotto stands several statues of what appears to be Father Christmas and his reindeer. 

”Wow…” Harry breathes and steps outside, staring in wonder at the display in front of him. 

”Let’s check it out”, Ron suggests and touches Harry’s elbow gently. 

They step inside the grotto and Harry looks up at the many fairies sitting perched on the branches above him and smiles. Looking down again, he catches Ron staring at him before the other boy quickly looks up as well and nods in agreement. 

”It’s nice…”

They stand in silence, sipping their drinks for a moment. It’s not awkward or tense, but not entirely comfortable either… Harry can’t really explain it, but something about the atmosphere is just too obviously romantic… and Ron’s great, he’s just not the person I really want to be out here with, that’s all, Harry thinks. 

Looking over at the other boy, he wonders who he’d rather be out here with. Then he remembers the looks he kept throwing Granger during dinner. 

”Granger looks really pretty tonight”, he says in a carefully neutral voice and watches the other boy closely over the rim of his cup. 

”I guess…” Ron mumbles. ”And… ehm… er… I kind of wanted to change the subject to Malfoy, but I can’t really say I think he looks pretty, so… yeah…”

Harry snorts in amusement, ”Well, you don’t know what you’re talking about then, because he’s incredibly pretty —”

”Ugh…” Ron mutters, pulling a face that makes Harry laugh, but then he seems to get thoughtful. ”So it’s true then… you and him, you’re… you know?”

”Rita Skeeter might be a lying cow, but there’s no way she could have faked that photograph, is there…”

”No, but… I dunno… I’ve kissed friends before”, Ron says, blushing a deep red. ”Maybe not like that, but… I figured maybe you did things differently in Slytherin…”

Harry laughs, ”Probably…”

”So, anyway… how come you didn’t take him to this thing, then?”

”It’s complicated”, Harry says wryly.  

”Yeah, why doesn’t that surprise me”, Ron says and gives him a sympathetic smile. 

Nibbling his lower lip thoughtfully, Harry considers confiding in the Gryffindor… he seems to have a very logical mind and, even though it’s clear he’s grown up with lots of siblings and most of them older, since he comes off as very blunt sometimes, when he has to, Harry thinks he can be just as sensitive and supportive as Draco.

Mind made up, Harry opens his mouth to speak, but before he can get the words out, they hear a familiar voice from the other side of the rose bushes… 

”—don’t see what there is to fuss about, Igor”, Professor Snape says coldly. 

”Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!” the harsch voice of Professor Karkaroff answers, sounding anxiously hushed and not at all smarmy as usual. ”It’s been getting clearer and clearer for months, I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it —”

”Then flee”, Snape snaps. ”Flee, I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”

Suddenly the dense wall of the rose bushes behind Harry and Ron is blasted apart and as the light of the moon outside spills in through the hole, it illuminates the silhouettes of two other students before they run through the hole with startled yelps. 

”Ten points from Hufflepuff, Fawcett”, they hear Snape snarl.

Harry turns around to see the two students appear from around the corner of the rose bush next to him and thunder up the front steps of the castle. 

”And ten points from Ravenclaw, too, Stebbins!” Snape calls after them. 

”Come on, before he blasts us too”, Harry tells Ron in a quiet undertone and step out of the grotto and into the light of the moon below the front steps. 

”Harry”, Snape says in surprise. 

They turn around to see the Potions Master, clad in his usual black robes, with his wand twitching at his side. He narrows his eyes at the two of them. Next to him, Karkaroff seems to pull himself to his full height and immediately begins to curl the end of his goatee nervously around a finger.

”And… Mr Weasley…” Snape adds, glaring suspisciously at Ron. ”What are you two doing?”

”We’re walking”, Ron says curtly. ”Not a crime, is it?”

”Just stepped outside for some fresh air, Sir”, Harry says hurriedly, shooting Ron a warning glare. 

”Well, on your way then”, Snape says and gives them a dismissive wave. 

”Yes, Sir”, Harry says quickly, grabbing Ron by the hand and dragging him back inside the castle.

As they tumble through the doors, they find themselves unexpectedly face to face with Draco and Pansy, and Harry startles as he accidentally locks eyes with the blonde boy, quickly dropping Ron’s hand again. The other Slytherins’ eyes narrow as they glare between the two of them and knowing what it must look like, Harry feels his face heat up and silently curses himself. 

”We were just —” he starts to speak, but Draco is already turning away. 

He storms back inside the Great Hall and Harry’s voice catches painfully in his throat. Pansy gives him a look of pure loathing, before hurrying after her date and Harry feels himself deflate completely as he stares after them. 

Aware of the Gryffindor next to him, Harry sucks in a small breath and tries to compose himself. 

”Ehm, maybe not so complicated… anymore…” he mumbles with a half-choked chuckle. 

Ron gives him a pained smile when he looks over, which only cements the awfulness of the situation.

”Let’s just dance…” he mutters.

Ron nods quickly and leads him out onto the dance floor, but as hard as he tries to make Harry laugh and forget about Draco, and as much as Harry himself tries to genuinely have a good time, he can’t shake the regret clawing at him the rest of the night.

When the clock chimes half past eleven and he’s saying good night to Ron in the Entrance Hall, he feels extremely relieved. Despite this, he tells Ron he had a really good time — and he does mean it, just not for the majority of the eveing… The Gryffinor gives him a pinched smile and nods.

”I’ll see you, I guess…”

”Yeah, see you Ron…”

Even though Harry can’t wait to collapse into his bed and fall asleep, so that this day will finally be over, he drags his feet as he heads down to the dungeons, dreading the moment when he’ll have to come face to face with Draco again and hoping that, if he takes a long enough time to get to the dorm, the other boy will have already got into bed, and he won’t have to face him until tomorrow…

When he enters the dorm, that is exactly the first thing that happens, however: immediately he finds himself in the crossfire of a pair of shuttered, steel grey eyes… until they flit away again, just as suddenly. 

And just like every other night in the past week, Harry and Draco avoid eye contact at all cost while they get changed into their pyjamas and they don’t speak a word to each other. Except the silence between them seems both heavier and colder now. 

Harry considers breaking it once, but the hard look in the blonde’s eyes stops him.

With a forlorn sigh, he climbs into bed and snuggles under the covers before closing the bed hangings around him with a flick of his wand. And for the first time in his life, he actually welcomes the darkness…