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The Hogwarts Multicultural Yule Ball was going quite splendidly for Draco.
McGonagall had invited the seventh and eighth years from Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and even Ilvermorny to attend the ball, although their entire stay would last for five weeks. A surprising amount of people showed up, although Draco supposed it was due to the rumors of ‘the Chosen One,’ more than actual interest in the ball itself. However, more people meant more possibilities for him to find a partner.
That being said, it was going perfectly except for the fact that he didn’t have a date.
So instead of dancing to Kaiser-Walzer with a suitable partner, he was stuck at the back of the Great Hall-turned-ballroom with Pansy and Blaise.
“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it,” Pansy rolled her eyes, for what must have been the tenth time that evening. It was a wonder she wasn’t dizzy yet.
“Says you,” he hmphed, turning slightly away from her. “Don’t you know that—”
“‘A pureblood in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a spouse.’ I don’t know why you still listen to Lady Red’s hogwash.” She turned her nose up and mimicked his voice in frankly an awful tone.
The local Hogwarts gossip column, as usual, had slandered Draco over his involvement in the war and his social standing, which frankly was in tatters. Although with the way Lady Red wrote about him, one would think that she was born in the 1800s.
“Pans, just let him go.” Blaise finally butted in, most likely tired of their petty arguing.
Draco didn’t miss the way they eyed each other, before blushing and turning away.
Even his best friends were already getting together. Merlin help him.
Truthfully, Draco’s standards weren’t particularly high. Of course, someone in his house would be highly preferable, but as it was now, even a Gryffindor would be good enough for him if they matched well. Having a reputation as the son of a former Death Eater did nothing to help his chances, unfortunately. Although perhaps some Slytherins would appreciate it. Or perhaps some of the Durmstrang students who were more inclined to the Dark Arts.
After the War, the Malfoy name had lost a significant amount of respect and standing in high society. Everywhere Draco went, there were hushed whispers and murmurs all about. Which he deserved, but his mother had already started to nag him about the importance of finding a good spouse early on, to ‘claim’ them. Whatever the hell that meant.
However, Draco saw merit in what she was saying. And with all the guests coming from all around the world, he had many options to choose from.
Suddenly, several people in the front of the room started squealing and even screaming. Draco didn’t have to look up to know who had walked in.
“Oh look, Saint Potter is finally here,” he sneered. As the screams started getting louder, Blaise grimaced audibly.
“Salazar, will they ever shut up?”
“I suppose not.”
While Pansy and Blaise started muttering to themselves (and standing a little too close together), Draco figured that he might as well start looking around the hall for a partner.
He made sure to adjust his gold chain, so it caught the light from the floating chandeliers above. Although the Hogwarts students shifted out of his way when they saw him, a few of the Beauxbaton students started to look at him with interest. Perfect. Now, all he needed was to—
“Harry Potter?!” Draco winced at the shrill voice right next to his ear, before straightening up and scowling in the general direction of the scream. However, he paused when he noticed that he wasn’t three meters away from Potter and his trio. Well, Weasley and Granger looked quite out of it, if one bothered to realize that they were staring at each other like two lovestruck Kneazles.
Draco had to restrain himself from vomiting because Weasel and his love life were definitely not involved in his line of thought. Rather, he focused on Potter, who seemed quite knackered, to be honest. There were several Hogwarts students in front of him who were all generally incoherent from the presence of the Savior of Hogwarts. They all kept talking over each other and squealing, ‘Oh my god, we’re talking to Harry Potter!’
He was about to turn away in disgust, but he paused to contemplate. Perhaps he could make this work for him…
His plan was far-fetched but seeing that he had nothing to lose (although he would never admit this out loud), he might as well do it.
“Potter, you really should do something with your hair. It looks quite dreadful.”
The surprised look on Potter and his admirers’ faces was quite amusing.
“M-Malfoy?”
“Good evening, Potter. It seems I’m interrupting something here, aren’t I?”
The three girls sneered at him but said nothing.
Potter’s gaze started from the top of his neck and slowly strayed down to his gold-tipped shoes, lingering on his neck chain and the subtle highlights of gold in his hair.
Read gold, of course. There was no way he would settle for anything less.
“You seem quite taken with my outfit, oh mighty Chosen One.”
“More like blinded by it,” he retorted, his mouth curving into a small frown.
“Wonder how long it took you to come up with that one.”
“Maybe as long as it took you to stop staring at those Durmstrang students.”
“Looking at me quite often, aren’t you?”
Draco heard a murmur to his left and suddenly realized the small crowd of people gathered around the two of them. There were several Hogwarts female students who looked particularly vengeful. Even Weasley and Granger had come out of their disgusting little bubble and were staring at them quite openly.
Draco couldn’t stop the grin from spreading on his face.
“Say, Potter, if I had a certain… arrangement, if you will, in mind, how would you respond?”
“First of all, I don’t know why you’re even talking to me. And secondly, I’d hardly agree to do anything with you, Malfoy,” Potter scoffed.
“Even if it was mutually beneficial?”
Potter paused. “… it depends. Although I don’t know what I could even agree with you on.”
Draco allowed the comment to slide. “Why don’t you meet me in the Trophy Room in fifteen minutes to find out?”
There was a long pause, before a reluctant, “Fine. But you better not kill me.”
Draco raised his chin upwards slightly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend.” Potter’s face was an amusing combination of deadpan, horrified, and utterly confused.
“Yes.”
“Are you alright? Did someone curse you in the head?”
Draco scowled. “No, I’m very serious here, Potter. And I’m perfectly alright.”
“What? Why me? We hate each other!”
“That’s a bit untrue. I don’t quite hate you anymore, and I suspect that you don’t either. You wouldn’t have stood on trial for me if you did.”
“That’s different,” he frowned. “And besides, even if I don’t hate you, why would I want to bloody date you?”
Draco slowly walked over to one of the large trophies, inspecting it for a minute before he spoke up. “Well, for one, it would ensure that I can secure a good partner to court, and eventually get married to. And for you, I can assume that you will get significantly fewer proposals and desperate mothers trying to make you marry their children. I don’t think any eighth year has forgotten the potted plant incident.”
Potter blanched. “First of all, why can’t you just get some of the guests to date you? Or anybody else? And secondly, I don’t need help managing my… admirers.”
“In response to your first question, I can, but I expect that most of them are either not well-off, or will most likely consider it as a fling, not a real courtship.” Potter muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “barmy, he is,” but Draco decided to give him the benefit of doubt. “And I very strongly doubt that you can control those… people. You’ve almost been drugged with love potions at least once a week since the beginning of the term. And besides, staying around the son of a former Death Eater will clearly scare them off.”
He looked up from the trophy and turned to face Potter. “I don’t have much to lose. Neither do you unless you enjoy having all the media’s attention on you.”
More silence. Draco wasn’t surprised at the rejection. He should have known Potter would never agree to what was frankly a ridiculous request.
“Well, I’ll just—”
“I’ll do it.”
Draco paused. “There’s no going back, Potter.” His mouth curved up into a small smirk.
In response, he scoffed. “I’m not a Gryffindor for nothing. Bring it on, Malfoy.”
“You’re what?!”
It was a particularly noisy morning in the Great Hall. On one end of the hall, a certain Gryffindor was dealing with dozens and dozens of upset fans and dramatic letters and boxes of chocolate, while on the other end, a certain Slytherin was buttering his toast as several unopened Howlers landed in front of him from the multitude of owls from above. He had even taken to stacking and counting them magically. He was getting quite close to the fifty-count mark.
“We’ve agreed to a courtship, Blaise. And no, you are not on any sort of hallucination-inducing potions, Pansy.”
In front of the three Slytherins, laying spread open was the latest edition of Lady Red’s dreadful gossip column. Stretched across two pages was a picture of Draco and Potter walking out of the Trophy Room together, caught by some of Potter’s nosier followers. It was probably plastered all over the Daily Prophet by now.
“Draco, have you gone mad? Has Potty gone mad?!”
“Of course not, my dear friends. Potter and I simply came to an agreement.”
The state of Pansy’s hair was starting to approach Potter’s, with the way she was frantically shaking her head and tugging at it.
“Would you care to enlighten us on it? I swear to Merlin, Draco, if this has to do with your obsession with finding a ‘suitable match,’ I’m going to hex you.”
If it was another time, Draco would have laughed at their reactions, but he supposed they wouldn’t take it quite as well now.
“It’s does, unfortunately. Having Potter court me will place the two of us in the spotlight, and undoubtedly attract several potential suitors for me.”
He looked up from his over-buttered toast to see the two of their faces go red (even Blaise’s dark one), and they both looked like they were having an aneurysm and a stroke simultaneously.
“You could have done literally anything else, and you chose to date Potter? How did he even agree?” Pansy looked quite faint, and she clutched onto Blaise, who wrapped a not-very-platonic arm around her shoulder.
Draco smiled softly. “I am a master of persuasion, after all.”
They both gave him odd looks, but eventually, small smiles graced their faces. “You’re barmy, you know that?”
“If he hurts you, I swear I’ll make him wish I had given him off to Voldemort.”
Draco laughed. “Thank you. Really.”
The Howlers kept on piling up in front of Draco, but they were interrupting one of his rare sentimental moments, so he vanished them away.
It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, which meant that Draco got to enjoy a quiet, peaceful read in the library right next to his favorite window.
Well, at least he was going to, until Potter suddenly showed up in front of him, unannounced.
“Potter,” he said, neutrally.
“Draco,” he retorted. Said blonde raised an eyebrow.
“Alright then, Harry.” The name was unfamiliar on his tongue.
“Er, what are you doing this weekend?” Thankfully, the hallway was empty, or Draco would have felt even more awkward.
“Just reading in the library. How about you, dear boyfriend?”
Potter – no, Harry – scoffed, although there was a small grin on his face. The sunlight from the large windows made his eyes sparkle like jewels, and his skin look golden-brown. “Nothing, really. But anyway, I figured that we should go to Hogsmeade together.”
“Hogsmeade?” Why on earth would Draco go there? That was almost asking for someone to harass him.
“Well, we’re dating but we don’t really know much about each other, eh? I figured it would be good for the two of us. Especially you, you’re dreadfully pale.”
Draco scowled. “What makes you think I would want to go there?”
“I figured you would say no, so I brought you something to convince you.” Harry reached behind his back, and suddenly brought out a small bouquet of sunflowers that were tied together with a red bow.
Draco was speechless. He could only think about how Potter had gone out of his way to give him flowers, out of all things.
Merlin help him.
Draco hoped that there wasn’t a blush on his face, but from Potter’s subtly smug grin, there probably was.
He finally took the flowers from Potter, clutching them tightly. Almost as tightly as his heart clenched. “I suppose we could go out for a while.”
Harry smiled back at him brightly.
As Potter led Draco through the crowd to Madame Puddifoot’s tea shop with an arm around his shoulder, Draco couldn’t help but notice the stares and murmurs around them. Even mothers and their children stopped to watch the two of them pass by.
Draco made sure to lean even closer into Harry, smirking to himself as some fifth-year girls blushed angrily and jealously at him.
“I still can’t believe I agreed to this,” Harry sighed. “I’m still half-convinced that you’ve got some sort of spell on me.”
“It’s too late to back out now,” Draco responded, sounding too gleeful for his own good. “Besides, I’ve noticed a considerable number of potential suitors observing me.”
“I swear to Godric, you act like it’s the Victorian age or something. I doubt anyone cares about ‘courtships’ or whatever you talk about anymore.”
“You’re clearly unfamiliar with high society, then.”
“I’m certainly unfamiliar with whatever hoity-toity shit you do at your posh parties.”
Draco stopped walking indignantly, making Harry stop as well. “I’m sure everyone can see that, considering your dreadful hair.”
“My hair is not dreadful!”
The two of them continued their banter to the baffled looks of the shoppers surrounding them (although they were given quite a wide berth) until they got to Madame Puddifoot’s. Potter opened the door for Draco and bowed down mockingly. Draco resented that he was enjoying it this much.
They received slightly fewer stares in Madame Puddifoot’s, especially when Harry booked them the most private table in a hidden nook of the room.
Draco had personally never been inside before, seeing that he had always considered it a useless place to go to, even when he had briefly dated Pansy. It was quite funny that he was on a date here now. With his former arch-nemesis. At the table with the pinkest, frilliest bows and the gaudiest teacups.
“Well then, boyfriend, do you want to start snogging?” At the horrified look on Potter’s face, Draco burst out laughing.
“Ha-ha, very funny Malfoy,” Potter scowled. Draco’s laugh faded into a small snicker, before he dramatically opened up the menu for the shop, making sure that his gold rings were quite visible.
“What would you like to have, oh dear lover? The raspberry sundae looks quite nice.”
Potter hummed noncommittally. “Hm? Oh yeah, it does. I’m not sure I can finish it by myself though.”
“That’s the point of it, Harry. It’s meant for two people.”
“I knew that,” he muttered, sheepishly. For some reason, Draco found this to be quite… cute? Wait, cute? Potter was the farthest thing from cute. He was an uncouth barbarian who couldn’t even wear his hair properly. Definitely not cute…
Before Draco could make a witty retort, a waitress in a small pink dress came up to them with a notebook floating beside her, presumably to take orders. He didn’t miss the way she stared lovingly at Harry.
“Welcome to Madame Puddifoot’s sirs, are you ready to place your order?”
“Yes. One raspberry sundae.” Draco said briskly. The girl frowned at him, before turning to Harry. “Anything else, Mr. Potter?”
“No, that’s all. Thank you!” She blushed heavily and was almost skipping away as she left. Draco snorted after her.
“Adoring fan alert.”
“Jealous?”
“You wish, Potter.”
After a few minutes in silence, their dessert finally arrived. “Your dessert is ready, sirs!” The waitress came back with a sundae that looked much bigger than it did on the menu. Draco suspected it had something to do with Harry.
“Thank you! Here, have a tip.” Their waitress looked ready to combust as she took the tip from Harry, her grip lingering far longer than it was meant to.
“Come on Harry, let’s start eating. The ice cream isn’t going to wait for you.”
The waitress glared at him, and Draco simply raised an eyebrow back at her. She spun on her heel and walked away in a hurry, no doubt going to show her other co-workers her tip from the Great Harry Potter.
“Utterly barmy, I’m telling you.”
“Shut up and eat your ice cream, Harry.”
It was a beautiful day outside, and Potter had somehow convinced Draco to have an outdoor picnic with him.
Draco didn’t know how he was coerced into agreeing, although uncomfortable presence of Granger and the Weasel lingering behind Potter certainly prompted Draco to say anything to leave. And unfortunately, he had agreed.
Now, as Draco sat on the thick striped blanket, watching silently as Potter magically unloaded the gigantic wicker basket he had brought, he wondered if it was too late to refuse.
“I appreciate the sentiment Potter, but I don’t understand why you decided on a picnic,” Draco protested weakly, although his mouth slammed shut when he saw the assorted boxes of chocolate that flew out of the basket.
Potter grinned, and Draco scowled.
“Why not? I figured it would be fun.”
“A few days ago you were almost speechless at the idea of us courting. Now you’re preparing us an outdoor lunch?”
Potter shrugged nonchalantly. “Gryffindor, remember?”
“Ah yes, how could I forget.”
Potter snorted. “Anyways, I’ve already bribed you with the sweets, so you have to stay now.”
Draco couldn’t argue with that. As Potter started on a sandwich (which he devoured with a frightening speed) Draco decided to try out a tomato salad, which was actually quite nice.
“Mm, where did you get these from?”
He waited for Potter to scarf down the rest of his sandwich before answering. “The kitchens, of course.”
Draco nodded with a small smile. “Whoever knew the Savior was quite a charmer?”
For a moment, Draco could have sworn that Potter blushed, but it was gone in the flash of an eye. It was probably just the sun, anyways.
As he looked around the fields, Draco noticed a Beauxbatons student who was staring at him unabashedly. He recognized him instantly; Gregory Greengrass. Daphne’s cousin, and quite a well-off person. He was also quite handsome.
Draco thought he would look even nicer with black hair and green eyes. Wait, what?
“Have you tried the chocolates yet?” Thankfully, Potter cut him from his line of thought. Draco didn’t even want to know where it was headed to.
“Yes, they’re quite nice.”
Potter smiled fiercely with the rage of a thousand suns, and Draco felt his heart race faster than a broom.
“Excuse me, are you Draco Malfoy?”
Draco had been shelving some books he had read in the library when he heard an unfamiliar and heavily accented voice behind him. To his delight, there was a Durmstrang student who looked relatively wealthy.
“Yes, and you are?” He asked politely. The man bowed slightly in front of him.
“Aleksandar Stoyanov, but you may call me Aleksandar.”
Draco flashed his best (and flirtiest) smile at him. “Hello, Aleksandar. May I ask why you were looking for me?”
Aleksandar leaned slightly closer to him, making Draco bite back a smile. “Well, you see, I—”
“Draco! There you are!” Before Draco could react, Potter came up from Merlin knows where and suddenly threw a strong arm around his waist, before pulling him closer to him.
Draco stiffened indignantly. What did Potter think he was doing? First of all, they hadn’t progressed to waist holding yet (even though it had been over two weeks since they had started dating) and secondly, he was ruining an important chance for him!
“Ah yes, Harry Potter.” Aleksandar’s tone was clearly annoyed. “You are courting Draco, yes?”
“Yeah, I am,” Potter replied, his voice a bit fierce. Draco didn’t know what on earth he was upset about.
“Of course,” Aleksandar sneered, mockingly. Draco frowned.
“Don’t talk to him like that.” Aleksandar spluttered at Draco’s comment. He looked at the two of them as his face grew progressively redder and redder, before suddenly stalking away angrily, muttering under his breath.
Draco stepped out of Harry’s grasp and frowned at him. “What’s your problem?”
Harry just looked confused, and a bit guilty. “What do you mean?”
“You came out of nowhere when I was talking to him.”
“Well, he looked like a prick.”
“I think that’s for me to decide, not you.” Draco retorted, crossing his arms. Harry scowled back.
“Well, sorry you’re too obsessed with finding a ‘suitable match’ to not even be able to get your own head out of your arse to see that he’s a dick.”
“You don’t even know what this means to me, anyway! You’re just being arrogant and selfish like you always are.”
“Bloody rich coming from you, Malfoy.”
Draco felt his face heat up. He could hear Madame Pince hushing them, but he honestly didn’t care. “Fuck off, Potty. I don’t know why I thought this would ever work out.” He made sure to bump into Potter’s body as hard as he could as he stormed out.
“I’m going to end him.”
“Pansy, no.”
“Pansy, yes.”
“Blaise!”
The three Slytherins were all lying on Draco’s magically enlarged bed, two of which were hatching a heinous murder plot (and lying too close to each other), while the last one was sighing exasperatedly at them.
“For the last time, you guys, I don’t want you to murder him. And I especially don’t want you to end up in Azkaban because of me.”
“Well, Potter better back off then, or else we’ll—”
“Do nothing,” Draco deadpanned. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t want you guys to kill him. I’m just frustrated.”
“Frustrated about what, exactly?” Blaise asked, a bit kindlier than Pansy had.
“Well, Potter. And finding—”
“A suitable match,” they both cut in. The three of them looked at each other for a minute, before bursting out into laughter.
When it died down, Pansy spoke up again. “But really though, Dray, what’s wrong? Besides what you told us, we can tell there’s something else going on.”
Draco sighed. “I don’t know. I want to find a good partner and all, but…”
“But you’re starting to like Potter?”
Draco spluttered and felt his face heat up. “No! It’s just… something else. Not that.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Draco buried his face into his pillow and refused to look up. He felt Pansy and Blaise shift around for a while, before getting up and leaving him alone, but not before hugging him.
It numbed the pain a little.
Draco hadn’t talked to Harry in six days. He didn’t know why he was so upset about it. He had gotten the attention he had wanted, anyway, and there were several people who had expressed interest in him. The best of these was Gregory Greengrass, who had even gifted Draco a platinum neckband as a token of affection. Draco hated the way platinum looked on his skin, but he smiled and accepted it anyways. He didn’t think of that shared raspberry sundae or of the arms wrapped around his shoulders.
By the end of that week, Draco had resolved to forget all about Potter. He wouldn’t remember accidentally touching Potter’s hair and realizing how soft it was, nor would he remember the small bouquet of sunflowers that now sat in a vase near his bedside table.
He was reading in the library as usual when he felt something delicate land on his hand.
It was a small paper crane made from pink paper.
Was it from Gregory, Draco wondered? Or was yet another student wanting to court him, even though they didn’t have the messy black hair and green eyes that he wanted?
He unfolded it. There were only a few words scrawled onto it ‘Astronomy Tower, seven pm.’
Whoever had sent this was awfully bold, Draco would admit. But he was curious, so he decided to indulge them, anyways.
He spotted Potter out of the corner of his eye, hovering quietly around a bookshelf even though Draco knew that he wouldn’t be caught dead in the library if he had a choice. He scowled and folded the crane away. Who the hell did Potter think he was, anyway?
At five minutes before seven, Draco found himself going up to the astronomy tower with nothing but his hand and the unfolded crane. Each step he went up took him further and further away from Potter, and closer and closer to his hopeful match.
Well, at least that was what Draco thought. Because when he arrived at the astronomy tower, he forgot how to breathe.
“Harry?”
Draco was blown away. The astronomy tower was empty, save for a small table that had two chairs around it, and a bowl of raspberry sundae on it. And by the looks of it, it was from Madame Puddifoot’s. And Harry was standing right behind it, looking nervous but also confident in himself, somehow.
At Draco’s shocked look, Harry stopped fidgeting and approached him slowly.
“Potter, what is thi—”
“Look, er, Draco, I’m really sorry about what I said to you last week. I know I was being a prick and all, but I didn’t mean it like that.”
Draco bit his lip. “Why did you say it then?”
Potter smiled. “I think we both know the answer to that.”
Draco sniffed before he realized that he was actually tearing up. Salazar, Pansy and Blaise would never let him live it down if they found out.
“I’m a very expensive partner, you know. And you have absolutely no class, although I suppose it’s my responsibility to teach you then.”
Potter laughed. “Ron and ’Mione helped me set it up. They’re still shocked about it, but I imagine they’re going to be even more shocked now.”
“I’m sure Granger would have already predicted something like this happening,” Draco smiled, discreetly wiping his tears away. “But you have to make it up to me, Potter. I’m very hard to please, you know.”
Potter grinned and leaned forward ever so slightly, so Draco could see the faint laugh lines on his face, and the odd pattern of freckles, and his slightly crooked nose that endeared Draco for no absolute reason. When he didn’t protest, Harry closed the gap and left a small kiss on Draco’s mouth. It was very chaste and very quick, but to them it was everything.
“Bring it on, Malfoy. I can’t wait.”