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Harry slumped in his seat in the Great Hall unceremoniously beside Draco. The blond had to fight the urge to scold Potter on the ways the social norm allowed him to use his green tie and how the sorry, haphazard knot he was wearing around his neck was pointedly not it, but he held himself back.
Their friendship had been reluctant after he'd found that Hermione, ever the Ravenclaw, was a great study partner and she'd eventually given both him and Harry the ultimatum that she would hang around neither if they insisted on arguing at every turn. Once Draco had gotten somewhat past the muggleborn part, he'd decided Hermione was too good an academic rival to dismiss, and ignoring and even playing nice with Harry Potter was a price she was worthy of.
Draco sighed at the way Potter continued to slump, as if waiting for him to ask what he was moping about (Draco didn't know, of course, that it was far from Harry's intent and, despite actually moping, he had never intended to have Draco ask him about it, he simply had terrible posture). "What is it, Potter?" Harry turned to him with a raised eyebrow in question, "What are you moping about in my vicinity?"
The Slytherin seemed to hesitate for a moment before taking the Gryffindor's questioning as friendly, "Remember how Hermione high-key wanted Ron to ask her to the ball?"
Draco had been the one to point it out to Harry, "I thought Ronald got asked by Krum," he paused, making a face, "For whatever reason."
"Yeah, I don't know what went down in Hermione's head, but she just asked Fleur to the ball."
He felt a pitying expression grow on his face, "The Cham—Fleur Delacour?" Harry nodded, "Why would she do that, that's an offer to get rejected."
Harry stopped whatever he'd been about to say and stared at Draco for a moment, "Fleur said yes." He corrected.
It was Draco's turn to stare at Harry, "Why are you in whatever mood you're in right now, then? That's supposed to be a good thing." Draco informed him, scoffing.
"I'm upset about that, I'm happy for Hermione. I'm just trying to figure out what to do, since every one of my friends has a date except for me."
Draco raised an eyebrow, "Weren't you planning on asking the Ravenclaw seeker? You know, despite the fact that she already has a date."
Harry stared at him as if that was news, "Wait, so you mean you knew and you still let me go ahead and embarrass myself?!"
The Gryffindor had to hold himself back from saying 'Merlin, you're so fucking stupid', "Chang and Diggory have been an item for a year, they have a whole thing about how they're both seekers. Obviously, they were going together!"
"I didn't know that." Harry said, looking down in defeat. "Not like you care, I heard Lavender asked you weeks ago."
Draco's eyebrow remained raised, "Yeah, but I'm not going with her." He said, finally relaxing his face whilst he fought the disgust that threatened to show. When he looked at Harry he was staring in question. "Father said I shouldn't go with someone of her social standing. Ideally, I'd go with Pansy, but with her being a Slytherin, that complicates matters."
"You complicate matters," Harry stated. Draco was very acquainted with the fact that Harry didn't give a flying dung about House politics (or politics in general), but decided to not say anything. "Who are you going with then?" No answer, "Wow. So who even qualifies for your impossible standards?" The silence continued, he laughed. "You're gonna end up dateless."
Draco rolled his eyes, "Like you're one to talk, Potter."
Despite the fact that it was intended as an insult, Harry didn't seem to even process it as such. "At this rate, neither of us is gonna find a date." Harry commented thoughtfully, laughing. "At least if we end up dateless, we can go together." He joked.
"Yeah, right."
*
With a week left, no date, and a letter from his parents saying that not going, or going dateless, wasn't an option and that they could take a Gryffindor in their family but Draco could in no way disgrace their family by neglecting an event such as the Yule Ball.
In the face of this reality, Draco found himself waiting for Potter to arrive at the Great Hall for dinner. It wasn't ideal to lay down an agreement such as this surrounded by people, but he was certain he was at least safe from Potter causing a scene, based on the fact that doing so would be mutual destruction.
When Potter walked in and inevitably walked up to the Ravenclaw table, where Hermione and Ronald were already seated, Draco followed after a minute, sitting beside Harry. Harry, of course, didn't think anything of it, as that arrangement wasn't uncommon. "So I was thinking about your offer." Draco started casually.
It took Harry a few moments to process the fact that Malfoy was speaking to him, due to the sheer casualty of his tone. "What? What offer?"
"To go to the Yule Ball together if none of us managed to get a date."
Harry seemed to short-circuit at that, "That wasn't an offer, that was a joke."
Draco finally looked at him, square and into green eyes, "Do you have a date?" He questioned matter-of-factly.
Harry seemed to think twice about that before a tiny spark of panic and, following directly behind that, defeat shone in his eyes, "So we go together."
Draco smirked in victory, looking to the plate in front of him and starting to serve himself dinner. "So what are you wearing?"
Harry, catching onto the clue, started serving himself as well, "Robes."
"Well, I know that. I'm asking about—" he cut himself off, taking a deep breath. "You can show me after dinner."
*
Harry stared at Draco in annoyance as he was forced to let him into the Slytherin quarters after supper, "You're not even supposed to be here." He argued, despite the fact that they were halfway into the common room and to Harry's room.
"Just like you aren't supposed to crash at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff dorms, but you do anyway." Draco bit back a bit nonchalantly as Harry opened the door to his room and he followed inside. "I'm fairly sure the reason you haven't gotten in trouble for it yet is because Severus will take every minute he's not responsible for your arse."
Harry rolled his eyes behind crooked glasses as he bent down to open his trunk (Draco wondered why he hadn't made use of the closets and shelves, especially considering the fact that Harry had gotten a solo room, since there was an odd number of boys in the Slytherin dorm and neither Blaise nor Theodore wanted to room with him). "That is so sad for Severus. Truly." Harry mocked. "Also, have I ever mentioned how weird it is that you call Snape by his first name when he's not even your Head of House?"
Draco made a face, "He's my godfather, what were you expecting?"
Harry stared at him, "That makes a lot of sense, actually." He admitted, finally taking out his robes and placing them on the bed for Draco to see.
Draco examined the robes, "They're just normal robes?"
The Slytherin raised an eyebrow, "Were they not supposed to be?"
Draco felt his face heat up, but shook it off, "I thought you were going to wear traditional robes."
Harry quirked an eyebrow, "What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Because your family is Indian?"
The look Draco had gotten from Harry was one of indescribable confusion, "My family's Indian?"
"Did you..." He wasn't sure how to react, "Did you not know that?"
Harry shook his head, "No. The Dursleys always said I was an Arab." He clarified, looking not at all fazed by that.
Draco, however, stared unsurely at him,"I—" he stammered, "You should probably speak to Hermione about that later." He finally said, recomposing himself. "Anyway, the Yule Ball is the closest thing Hogwarts has to a gala, which means that, for a good part of the students, this is pretty much their coming out to society. Coming out to society is, contrary to what you might expect, not about presenting you to society, but showing society how you represent your family. Representing your family, in turn, means representing their values." He explained, "For many people, this means wearing something traditional, from your culture. The Patils are for sure going in traditional attire and, I believe, so is Sue Li."
"So what?" Harry shrugged, sitting on his bed beside the robes. "I can't do anything about that, it's not like I knew about any of that until a minute ago."
Draco spent a good minute watching Harry and analyzing him before saying, "Would you like to?"
"Use traditional clothes?" Draco nodded, "I mean, I never thought about that, obviously, but... I guess? It wouldn't hurt to try." Harry shrugged.
Draco sighed, pointing at Harry's robes. "Great, because that does not match my robes at all. My parents can take a Gryffindor Malfoy and having you as my date, but they cannot take us not matching."
Harry stared at him, unimpressed, "Oh, the travesty. Of course we wouldn't want to disgrace your family name like that."
Draco smiled in surprise, "So you get it?"
"Absolutely not."
He scoffed, "Of course not." Draco complained, staring at Harry's scratched glasses. "When was the last time you updated your prescription?" Harry raised an eyebrow in question, "For your glasses. You aren't going to wear those to the Ball."
"I don't get why I'd need an entirely new pair of glasses just for a stupid dance I'm being forced to go to."
"You don't have to get it, you just have to give me your prescription so I can tell mother to order you new ones."
Harry shrugged, "I don't know my prescription."
Draco probably shouldn't be doing the ridiculous amount of staring he was, but one Harry Potter made it difficult. "What do you mean—that's your basic medical information, how do you not know it?"
Harry seemed to close up at that, "I just don't, okay."
Draco wanted to push it, to grill stupid Potter on how important it was to know oneself. How basic, crucial information like that had been the downfall of many people and would be his own, if he wasn't careful. He couldn't. Not if he wanted to remain on friendly territory with Harry, because he looked about ready to start a fist fight if Draco did push the subject. "Okay," he said instead, "Fine. Doesn't matter anyway, we'll just get an appointment with an ophthalmologist." Harry no longer seemed to be as aggravated by the topic, but he remained silent. "I'll speak to my mother and I'll get back to you with a date for us to meet at Hogsmeade this week."
Harry sighed, "Sure, yeah, whatever. Just tell me when."
*
The first time Harry brought Hermione, Ron, and Neville down to the Slytherin common room and, later, his room (since he had a single room), back in their first year, he’d gotten dirty looks and a lecture of how the common room was supposed to be a secret location. Harry, in full and true Harry fashion, promptly told his Slytherin mates that he didn’t care. This debacle had repeated a few times over the years, until it had stopped back in third year.
Hermione, differently from Harry, didn’t have a single room, and, while the Ravenclaw common room wasn’t as loud as, say, the Gryffindor common room, it was always circulating with people. Because of this, sometimes, when Hermione didn’t feel like going to the library and Harry wasn’t doing anything else, the two of them went down to the dungeons to hang in Harry’s room. The Slytherin, at first, hadn’t known how to deal with it, but eventually grew accustomed to the comfortable silence and sometimes even took the time to do his own homework.
The day after Harry and Draco had settled their arrangement for the Yule Ball, he and Hermione walked into his room carrying a pile of books so that they could search for another clue of what to do for the second task in the Tournament.
Harry closed the door and put the books he was carrying in his bed, beside the ones Hermione had just placed there, looking through them for the one to start reading. Hermione, as she did so, lit up, “Oh, I just remembered, I saw Draco when I was coming down from Ravenclaw Tower and he told me to ask you if tomorrow afternoon works for you?” She cited, smiling in an amused manner, “Are you really going to the Yule Ball with him?”
Harry made a face. Sure, Malfoy had gotten much more tolerable since he decided to stop calling Hermione a mudblood and Ron a blood traitor, and he might even admit that sometimes Draco was fun to be around, but he was still not his choice of company. As far as he was concerned, this arrangement was purely for convenience reasons, and not for any sort of fondness or even affection he might hold for the annoying Gryffindor. “The Ball is in exactly one week, I don’t exactly have any other options to choose from.”
Hermione employed her ‘my friend is being daft’ look, “You know I don’t mean that.” She said in a way that was halfway to a reprimand, “How did the two of you even have the conversation?”
Harry sighed, “I joked about us going together since it looked like none of us would manage to get a date on time and Malfoy took it as an offer.”
She seemed to analyze his words for a second before relenting, “That definitely sounds like Draco.” Hermione admitted, “What are you two doing tomorrow?”
“He wants for our outfits to match,” Harry paused, “And for me to get new glasses, for some reason.”
Hermione’s face dawned into a look of understanding, “Would that have any relation to Draco requesting that I, in his words, properly scold you on being aware of your medical history?”
Harry violently rolled his eyes (Hermione thought, for a second, they’d roll onto the back of his head), taking a big gulp of air in what seemed to be a calming gesture, but she couldn’t be sure. Once he seemed to have regained some of his composure, he scoffed and went on to complain, “I don’t get why he’s so fixated on this prescription thing.”
Hermione wet her lips, wondering how to approach the topic and settling on just asking about it, since the Slytherin seemed to have calmed considerably after his… she wasn’t sure what to call it. “What — exactly — is the issue with that?”
He shrugged, “He asked me what my prescription is.” Harry explained, deciding to pick a book at random and sit on his bed. Hermione sent him a questioning look when he didn’t continue. He sighed when he met her gaze, “I don’t know my prescription.”
She nodded, “It’s a good thing you’re going to get it updated, then. When was the last time you had it updated? It sounds like it was a while ago.”
“Never,” Harry replied nonchalantly, opening the book in his hands and leafing through it.
Hermione stared, she was half sure she’d misunderstood it somehow, “You mean you had it done once and never updated it or…”
When her expectant silence dragged on, Harry was forced to look at her indignantly, “I had it done never.” He clarified, wanting it to be the end of the conversation, but seeing in his Ravenclaw friend’s face that she had a hundred or so questions in the tip of her tongue. “When I was in first grade, the teacher noticed I couldn’t see a pair of bollocks in front of my face, let alone the black board. Aunt Petunia didn’t want to spend that kind of money on me, so she found a donation bin and that’s what I got.”
Hermione nodded in understanding, looking down before seating beside him on the bed. “I’m guessing you weren’t about to tell Draco about that, date to the Ball or not.”
“Draco can lick the soles of my shoes.”
Hermione, without hesitating, said, “You are small and filled with rage.”
*
Narcissa Malfoy was everything Harry had expected, yet not it at all. He lowkey had expected her to be a combination of Draco and Lucius but as a woman. She, of course, was not.
Narcissa was much quieter than Draco, observing the two fourteen year olds and offering commentary when it was needed. Were it not for the fact that she was subtly judging everything they did and said, Harry could even find her a pleasant person to be around, but he wasn’t about to jinx it by actually saying it out loud.
When they got to the ophthalmologist and the lady asked him what his prescription was, he answered the same he did for Draco (who had been ordered to wait outside). The lady looked at him with confusion, “It’s a long story.” He answered, getting a quiet nod from her as she started the basic routine tests he'd seen on television before.
After they were done, the mediwitch sat at her desk writing down something (the prescription, he guessed). "When did you get your glasses?"
"A few years ago," he stopped to count, "I think six or seven years ago."
Her face was a mix between shocked and impressed, "Do you get a lot of headaches?"
With the mix between having a scar that hurt whenever Voldemort was around (which was, inconveniently, too often), him being thrown around by dark wizards (and his uncle) way too often, and playing quadball, it seemed like a silly question to him. "You could say so, yes."
The witch laughed, “No wonder, those glasses have outlived their adequateness for you years ago, I’d wager.”
He couldn’t exactly mention that it had never been adequate to begin with, so Harry just laughed awkwardly and nodded as she gave them the prescription and instructed Harry on which circumstances he should look to update it.
Narcissa quietly took the prescription paper and she and Harry exited the office to find Draco sitting outside the office in the same set of chairs they’d left him near. The Gryffindor raised an eyebrow in question, “So? What’s the verdict?”
Narcissa looked to Harry, expecting his answer despite the fact that she held it in her hands and could divulge at any moment. He’d wonder if that was her respecting his privacy, but he couldn’t know for sure either way, since he never had that happen to him before. Harry shrugged and deadpanned, “I haven't managed to find the cure to visual disability since I first got the glasses, so that’s a bummer.”
Draco rolled his eyes, "Haha, real funny.”
“Almost as funny as Moody turning you into a ferret.” Harry answered, though he hadn’t actually found the situation funny when it happened, thus was using it mostly to rile his friend-ally-rival up.
Narcissa’s face remained neutral except for a tiny, ghost of a raise in her left eyebrow, “Did he?” Harry got the impression she was plotting Alastor Moody’s murder and didn’t have any intention of getting caught.
Harry looked at her and nodded, “He thought we were fighting.” He explained quietly, knowing his answer could call her attention away from her son and onto him.
Draco looked down after a moment too long under scrutiny, “I told father about it.”
Harry watched the slight lean of her head as she accepted her son’s explanation as to why she hadn’t heard about the fact and the only thing he could think to say was, “I honestly don’t know why you keep saying you’ll tell your father about things as a threat when your mother is clearly the scarier one.” He said calmly as the words came to him. Taking a deep breath as Narcissa turned to him with a calculating look, he added, “I mean that with all due respect, ma’am.”
She stared at him for a few more seconds before something resembling content seemed to show on her face. “Well, at least he’s not completely daft.” Narcissa gave, before starting to walk out of the office building, wordlessly expecting the two teens to follow her. Draco and Harry shared a brief look, one carrying relief and the other shock, and then they followed her on the way out.
*
Despite a few setbacks, with the robes taking a day longer than expected to get ready and the tailor's owl getting lost, Draco had received the package with the robes and glasses on the morning of the Ball. After lunch, he had been able to hand them to Harry along with a note from Narcissa that explained how to use them.
Harry was making his way to the Slytherin when he passed by Ron, probably going to the Hufflepuff common room or to lunch after leaving the Durmstrang boat. Ron greeted him, asking about the package, "Oh, they're robes." Harry explained shortly, "And new glasses."
Ron arched his eyebrows and grinned, "Well, show them."
The thought hadn't even crossed Harry's mind, he felt a little silly for it. He didn't let the feeling wander for too long, reaching into the pack with a grin making its way on his face as Ron reached and took off his glasses for him before he put on the new ones. " Woah ," he said as he looked around.
Ron, amused and a little confused by his reaction, said, "What is it, mate?"
Harry stared at Ron's face wide eyed, "You have freckles." He stated, "I didn't know you had freckles ."
Ron shrieked a laugh, trying to control himself but failing to. “ You didn’t know?! ” It earned him a playful punch from Harry's part, but he thought it was worth it. "At least you're not in danger of stepping on anyone's foot anymore." He finally said.
"I was never in danger of stepping on anyone's foot. Not anymore than you, anyway." Harry chuckled, "Besides, we had dancing classes."
"Sprout gave you guys classes too?"
Harry grinned, "Professor Sprout gave you guys dancing classes?" Ron nodded. Harry laughed just thinking of his own answer, "She wasn't the one who gave us dancing classes."
"Who was it, then?"
"Snape." Harry popped his lips as he said the name, Ron stared at him in disbelief, "I think each Head of House had to give classes, I heard McGonagall gave the Gryffindors classes as well." Harry explained, "How was Sprout's class?"
Ron shrugged, "It was okay. She was all cheerful when she showed us what we were supposed to do, and then she made us separate into pairs to practice with the prefects 'correcting' us." He rolled his eyes, giving Harry his old glasses back so he could put them away. “What about Snape?”
Harry smirked, “He made Cassius demonstrate as he narrated.” He told with a pause for the drama to sink in, “Cassius had to switch partners twice because Snape was commentating on their form until Pansy got annoyed and stepped in. The comments were absolutely hysterical too. ‘ Could someone else care to step in, since Miss Derrick seems to have woken up with two left feet? ’, and ‘ You call that a waltz? ’ were among the comments.” Harry said, attempting his best Snape impression, paused speech and scowl, the whole gimmick.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Ron said through a laugh, “But when it’s not directed at us, Snape is pretty hilarious.”
“Yeah, but it is usually directed at us.”
“You’d think he’d be a little nicer at you for being a Slytherin.”
“Oh, he is.” Harry said, nodding along vaguely, “I’m pretty sure he would’ve found a way to expel me if I wasn’t in Slytherin. He still clearly dislikes me more than the rest of the Slytherins, though.”
After that, the two agreed to meet in front of the entrance to Hufflepuff dormitory before the Ball and went their separate ways. Harry headed toward the Slytherin common rooms, as he’d intended, looking around at all the little details he’d missed around the castle.
By the time he reached his room and set the package down, there was about one hour and a half left before the Ball. Harry grabbed everything he needed and went to the showers, which, he noted, had more people circulating than on a Quadball game day.
When Harry returned to his room to get dressed, he put his new glasses back on and took out the note on top of the package to find out what he was supposed to do. It took him a hot minute to figure out how he was supposed to fit into the bronze dhoti pants, even with the note explaining, but after he managed to wrap the dhoti around his waist, the rest was smooth sailing. On top of the dhoti, he wore a dark brown asymmetrical sherwani that went down to his knees and a golden, silk angavastram wrapped around his shoulder.
Harry stared at his hair in the mirror, even wet, he could see the loose ringlets forming. While his hair wasn’t as curly as Hermione’s, that didn’t mean he knew how to take care of it. All he knew was letting it air dry would just make it remain as unruly as ever, but brushing it out would make it much, much worse. He was aware some people sprayed things on their hair to make it better, but he had no idea what those products were, nor did he have them at the moment, so Draco would have to endure his air dried hair.
(He still spent fifteen minutes in front of the mirror, rearranging the locks so they’d at least look like he’d meant for his hair to look like that.)
something
Harry stopped in front of the painting that led to the kitchens and the Hufflepuff common room, debating over whether he should head inside or wait outside. Soon, he didn’t have to ponder any more, as the painting opened to reveal (it took him a moment to realize who it was, strangely, since he was more used to seeing the person’s blurry face) Neville. He was startled to see Harry on the other side, but greeted him nonetheless. “Is Ron in there?” Harry asked.
Neville nodded, “I think he was finished getting ready. I can go call him, if you want…”
“No, it’s fine, Neville.” Harry said, stopping Neville from going back inside. “I’ll just wait if he’s about to come out. No need to risk getting soaked in vinegar.”
Neville gave him an understanding nod, “Are you and Ron going together?” Harry looked at him questioningly, “I heard none of you had gotten a date, and you’re waiting for him, so I assumed… but I shouldn’t have assumed, should I?”
Harry smiled reassuringly, “It’s fine, that actually sounds like something we would do. Both of us have other dates, though. We just agreed to meet here, since the Hufflepuff common room is in the middle of the way to the Great Hall for me.”
Neville nodded once again, “Well, you look nice. Is that traditional from Tamil Nadu?”
“Thanks, Neville, so do you.” Neville seemed surprised by that, “And I think so?”
“You think so?”
Harry shrugged, “Yeah, I kind of didn’t really know my dad’s family was from Tamil, or India, before a week ago, when I had a pureblood explain it to me.” Was he annoyed that he didn’t know the first thing about his heritage? Yes. A lot. “How did you know, by the way?”
Neville squirmed, “My gran tells me about all the notable witch families,” he explained awkwardly, “And you’re Harry Potter , so she told me about your family.”
“Why does it seem like everyone knows things about me I don’t even know about myself?” Neville opened his mouth to speak as the painting started opening up again, “You know, don’t answer that.” Harry told Neville as Ron emerged, looking surprised to see him there already.
Where Ron would originally be wearing the hand-me-down robes, Harry had given him the robes he wouldn’t be using anymore and they spelled it to be the right size for Ron. He seemed to realize Harry’s robes were different from his. “Now I know why you didn’t need your robes anymore!” Ron exclaimed, moving to stand beside Harry and put his arm around him. “When did you decide to go traditional?”
Harry chuckled at his best friend’s reaction, “I was convinced.” Ron stared at him in question, expectantly, “My date convinced me, wanted to match robes.”
Ron’s face lit up, "Hey, who did you end up asking, mate?"
At that moment, Harry realized he never actually mentioned the fact. While Ron didn’t argue with Draco as often as Harry did, he felt every bit more antagonistic towards the pureblood, if not more. “You’re not gonna like it.”
“What? It’s not like you’re going with Malfoy,” Ron exclaimed, laughing. Harry pursed his lips, furrowing his brow. Ron’s smile dropped, “You’re going with sodding Malfoy?!”
“It’s not a big deal, Ron.”
He looked scandalized, “You’re confraternizing with the enemy! It’s a massive deal, Harry.”
Harry rolled his eyes at the Hufflepuff’s sheer level of drama, “Your date is Viktor Krum. The Champion of the magic school Hogwarts is actually competing against. Are you really gonna tell me about ‘confraternizing with the enemy’?”
Neville excused himself and left before he could get involved in the argument and Ron sighed, “I don’t get why you’re going with Malfoy, of all people.”
Harry made a face, “Look, we were both dateless and there was only a week left for the Ball.” Ron stared at him wordlessly, as if asking ‘ how did that even happen? ’. “I made a joke about how we could go together if none of us got a pair, but then none of us did. When he came over and said we should do it, I mean, I couldn’t really argue!”
Ron scoffed, “Why didn’t you just go with Hermione? She’s dateless.”
Harry really didn’t want to step close to that conflict, “Not really.”
“Of course she is!” Ron said, leading Harry to the direction of the Great Hall. “Why else would she not tell us who she’s going with?”
Harry shrugged, “She told me .” He looked around at the walls of the castle, avoiding his friend’s gaze. “You should talk to her about this later, I really don’t want to be a part of the argument you’re having with her.”
“Fine, I’ll let it go.” Ron rolled his eyes, “Only because I gotta get on your case about Malfoy.” He said, proceeding to make fun of the Slytherin’s choice of date until they reached the entrance to the Great Hall. Krum was there, waiting for Ron and smiling as they met their gaze. The two then went on to being disgustingly in love, which Harry decided to file away for posterity.
Soon enough, Hermione and Fleur showed up together, causing many heads to turn their way and just as many mouths to gape in astonishment. “‘Mione, did my old glasses prevent me from seeing how good looking you are or is that a today thing?”
“‘Ermione ‘as always looked perfect,” Fleur answered, “Today, she simply decided to enhance ‘er beauty.”
Hermione giggled in response, blushing. “You look nice too, Harry.”
Despite being famous, Harry still didn’t know how to react to compliments. Thankfully, he’d been saved by Cedric and Cho arriving, both looking as stunning as ever. After a minute or so of small talk, Harry looked to the corridor to see Draco arriving, looking every bit the pureblood he’d always been in a knee length, navy blue cutaway coat with matching trousers; a white, collared shirt; and a basic, silver, silk vest that matched his silver necktie.
“Potter.” Draco greeted, seemingly aware of the way Harry examined his outfit and enjoying it.
Harry had never been the best under pressure, social pressure. Sure, defeating Voldemort once a year might seem daunting to most, but it was routine to him and not that big a deal. So, of course, a Ball had to be what took him out. “You look nice, if you never open your mouth, you could pass as something other than a bloody prat.”
Draco smacked him upside the head, “How you’ve managed to survive this long without being murdered is a wonder to me.”
“The line of people wondering the same thing is so huge it might be big enough to climb over your massive ego.” Harry said without thinking. Like a moron.
“I’m sure it’s not as big as the amount of stupidity in your body, Potter.” Draco said, looking around nonchalantly, as if that was your typical Tuesday morning conversation (which it was).
“At least it’s smaller than the amount of hair gel in your head.” Harry bit back, “Seriously, doesn’t it weigh on your head?”
Draco was about to open his mouth to answer when McGonagall surged from inside the Great Hall, her gaze immediately locking in on Harry, “Oh, great, you’re all here.” She commented, as she walked toward the sole Slytherin in the group, “Where’s your date, Mister Potter?” Minerva asked, looking around at the other students that were walking inside the Hall.
Harry made a face and pointed toward Draco loosely, “Malfoy’s my date.”
McGonagall stared at them as if she was about to shout ‘are you fucking kidding me’. Instead, she looked up at the ceiling and said, “Oh, Merlin, save us all.” She muttered, looking back at the two. “Well, get into position for the first dance.”
“We have to dance ?” Harry asked.
Draco scoffed, “Of course we have to dance, what kind of question is that? The Champions open the bloody Yule Ball.”
“Language, Mister Malfoy.” Minerva scolded, though she seemed to mirror the sentiment. She turned to Harry, “Did Professor Snape not tell you?”
“Snape doesn’t even teach.” McGonagall sent him a reprimanding look, “No, he didn’t tell me.”
The professor sighed, “Well, now you know.” She said, gesturing for them to get in line behind Ron and Krum and walking inside the Great Hall again.
"I'll lead."
Harry looked at Draco to see he was extending his arm, "What?"
The Gryffindor rolled his eyes, "I said I'm leading. Take my arm."
Harry raised an eyebrow, "Aren't I supposed to lead? You know, because I'm the actual Champion?"
Draco was unimpressed, "Oh, I'm sorry, did I happen to forget the years you've spent learning ballroom dancing that could certainly rival my own?" He was right, of course, but Harry also thought he had no business being that sassy. "Didn't think so either."
Harry rolled his eyes and placed his arm on top of Draco's, "I don't get why we have to do this in the first place."
"I know you don't." He said, with no intent to explain to Harry. Draco faced forward, "When we walk in and the music starts, you're going to hold one of my hands and you'll place the other on the side of my shoulder." Draco explained in a whisper. Harry looked at him, clearly still processing the information, "Just follow my lead, Potter."
"Fine." Harry gave in, though it sounded more like a complaint.
When the line with the Champions started moving, both faced forward, walking inside and getting into position. Harry got into position, but jumped when Draco took his waist, getting a look of consternation from him.
The dance went more or less okay, with Harry only stepping on Draco's shoes three times, despite the Gryffindor not allowing him to look down at his own feet. When it was over and another one was starting, Harry went to let go of Draco, but the blond held on. "What?" Harry whispered through grit teeth.
Draco scoffed, "We can't just do one dance, what do you think this is?"
"A free country, I thought."
Draco rolled his eyes at the comment, looking down at Harry. "We have to do at least three now and more later, otherwise we look like we just came together as a last resort."
"We did come together as a last resort, though."
"Yeah, but people don't have to know that!" Harry stared at him, unimpressed and clearly waiting for another reason to present itself. Draco huffed, "I'll help you with your potions homework."
Harry raised an eyebrow, but seemed to consider the offer. He lowered the eyebrow, "One week of homework per dance."
The face Draco shot him made it look like Harry was asking for his firstborn. "You never act like a Slytherin, so why must you only do it when it's inconvenient to me?"
He laughed, "Because it inconveniences you." Harry said, in peak Slytherin fashion. "Deal?"
Draco huffed, "You're so lucky I need this."
"You're just as lucky that Snape hates me." Harry grinned, letting Draco lead him through the dance.
Draco made a face, "Why does Severus hate you, anyway?"
Harry shrugged, "I think he disliked my father?"
"That's got nothing to do with you."
"That's never stopped anyone from anything ever." Harry stated, "All I know is that, on the first day of classes, I was just taking notes and Snape decided I wasn't paying attention."
Draco's face softened, "You were taking notes?" He'd always assumed Harry hadn't been paying attention, since that was what Severus had accused him of. But Harry had also been sitting on the back, out of his sight.
Harry shrugged in response, “Does it really matter, at this point? Snape’s never had a problem with bullying kids, so I don’t think knowing that would do anything.” What shocked Draco was how absentmindedly Harry spoke about it, as if it wasn’t even the first time a teacher had been awful to him. “You know, I’m shocked your parents are so cool with this.” Harry changed the subject, looking up at the Gryffindor.
Draco gave a minute shrugged, “Father probably freaked out about it, but I’m certain mother told him to knock it off.” He explained, spinning Harry and then going back to their previous position. “Hey,” he called, “I just realized, you’re not squinting at me.”
Harry huffed and laughed, “Well, I can actually see you, so there’s no need for me to squint.”
Draco stared, nearly stepping on Harry’s foot in his shock. “You mean to tell me this entire time, when I thought you were glaring daggers at me and just… trying to murder me with a look, you were actually trying to see my face?”
“Look, my prescription was in desperate need of updating.” He put the hand that rested on Draco’s shoulder on the side of his glasses and then put his hand back in place. “Have you seen how thick these are, comparing them to my old ones? I’m pretty sure these are thicker than Myrtle’s.”
“Who’s Myrtle?”
“Moaning Myrtle? The ghost that haunts the girls’ bathroom?” Harry clarified, “Anyway, I can actually tell people’s noses from their cheeks now.”
Draco smirked, “You like what you see?”
The flirt took a moment to sink in, but, when it did, Harry sputtered in an undignified way as his face darkened into a blush. “N—Well, I mean…" He'd never questioned it before, because he never had a reason to, but the fact that he wanted to say 'yes' got him to pause in his tracks. Crap, he needed another response tactic. "You're good looking. So what? We're not ten."
Draco chuckled smugly, "You're right. So you can tell me whether or not you like what you see?"
It was the bottom of the pit to get outsmarted by a pasty-ass, inbred Gryffindor, Harry thought. He still needed a proper response, though. "Well," he bit, though he could hear how strangled he sounded, "Yes." Harry admitted, "Your turn."
Draco raised an eyebrow, but he was still smiling, "You're pretty handsome. Though, I bet you don't need to be told that, with most of the school swooning at your feet."
Harry laughed in disbelief, "Is that what you think?" Draco nodded, "The school goes from hating to worshiping me every five minutes, it seems. Not really enough time to get anyone to like me."
Draco laughed, “I’m sure you could, if you were fast enough.”
*
When Draco decided he was done having Harry hostage on the dance floor (Harry’s thoughts — not the author’s — despite actually enjoying the time there), he accompanied him to the punch table, saying it was polite to do so. Harry only half believed Draco, but he also fully believed he was straight, so his beliefs weren't the most reliable.
On their way there, they passed by Snape. Him being Draco's godfather, Draco felt the obligation to drag Harry to say hello to him (also partly because he wanted to fuck with both). To which Snape simply sneered and said, "You're the bane of my existence."
Both Harry and Draco were to which Snape had directed the comment toward, as the man had left shortly after.
When Draco had finally left to speak to his friends, stating he would retrieve Harry again later to have another dance, Harry headed straight for Hermione.
To his luck, she was alone. She didn't have any negative emotion showing on her face, so he assumed Fleur had gone to the restroom or was talking to someone else at the moment. "I need an opinion," Harry said as he sat down after greeting her. She gave him a nod of acknowledgement, turning to face him fully. "Do you think I like guys?"
Hermione stared at him, "How the bloody hell am I supposed to know that?”
Harry shrugged, “It seems like something you would know.”
“Because I’m pansexual and supposedly have a gaydar?” Hermione asked. He nodded, though he didn’t seem sure. “Harry, gaydars aren’t a real thing. Sure, there are some behaviors that can be more easily detected by people who have the same tendencies because they come from a unique type of social experience, but no one can actually detect if you’re queer.”
“Okay, but, in your experience, what do you think?”
Hermione rolled her eyes at his expectant look as it didn’t subside. “These boys, honestly…” she mumbled to herself, sighing. “I think,” she sighed again as Harry nodded encouragingly, “I think that whatever it is you and Draco have got going on is the single most confusing, queer coded, homoerotic thing I have ever seen and it’s a wonder the two of you haven’t hit it off yet.”
She didn’t know if she wanted to slap herself or him at the confusion that grew on his expression. “Hit it off? Like what? Slap each other?”
“ Slap each other —oh, Merlin.” She buried her face in her hands.
“What?” He asked.
Hermioned lifted a hand in a stop sign as she got up from her seat, “You are absolutely helpless.”
Harry stared at her like a puppy, dizzy after chasing its own tail. “What? What did I say?”
She stopped herself, sighing as she centered herself. “Ask Ronald.”
Hermione walked away, leaving Harry to stare at her until Draco came back to collect him (which honestly did not help his conundrum).
Ron would have fun helping him with that.