𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓 2008

Negotiations

Author: tweetiescueetie
Pairing(s): Draco/Harry; Harry/OFC (past); Ron/Hermione; others
Rating: PG-15-ish
Summary: Harry Potter always had two left feet and when the Conference of Ministries is held at Hogwarts, he finds himself unable to escape the dancing. To his horror, the only one who can teach him is Draco Malfoy, the resident Potions Master.
Warnings: Humour; snark; a tiny bit of angst; scheming Headmistresses; (hopefully not too irritating) OCs; fake accents of all kinds; and what the cat is doing there I have yet to figure out.
Word count: ~46 000

Someone was banging on his door.

Draco Malfoy swore colorfully and dragged himself out of bed, casting a quick 'Tempus' for the time. He glared at it with bleary eyes before grabbing his dressing gown and stumbling to the door.

"Potter," he greeted the idiot. "It's five-forty-five in the fucking morning. What the fuck do you want?"

The Boy Who Lived grinned drunkenly at him. "Hi, Malfoy!"

So help him Merlin, sweet Magana or even Snape, Potter was drunk. Draco rolled his bloodshot eyes skywards - well, considering that he was in the dungeons, castle-wards - and closed the door again.

He was only a few steps back to his warm and waiting bed before the infernal racket began anew. "Malfoy!" Potter screeched loudly and Draco stopped in his tracks as the door rattled on its hinges. "I know you're there! Let me in!"

Draco shook his head and turned around. He was not going to deal with Potter at this Godforsaken time in the morning, or ever, if he could help it. "I don't know why the fuck you're here, Potter, but go back to your own fucking bed and let me sleep!"

"I can't sleep now!" Potter yelled through the thick wood. "Let me in, Malfoy!"

"Give me one good reason," Draco muttered, "Just one, and I swear I'll hex you into next week, you stupid, four-eyed git!"

He crossed the distance to the door again and pulled it open just as Potter tried to pound on it again, causing the other man to fall down on the floor, sprawling all over it in ways that made Draco's blood pound just a little faster as he longed for reprising his actions of sixth year and stomp on Potter's nose. This time there would be no cousin Nymphadora waiting to save the glorious Saviour.

Potter gazed up at him through smudgy lenses, his eyes unfocused. There was a goofy smile on his face as he finally managed to focus on something beyond his nose.

"You've got a red robe," the idiot said.

"I happen to like red," Draco snapped back and glared at Potter, whose rumpled appearance was a sore sight on his pristine stones. Then he shivered and crossed his arms over his chest, reminding himself yet again that going to sleep without casting the heating charms on the cold floor was a bad thing.

Potter continued to gaze up at him, goofy smile firmly in place. "I always thought you'd be dressed in green. And silver," he added thoughtfully.

"Is there a point to this visit?"

"She left me," Potter mumbled suddenly, changing so quickly from a happy drunk to a sappy one that Draco had to blink.