Moments

11. Valentine's Ball

(997 words)

Harry was stressing. Why did McGonagall do this to him? Not only did he have to go through the ordeal of dancing but she wanted him to give a speech too.

The day had been bad enough as it was. He hated Valentine's Day. Witch Weekly had done a 'Special' on him and he'd been inundated by Owls, much to Valpus's disgust, all loaded with cards, teddy bears and chocolate boxes.

Still, the year eights had a good laugh at his expense by opening and stringing up the cards and bears like bunting across the common room.

He buttoned his new shirt and tucked it into his leather trousers (because he was feeling rebellious against the whole farce) and pulled on his waistcoat and dress-coat. Thankfully, Malfoy had agreed to boots because he couldn't stand formal Oxfords. He left his bowtie for the moment because it needed tying properly and he didn't know how to do it.

The speech began to dominate his thoughts again. He started pacing.

'Potter, I can hear you stomping around down the bloody corridor.'

'Malfoy,' he replied, somewhat relieved. 'I need you to do my tie.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at his leather trousers before he walked over and pinched Harry's chin as to draw his head up. His fingers deftly worked at his neck, occasionally brushing against his skin until he stepped away.

'Done,' Malfoy said. 'You look very... er, dashing.'

'Thanks. You too,' Harry said, unsure how you complimented another man without it sounding gay.

Whereas Ron, who'd just appeared at his doorway...

'Wow,' Harry laughed.

'Fuck off.'

'They're better than the ones you wore to the Yule Ball.'

'They don't smell of mothballs either, but they're a bit bloody traditional, especially compared to yours.'

'Why are you wearing out your floorboards, Potter?' Malfoy asked, leaning against Harry's desk while Ron threw himself on the bed.

'This bloody speech!'

'Blimey, it's fine, mate. You've been over it thirty-billion times.' Ron waved a small hipflask at Harry. 'For the nerves.'

'Not a fucking chance!' Malfoy snatched it out of Ron's hand.

'Hey!' Ron exclaimed.

'Afterwards, fine, but not before, you can't be giving a speech half-cut, everyone'll know.'

'I was only offering a snifter,' Ron muttered.

'Out!' demanded Malfoy.

Harry watched the exchange with raised eyebrows. Ron slunk off, muttering about bloody Slytherins monopolising his bestfriend.

Malfoy unscrewed the cap and took a small sip. He grimaced, 'cheap shite anyway.' He tucked the hipflask away in his pocket.

It caused quite a stir when Harry walked into the Great Hall with Malfoy. He could tell Malfoy was preening and that amused him. All the fucking bullies could take that and shove it up their arses. He thought McGonagall looked like the kneazle that'd got the cream, which was maybe a bit of an overreaction to his choice of partner but he wasn't interested in her opinion.

Harry had realised pretty quickly that he'd inadvertently asked Malfoy to partner him for the Ball rather than the first dance; however, he found he didn't mind. To be going with his friend, rather than worrying about girls and dates and stuff, took an immense amount of stress out of the whole palaver.

The first dance went surprisingly well, Malfoy gracefully lead him around the dance floor and they avoided sprawling across the floor in front of everyone. He had, very purposefully, ignored the fact that he'd pulled Malfoy down on top of him during their practice lesson. At the time, his heart had thumped quite worryingly but he put it down to the shock of falling and smacking his head.

The speech went alright too. Lots about forgiveness and house unity and inclusion and rebuilding the community. He tried not to lecture but with both Mione and Malfoy advising him, the odd Hermione-ism slipped in between some of the more humorous bits that Ron thought he should include.

Eventually, he was able to relax a bit and found himself dancing with Malfoy again.

He wasn't actually sure if Malfoy was openly gay, but he wasn't bothered either way. He supposed he had made things easier for Malfoy too, people weren't exactly lining up to date him, though Harry really didn't want to think too much about Malfoy going on dates, for some reason it caused a little knot of protectiveness in his chest. They'd never really talked about that side of things, though, for a while, Malfoy had obviously assumed that Harry was still with Ginny; he had quickly put him straight. Harry realised, with a pang of guilt, he rarely spoke to her these days.

'Merlin, I need that drink now!' he muttered.

'Not in here, you're not. There're first years avidly watching your every move. It certainly wouldn't do for their hero to appear an alcoholic.'

'Fuck off, Malfoy!' he said. 'Walk, then. In the courtyard.'

'Oh, how romantic, Potter!' Malfoy teased.

'Would you prefer if I took you up the back passage?' he ribbed in return.

Malfoy spluttered and went bright red and Harry laughed.

'Come on then.'

They sat on a low wall that edged the grass, lounging against two pillars with their shins knocking together, passing the hipflask between them.

'This really is cat's piss, isn't it?' Harry remarked.

'Foul...' Malfoy agreed.

'Still, overall, tonight's been better than the Yule Ball.'

'Can't argue there.'

Harry was surprised. 'I thought you were in your element.'

'Ha!' Malfoy sneered. 'No, Pans was trying to seduce me and I was jealous of you.'

'Jealous?'

'Centre of attention, again.'

'You know I hate it, right?'

'I do now, but back then...' he shrugged.

A comfortable silence fell between them.

'Suppose we'd better get back,' Harry said as he offered the last bit of Firewhiskey to Malfoy.

'Sure,' Malfoy said. 'Parvati's hankering after a dance with you,' he mocked.

'It's worse than the fucking battle,' Harry grimaced.

'Seamus has more Firewhiskey,' Malfoy coaxed.

'Seamus is about to be mugged,' and Harry heaved himself up.

*****