Chapter Text
During the last few days of term, Harry had received a letter from Sirius. Since the parents were invited —Harry understood the Ball was some sort of graduation-congratulation party thing— and Harry was, well, an orphan, Sirius as his Godfather had received an invite instead. Sirius didn't get along with the Malfoys at all and was aware that Voldemort himself was going to be present. Sirius who didn't like his Cousin Narcissa nor was he willing to trust her.
And he was still asking if Harry wanted him to go.
(Honestly, Harry could cry.)
He had pondered it for a bit —not too long since Sirius needed to write back as well— and decided that yes, it was going to be a mess, but he wanted Sirius at a party that doubled as a graduation celebration.
(Harry didn't want to be the only one without someone present, just like back before the third task of the tournament, when the Weasleys had shown up for him.)
So, he knew Sirius was going to be right there, in the middle of a Ballroom he didn't want to be in, around people he didn't like, just for him. And Harry hadn't told him about his crush on the oldest Malfoy. Yet. He hadn't told Sirius yet. He would. Just not yet. It was going to be very awkward. Remus was coming too, but Harry had- Well, he didn't really have a connection with him, other than being friendly. Remus was just Sirius'... friend? Harry was leaving it at friends. Maybe, if Sirius decided to clear up that relationship, Harry would come out to him.
Anyway, it just hit him while he was getting dressed in the bathroom of the Burrow-
(He was never putting a foot in Privet Drive again, the plan was to look through the Potter's many properties, or the land they owned, make sure it was ready to be used, he'd build a house if he f*cking had to, and move there, but never Privet Drive, he hadn't even said goodbye, but he knew his relatives were happy with that.)
-that he had no idea how he'd deal with that situation while keeping everyone involved alive.
There was no way to tell what would happen, so he tried to push it out of his mind for the time being. He met Ron and Hermione downstairs. Ron hadn't changed his mind about going, so he knew Hermione had sent letters back and forth with a few people in their year so she wouldn't be alone. Harry had almost been offended, but she had just arched her eyebrows, pointing at the half-written letter he had been working on, and Harry had firmly shut his mouth.
She had a point. Harry wasn't even planning on spending the whole time with Sirius, and Sirius didn't plan on staying the whole night unless he casually happened to find someone he liked there and got distracted.
Hermione wore a beautiful floor-length, long sleeved gold dress with a squared collar, embroidered flowers and small, pearly jewels shining from the floor up to her waist. She was taller, so Harry figured she had finally found a pair of shoes she liked. Hermione absolutely hated high heels, but a bit of heel didn't put her off as long as she could run on them. Her hair was held up in a braided bun which must have taken hours to style, gold ribbons and thin chains braided into it, a light make-up on her eyes making her eyes stand out.
"You look great, Hermione."
"I feel great. Thank you so much for this, even if I still think you went overboard."
"A certain white peaco*ck infected me with his bad spending habits," Harry said, smirking. "I will not apologise, seeing the result. I should do it more often."
"Harry, no," Hermione and Ron intoned at the same time.
Harry, yes, he thought to himself, patting himself on the back mentally.
Harry let Hermione floo to Malfoy Manor first, then followed her after Ron's playful reminder not to drink too much. It wasn't Harry's fault he was a lightweight. Ron was just a closeted mother-hen.
There were many people in the hall where they landed, some talking quietly or just arriving. At the door, a very sour-looking Draco was greeting anyone, alone or in groups, who went out of the room.
"Think he didn't want to take part in the Ball?"
"I think he doesn't want to be the host." Hermione smirked. "Do you think he'll be forced to be polite to me if I go up to him?"
"Only one way to know." Harry smirked back.
Making sure there was no ash in their clothes or skin, they made their way to the door, where Malfoy's face just soured more.
"Potter, Granger."
"Malfoy." They chorused.
Malfoy, predictable, had to grit his teeth instead of spitting out any insults or taunts. It was glorious. Instead, Malfoy spoke with a forced monotone, polite voice that made Harry cackle internally.
"You can only go into this wing of the Manor, for security purposes. If you try to go somewhere else, a House Elf will stop you and if you try to force your way in, you'll be expelled from the Manor."
"Understood. Worried we'll sneak where we shouldn't?"
"You have a reputation, Potter, nobody has forgotten the third-floor corridor back during our first year."
Or the Slytherin Common Room in our second, Harry thought, sharing a smirk with Hermione.
"Good to know you don't have early onset dementia, Malfoy," Hermione said calmly, mischief masterfully hidden in her eyes. "Where's the Ballroom?"
"The second set of doors after you turn the corner. Unlike at Hogwarts, the halls and stairs don't move, so even you should be able to find it."
That seemed almost like an insult, if a very covert one and, well... Harry could throw some back, but he didn't want to spend that much effort on this Malfoy when he could just go and have a nice conversation with his grandfather instead.
Of course, being Harry Potter, he didn't make it to the Ballroom. Instead, Lord Malfoy intercepted them right at the corner, coming from the other side.
"Miss Granger."
"Give him back whole or you'll find yourself missing limbs," she said, turning around and walking to the open doors, while leaving them both without words.
"She's... very spirited," Lord Malfoy commented.
"You don't know half of it," Harry said as Hermione disappeared from view.
"Don't try to find her, there are stairs going down a floor," Lord Malfoy said. "I have something for you."
"Oh?"
"Yes. And your hair is dreadful."
"I did my best?" Harry offered with a weak smile. His hair was a pain.
"Do you even use proper hair products? I have some Sleekeazy, if you want to try one more time to tame... that."
"Ouch, you wound me, Milord." Lord Malfoy stilled in front of him for a moment, then coughed into his hand. "What's Sleekeazy?"
"A potion-based shampoo Charlus Potter invented back in 1962. Many think it was Fleamont's invention, of course, but that's just because Charlus didn't like the attention, he preferred to lock himself up in his lab. Fleamont liked Charms and Transfigurations more."
Harry felt like Lord Malfoy hadn't needed to add so much information, but he appreciated it. In fact, Lord Malfoy kept talking about it as he led Harry to the closest bathroom to try and 'sort out the mess on his head', and Harry listened to every fact and every date, because people had told him so little about his family, that hearing stories like these from someone who had met them —and not through books— made them feel real. Like they existed and lived and had the exact same type of problems Harry did.
In the end, Harry's hair was... not bad, curls loose to the side and a bit over his forehead, because Lord Malfoy knew just how much showing his scar bothered him, and his left side slicked back, short enough that curls just couldn't form. It was odd not to feel his hair on his ear. Having had Lord Malfoy's hands on him for more than five consecutive minutes —the man had had to take off his dark grey gloves for this, his hands were so soft—had left him a hot, bothered mess, and he'd certainly be using this scene at night.
With a few tweaks that involved less clothes and much more contact.
Lord Malfoy clasped something to his right earlobe, and Harry found himself wearing a custom made earring. Of a peaco*ck feather coloured in a gradient of greens.
He titled his head, looking at himself in the mirror and brushing his fingers lightly on it. "It's pretty. Where did you get it?"
"I found it between some of... my old things. I figured it'd match pretty well."
"Yes, but where? I don't think I've ever seen anything like it."
"Ah, my peaco*cks drop feathers sometimes, I used to collect them as a child. Eventually, I started painting and preserving them, and later on making simple jewellery to wear. I had to modify this one a bit, since you don't have pierced ears."
Abraxas pointed out his own ears and Harry could clearly see where the holes used to be. They were more closed now. Harry's cheeks reddened at the thought of being given something so personal just because.
It was even better than the necklace he was wearing under his clothes.
"Thank you, I'll return it later, I promise."
"Do you not like it?" Harry blinked, confused, and Lord Malfoy huffed a soft laugh, looking... fond. "It's a gift."
Harry felt a smile spread through his face. "Oh, then I won't be returning it. Thank you, Lord Malfoy."
Tension fled the man's shoulders at Harry's words, and Harry tried not to drool at the almost shy smile he was given in return. "We should go. Your friends and Godparents will think I have kidnapped you."
"And I'd tell them I went willingly and knowingly."
Lord Malfoy put his gloves back on after cleaning and drying his hands, blush slightly darkening on his cheeks, then led Harry back to the Ballroom doors.
It was an enormous room with high ceilings and an ornate crystal chandelier, decorated in whites and golds and shades of magenta. Filled with people, but not so much that it was impossible to move. There were round tables around the room, close to the walls, with enough seats for at least eight people each, and a bigger rectangular table on the other side of the room on top of a raised dais, all of them decorated with a vase filled with flowers in the middle, the marble floor a recently polished, shining white. The stairs made a semicircle on the way down, and between them a small band played classical music for the guests.
"Lord Abraxas Malfoy and Mr. Harry Potter." Someone announced them, much to Harry's embarrassment.
Couldn't he have gone unnoticed?! He didn't like how everyone was looking at him, it made his skin itch and his brain went into overdrive.
"Shush, dear. Let's just walk down and let's find your Godfather so you can reunite," Lord Malfoy whispered calmly. "Straighten up, letting them know you're tense, or wary, will make you prey in their eyes, and you're anything but here."
Right. Harry felt the soft feather bushing his face as he walked down the stairs, and it grounded him. Harry wasn't just a guest here, but Lord Malfoy's guest, and even those who sided with the Dark Lord wouldn't be able to move against him tonight.
He took a deep breath and smiled at the older man, who simply hummed. Getting through the crowded room was harder as people tried to talk to either of them —and on the rare occasion, to both of them— but Lord Malfoy expertly redirected conversation, saying startlingly little of substance, so they could go on their way.
And damn, that was hot.
They reached the other end of the room easily, and Harry only barely managed to get a couple of glimpses of Hermione on the way. She seemed well, so he didn't approach her as he saw her deep in a conversation with a few older men and a couple of their yearmates.
Instead, Harry beamed when he saw Sirius and quickly walked up to him, receiving a hug from the much healthier man. He was dressed in perfectly fitted clothes, without a tie and two buttons undone, his hair in a half up that let Harry see the white gold chains on his pierced ears.
"Sirius."
"A Malfoy?" Sirius asked, making Harry pout. Sirius wasn't even looking around, just at the earring Harry was wearing. "No, excuse me, Lord Malfoy. Of course, Father always said he was obsessed with his peaco*cks. Harry, Godson, do you hate the Draco boy so much you're trying to seduce his grandfather?"
Harry quickly shushed Sirius as Lord Malfoy reached them, a questioning look on his face.
"My ears are tingling," Lord Malfoy said. "A pleasure to see you again, Sirius. Mr. Lupin."
"Likewise," Sirius said, forcing a smile. "If you don't mind, I'll take my Godson for the night. I'm sure he has many things to tell me."
Slightly embarrassed, Harry rolled his eyes and turned to Lord Malfoy. "Thank you for your help. We could talk later, when Sirius is more drunk and less overprotective?"
"You're free to seek me out at any time. Call for an elf if you cannot find me. And don't insult my best friend, we all know it won't end well."
It was funny how little Lord Malfoy meant the last part as the man chuckled at his own words.
"I'll keep that in mind." Harry smirked, not at all concerned about the Dark Lord's explosive moods.
Harry spent a couple of hours jumping between conversations, meeting people and actively avoiding others. Spending time with Sirius and Remus was great, and knowing they'd stay in the country for at least a few weeks before parting for East Asia for a while meant he felt a bit less guilty about leaving them to their own devices to go look for Lord Malfoy. Hermione and Susan Bones had corralled Lord Gaunt, even if probably only Hermione knew who he truly was, and seemed to be having a rather deep discussion on creatures rights and morals, which Harry was not touching with a ten feet pole.
He hadn't even approached them. No matter how much Ron joked that he had no self-preservation instincts, Harry had almost been a Slytherin for a reason.
No, he looked for a blond head among the crowd —not long, loose blond hair, and not short and dishevelled, those two could disappear and Harry would be a happy man- almost man, teen, whatever— and once he had located it, he made his way through the people, greeting anyone who tried to talk with him but not letting them trap him for longer than a minute or two. In the middle of the Ballroom, people danced to the music, and those who didn't talked by the sides or sat at the tables.
"Lord Malfoy." Harry made himself known, as the man was turned around.
That changed immediately. Lord Malfoy turned to look at him and his shoulders, ever so slightly, relaxed, a small smile appearing on his face.
"Mr. Potter," Lord Malfoy said.
Harry was introduced to Avery, his previous teacher Nott —as in not anymore— and Black. Orion Black, who Harry had never seen before, not even in a picture. He was a taller, older, more handsome version of Sirius. And more proper, too, even if it seemed he had loosened his tie a bit and left his formal robe somewhere.
(Everyone had, apparently, collectively forgotten to inform the man that Sirius was around, and it was rather funny to see the panicked expression he made when informed. After watching Harry and Lord Malfoy laugh, the man had just been resigned to his fate, which was probably a very awkward talk involving lots of no, Sirius, I'm alive, no, I'm not a ghost, no, your mother is dead, no I'm not sad about it.
Harry cackled just imagining it.)
Lord Malfoy excused them not long after, however, choosing to give Harry his whole attention. He'd be lying if he said it didn't make him feel special.
"Is the evening to your tastes?"
"Well, it's not so bad," Harry said. "I've never attended one, other than the Ball during my fourth year, and that wasn't a pleasant experience."
"I can imagine being thrown into the limelight like that must have made you uncomfortable. Draco talked extensively about your lack of dancing skills."
Harry snorted, looking at the people in the centre of the room. "Well, I had only had a couple of dancing lessons, and I certainly did not know I'd be the one opening the Ball."
"Are you any better now?"
"Only marginally," Harry said. "Why? Were you interested in trying me?"
"Not trying, but... Would you give me the next song?" Lord Malfoy asked, holding out his hand for Harry to take.
Harry arched an eyebrow. "Didn't we just mention my abysmal skills?"
"I've been taught to lead since I was young, I'm sure I can disguise the movements enough. Mostly, it's about confidence."
"I have no confidence whatsoever in dancing."
"Fake it until you make it, my dear, it's what I've been doing my whole life."
"Oh?" Harry said, finally taking the offered hand, which Lord Malfoy brought up to his lips, kissing the back of it.
"I've always been better suited to following, not leading. In many aspects of my life."
Harry blinked, trying to decide if that had been a proposition of some kind or not. Before he could decide, the band finished the song, and Harry was led to the dance floor.
Far more nervous than he looked, he put his hands on Lord Malfoy's shoulders. The man’s hands went automatically to his waist, and as the music started anew Harry tried not to think too hard of where he was stepping, even if he knew it must have been on Lord Malfoy's feet more than once. The man didn't show it, simply switching the position of their hands so he could hold one of Harry's, the hand left in his waist pulling him closer until it was on the small of his back.
Harry went with it as they moved around the dance floor, catching more than one pair of eyes.
"Not so bad, is it?"
"I've only ever been taught to lead and this feels very weird." Harry said.
They were close, very close, and Harry could see the different shades of blue in Lord Malfoy's eyes. Merlin, this man was too gorgeous for his age and it did things to Harry.
"We can switch for the next song, if you wish."
They did. In fact, they took turns switching positions for a few songs, Harry somehow being brave enough to twirl the blond man in his arms, whose cheeks turned pink and his laugh freer. They took breaks to get drinks —Lord Malfoy didn't drink alcohol at all, which was good to know for future outings Harry was going to ask Lord Malfoy on— every few songs. People took those moments as chances to approach them, either to talk or ask for dances as well, but Harry firmly refused.
Lord Malfoy had noticed and followed suit, even though Harry had commented that he didn't mind if the man wished to take on another partner.
"Why would I? One is more than enough for me, it allows me to be fully dedicated and appropriately attentive."
And Merlin that felt like a huge hint Harry very much didn't want to ignore. And he didn't. Through the evening, Lord Malfoy grew restless, his eyes slightly less focused, and at times Harry caught him wincing at particularly high-pitched or loud noises.
Time for strategic retreat, Harry thought as they talked with yet another Ministry official, who seemed interested in boring them both to death.
Harry took Lord Malfoy's arm, leaning his weight a bit on it subtly, and the older man looked down at him with worry.
"Everything alright, my dear?" Lord Malfoy asked, cutting the man off without a second thought.
"I need to get out for a while. I'm not used to this many people."
"Of course." Lord Malfoy's shoulders dropped a fraction and proceeded to end his talk, then lead Harry to a side-door. "It's the doors to the back garden, if you don't mind."
"It's perfect," Harry said, smiling.
The air outside was cool and refreshing, but not cold. Still, Harry took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, then took Lord Malfoy's arm again as they walked around. There were a few people outside, and dim spirit-lights floating around to light up the paved road. Bushes were cut in animal shapes, and there were patches of flowers in full bloom everywhere. In the distance, Harry could almost see the white spots that were Lord Malfoy's prized albino peaco*cks. It was a big contrast to the music and boisterous talk inside the Ballroom, and Harry didn't feel the need to start any small talk.
Harry's feet hurt slightly, and Lord Malfoy must have noticed because he led Harry to a rather private spot far from any other people. A small pond with coloured fish and a bench by it, with trees and tall bushes covering them from being seen.
They sat side by side, and Abraxas filled the silence, talking about anything that came to mind as if he couldn't stand the stillness of the night. Or maybe he was just nervous. Harry let the words flow, taking Lord Malfoy's hand in his and playing with his fingers.
Eventually, Lord Malfoy's whispers ran out, and they just looked at each other. Harry had no idea what kind of expression he must be making, but Lord Malfoy was cautious, hopeful but restrained in a way Harry didn't know how to be.
"Milord, if there's something you want, you have but to take it."
"Do I?"
Harry hummed. "Yes."
They stayed in silence for a minute, and Harry feared he may have misstepped. That he may have misunderstood the older man's intentions due to his own wants, that all the signals he had seen were nothing but wishful thinking and a mind full of hormones.
Slowly, Lord Malfoy raised Harry's hand to his lip for the third time tonight, but this time he turned it around and kissed the palm, then the inside of his wrist, and put Harry's hand on his cheek, his bigger hand over Harry's.
"I wish to kiss you," Lord Malfoy said, and Harry hadn't expected him to say anything. "And I won't if you tell me you do not wish the same."
Heat rose on Harry's face at the intense look directed his way, and it felt like this had some sort of significance he couldn't begin to understand. Still, he had made his decision long ago and he wasn't about to take a step back now.
"Yes, please."
Lord Malfoy leaned down, needing no other cue than Harry's clear words. His lips were soft, the contact gentle. Harry could both melt and explode at the same time. Harry closed his eyes and enjoyed it, the way Lord Malfoy would pull back for air and then kiss him again, and again, and again. How his hands fell on Harry's waist, pulling them closer in their awkward position. Harry brought his other hand up to Lord Malfoy's face, bushing his thumbs over red cheeks, and smiled into the kisses.
Harry didn't know how much time had passed when they stopped, Lord Malfoy putting their foreheads together. Harry felt like laughing, adrenaline running through his veins, and he couldn't help his embarrassment when he just couldn't stop giggling. And every time he did, Lord Malfoy would just push forward for another tender kiss, on his lips and his cheeks and his forehead and the tip of his nose, which just made him laugh more.
His, this was his.
(Harry didn't remember ever smiling and laughing this much, the only times that came close were when he was alone with Ron and Hermione and the world didn't exist, just them.
Harry wanted to keep this.)
