Chapter Text
Harry emerged from the library looking utterly exhausted, his arms laden with books on pure-blood etiquette, wizarding customs, formal dances, and countless other absurdities he would ordinarily never have spared a second glance.
It was well past curfew, and the corridors of Hogwarts were deserted.
Malfoy had remained behind to write a letter to his father detailing Harry’s progress.
Harry sighed heavily. His arms ached from the weight of the books as he made his way towards the Gryffindor common room.
“Mate!”
Ron called the moment Harry stepped through the portrait hole.
“Guys?”
Harry looked genuinely surprised that his friends had stayed awake waiting for him.
“Let me help, mate.”
Ron immediately relieved him of several books before Harry could protest.
Hermione approached a moment later, suppressing a yawn.
“How did it go?”
There was a trace of sarcasm in her voice.
“I’m just glad it’s finished.”
For the first time all day, Harry smiled.
Ron patted him on the back in an awkward but sincere attempt at encouragement.
⸻
The following evening, during dinner, a small black box appeared beside Harry’s plate.
“I hope it’s not another ridiculous gift from that moron,” Harry muttered.
He opened the box to find three letters inside.
Two were sealed with dark green wax.
The third lay open on top.
Harry unfolded it and began to read.
My dear Harry James Potter,
Enclosed you will find two invitations intended for your companions, Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger. Kindly inform them that these invitations are not to be misplaced under any circumstances.
I have also been informed that your education in proper pure-blood etiquette is progressing admirably. How pleasing.
Do ensure that your friends receive at least the most basic instruction in these matters as well. It would be most unfortunate if the conduct of a blood traitor and a Muggle-born were to reflect poorly upon my future husband.
I expect excellence, Harry.
Yours,
Lord Voldemort
Harry stared at the letter for several seconds before setting fire to it with a muttered spell, watching the parchment curl into ashes.
Without a word, he handed the remaining letters to Ron and Hermione.
“Harry?”
Hermione gently placed a hand over his, the gesture more sisterly than anything else.
“We’re with you, Harry. You’re not facing this alone.”
Harry felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders.
Not entirely, of course.
There was only so relaxed one could feel when preparing to marry a snake-faced mass murderer.