Chapter Text

PART ONE - FOURTH YEAR

"Hermione - who are you going to the ball with?" said Ron. Harry and Hermione surreptitiously shared a look behind Ron as he strode out the Great Hall between them, his gaze kept forward with a forced nonchalance that had Harry rolling his eyes behind his back and Hermione smirking in return.

She looked back at Ron with a cleverly conjured frown, "I'm not telling you, you'll just make fun of me." Ron huffed and turned around to say something else before his gaze wavered and a disgusted scowl found his face.

"You're joking, Weasley?" said Draco Malfoy behind them, "You're not telling me someone's asked that to the ball, are you?" He was sauntering up to the three of them in a dramatic billow of his Slytherin robes and a shit-eating grin on his face. Hermione opened her mouth to reply before Harry stepped in front of her with a scathing look.

"He's not telling you anything, Malfoy." He said with a glare, "Now shove off before I feel the need to summon Professor Moody over."

"Oh, what's this?" Malfoy said with a smirk, "Potter's defending his girlfriend! I always though the Weasel would go for her, to be quite honest - although who says he hasn't. Always knew all three of you were-"

Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it angrily at the blonde, "Shut up, Malfoy" He hissed, and for some reason felt the need to add, "And it's not like that." He felt Hermione's hand on his arm behind him and she muttered to him in a low voice, "Harry, don't bother."

But Malfoy continued with a new sort of interest and barely spared a glance at Ron or Hermione, "Oh really, Potter? Well that means you've got a date to the Ball. The champion must be drowning in requests to sweep them as their date." He prompted, making a sweeping motion with his arms. Harry readjusted his grip on his wand, his hands unexplainably sweaty. He knew he had asked Parvati not long before, but he still couldn't get used to the idea of actually taking her, and at this point was seriously considering feigning sickness on the night of the Ball, or worse, just taking Ron. Harry glanced at the boy next to him, his face red and looking at Malfoy like he was the very scum at the bottom of his cauldron. There was nothing wrong with taking Ron to the Ball, but Harry found the idea extremely off-putting every time he remembered Ron's dreadful dress robes, so he never voiced the option to the other boy. That was Padma's problem now, fortunately for him.

Malfoy, having sensed Harry's hesitation, laughed gleefully at him, "Oh. Oh. Isn't that something! It's the day of the Ball and our very coveted champion, Harry Potter, has yet to find a date!" He laughed a second time, causing anger to bloom in Harry's chest. Having the stress of finding out the clue to the next challenge, thinking about Sirius and staying constantly vigilant because he was apparently in danger (once again), Harry's anger had been at a considerable level consistently over the past few months. He was barely juggling his schoolwork, piled with solving the next challenge's clue, worrying about Sirius getting caught and overall trying not to die every 3 months for once in his years at Hogwarts. Not to mention the humiliation of getting rejected by Cho. Harry almost crumpled in to a ball on the spot. Why couldn't he just have something like a normal Quidditch season? Quidditch he knew. Not dragons and golden eggs.

Ron stepped forward with his hands clenched at his sides, his voice tight in constrained anger as he spoke, "Actually, ferret, we'll have you know-" but Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm,

"That's right, Malfoy." He started with a dangerous smile on his face, "It seems I have no choice but to ask the most undesirable, unwanted and desperate of the lot to the Ball. What can I say? Of course it's got to be a Slytherin." He said haughtily. Malfoy's shoulders drooped slightly at that, his gleeful mirth now slightly weaker than before. Harry took pleasure in seeing the other boy's confusion. He didn't necessarily know where he was going with this, but the small thrill at fighting with Malfoy gave him the possibility of a small victory in a long time. He decided in that moment that rendering the normally articulate Slytherin almost speechless was a step from winning the argument all together. All he needed to do was press it further.

"Oh, please potter." Malfoy drawled when he finally managed to regain his cocky composure, "Like any Slytherin would go with you! Whoever actually agrees to go with a plebian Gryffindor like you could be the biggest fool in the school!" His composure was once again slightly slipping - Harry could tell.

"Well that's fitting!" Harry shot back, dropping his wand hand and holding his other hand out to Malfoy with a deadly glitter in his green eyes, "Because I was going to ask you to fill that spot!"

"Harry!" Ron erupted next to him. Malfoy's mouth hung agape as a retort failed to leave his mouth.

"Wh - Potter what in Merlin's-" He started, but was interrupted by Harry who was feeling very proud of himself, "Only the biggest fool would go with me to the Ball, so how about it, Malfoy-"

"Harry!" Ron hissed again into his ear.

"-Go to the ball with the coveted Triwizard Champion!"