Work Text:
"Draco, where is the hairpin that Uncle gifted me on Yule?" Lyra yelled through the Manor, disregarding all the manners and properness Mother had drilled into her since infancy, like the rebellious brat she is.
"Lyra Valentina Malfoy! Come to me and I'll find it for you." And there was already the favouritism. Draco rolled his eyes. Mother might believe she was subtle with her choice of favourite child, but she really wasn't. Lyra was the apple of her eye, her golden child, perfection without markle.
Everything Draco wasn't.
Having an older sister was tough on many levels. The management of the household, the title of Count Malfoy and all the responsibilities that name brought with would befall to him, despite being a year younger. That was one of the reasons he had been introduced to society much sooner than his older sister. Today marked her first ball, an event organised by royalty. Prince Harold was coming of age just like Lyra did and King James and Queen Lily were anxious to find a bride for him. Other children of Prince Harold's age normally already were promised to someone since birth. Old families always wedded with each other, contracts were written by grandparents for their grandchildren. The royal family, or rather Prince Harold was the exception.
King James had married Queen Lily, a commoner, while breaking off his engagement with his promised lady. It had been quite the scandal if one could believe the gossip Mother exchanged on her weekly afternoon tea parties.
King James seemingly believed in bonding for love and not for power or political gains and therefore never promised his son to anyone.
Hence the ball today.
To find a bride for the Prince.
But that was not of Draco's concern. He would accompany his sister for introduction to the high society instead of Father and look for a suitable maiden for himself. His fiancé had died at birth and so he had to go out and socialize. Mother had been ever so angry at Father when she heard of Astoria's death.
"How could you promise our son to a sick family like that?! They had no healthy children in almost three generations," she nagged and Draco could only roll his eyes at her. She hadn't been all that interested in him and left Father in charge of his raising. That Father was almost never there was convenient. Draco had seen more nannies than his own Mother. And she wondered, why he was so cold and short with her.
"Draco! The hairpin!" Lyra yelled again and this time he couldn't contain a tired sign. Why she wouldn't just ask her servant to fetch it for her was beyond him. He suspected, she just liked to order him around as long as she still could.
"Right away dear sister," Draco said in measured volume. He had some manners, thank you very much.
After everything was fixed on Lyra's hair and her dress was fitted snugly around her waist, he escorted the lady and miss of his house to their carriage. On the ride he passed the time with reading. Mother clicked her tongue at him and demanded that he should fix his posture, but Draco didn't care enough to follow her orders. Nobody was there to see and he knew how to behave in society, so her nagging now was useless. She seemed to understand that too, because she dropped it and left him to his reading.
The journey was uneventful, safe for the loud noises around the castle. The festivies were in full row and music was coming from everywhere. Common folk wasn't allowed to participate in the bal itself, but the market was lit with laterns and performers were hired to entertain the lower class. They all lapped up the bones the royal family was throwing them, none the wiser that the owners were dining juicy meat and tasty beverages.
Draco was raised to be a Lord and to act and think as such, to feel superior and sneer while driving by, but all he felt was pity. Pity for that common folk, blind to all the possibilities and knowledge the world had to offer. Content like a dog with the owner feeding them scrabes, never intending to take the bird for themselves.
Father would scold him for thinking so, but Draco had learned early, that the art of pretending was one he had to master quickly. And he did. To this point, nobody knew that the future Lord Malfoy was in fact an philanthropist. His grandfather would turn in his grave. The thought gave Draco a little bit of smug satisfaction.
His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Mother was looking him again. He gave her a brief nod and she left him well alone.
"Please have an eye on Lyra, will you, son?" Mother asked, no, demanded really and all Draco could give was an tired smile. Lyra would run off and mingle with her friends the moment they would set foot into the castle and he would be forced to tail after her like a puppy. He already dreaded it.
"I'll introduce her to all fine gentlemen I know, Mother," Draco promised stiffly. Mother gasped in outrage.
"Draco! Lyra will not marry some common gentlemen! A lady of her status should at least marry a marquis! Or better even, a duke! And," she calmed enough to give Lyra a meaningful look, "if she does her job perfectly, even the Prince would not be out of question."
"The Prince?" Draco squeaked surprised, "Surely you jest, Mother!"
"Of course not, son. Lyra is a beautiful, educated and outspoken young lady. She's more than capable of charming that Prince."
She sneered at bit at the mention of Prince Harold. Social status aside she wasn't a big fan of his. Not traditional enough for her liking, but one couldn't ignore the power and prestige a marriage with the royal house would bring. That's why all eligible women of age were there tonight, to farn over the very elusive Prince and his money. Draco could barf at it all. But that was the world they were living in.
He took extra care to hold his sister's dress while helping her out of the carriage. Then, he escorted them both into the castle.
"Lord Malfoy, with Lady and Miss Malfoy," he announced himself at the desk, where they had to give their invitations.
"Ah, yes," the redhead sitting there said, with a slight smirk, "the Malfoys."
Draco raised one eyebrow. "Excuse me? Is there anything wrong with our name?"
"No," the redhead grinned, "not at all."
"State your name, please," Draco asked, while ushering Mother and Lyra closer to the door.
"Ronald Weasley, sir," the redhead said, not the least afraid. Draco admired that courage. Most commoners fell over their feet to please noblemen, but this one seemed not inclined to do so.
"I'll remember your name, Ronald Weasley," Draco said, accompanied with a sharp smile full of teeth, "Have a good night."
"Thank you, sir," Weasley said, looking bewildered and confused. He might have expected to be scolded or slapped for his impudence, but Draco wasn't that shallow. Oh, Father would have slapped him, no doubt, but Draco didn't want to make more enemies than he could keep his eyes on. Who knows, what connections this redhead could have? He might be acquainted with the chef of staff or a general or another high ranking individual in the castle. Most noblemen underestimated the power commoners had. Oh, they couldn't do much outwards, but they could talk. And gossip might ruin a family quicker than a sword.
Mother was looking at him impatiently and gripped his arm a little tighter than necessary, but he endured it with an easy smile.
"Why were you talking to that vermin of a Weasley?" she hissed into his ear while they walked the long corridors.
"You knew him?" Draco asked, ignoring her question.
"Of course! Weasley is a military family, the oldest son was knighted when he was sixteen, despite born in the slums," she sneered, looked around and then spoke a bit softer, "They have more children than they could feed. Despicable family, really."
"Well," Draco said, "Ronald Weasley is a pleasant man." Just to annoy Mother a bit. And judging from the frown on her face, it was working.
"You know better than that, Draco," she said and sounded disappointed.
"Of course, Mother," Draco said indulgently, "whatever you say."
Beside him, Lyra was brimming with excitement, she could barely contain herself.
"I'm so nervous," she said.
"You'll be fine, dear. Just remember what we practiced," Mother assured her and Lyra swallowed heavily before straighting up.
"Shall we then?" Draco asked uselessly and escorted them into the snake pit. Their names were announced and several of Draco's acquiantances turned their heads to greet them with a toast. Draco smiled in return, left Mother with her chatty friends and then introduced his sister to the royal family. As the momentary head of house it was his responsibility to represent the Malfoy name and so he bowed in front of the royal family and waited for King James's command.
"Draco Malfoy, with my dear sister, Miss Lyra Malfoy, at your service, your Majesties, Prince" Draco greeted the king, queen and Prince Harold, although not bowing deeper than he had too. Many noblemen fell on their knees tonight in hopes to gain favour, but Draco couldn't care less. He didn't need the King's favour. He would let Lyra marry a nobleman of proper standing, but even the thought of Lyra catching Prince Harold's attention was ludicrous. She might be pretty and witty, but so were many else. She wasn't special and Draco had no illusions of her becoming the future Queen, no matter what Mother said.
"Ah, Draco, my boy, please raise your head," King James's voice was pleasent and deep, but Draco cringed nonetheless at the overfamiliarity. He had caught the King's attention prior, due to his own thoughtlessness. He had spoken of war tactics without knowing, that the King was right behind him, listening to all his ramblings and instead of scolding him for his presumptions, King James had looked thoughtful and just clapped him on his shoulder with an hearty laugh.
"If this is the kingdoms future generation, then we're sailing to good times, indeed," was all he said, before leaving Draco, who stood there gaping like a fish. His companions had praised his genius, but it had been an accident, really. He hadn't planned on gaining the King's attention, nor was planning to do so now.
But King James seemed adamant to remember him.
"Thank you, your majesty," Draco said and slightly turned to observe his sister. She was still courtysing as she hadn't been allowed to rise yet. Normally that was left to the queen. She was judging all the young maidens tonight, observing their manners and looks, sorting through them, while discarding the unsatisfactory like old clothes. But Queen Lily wasn't looking at Lyra at all. Her attention was still on Draco and he allowed himself to look slightly confused. Her warm smile didn't ease his concerns.
After a few minutes, which seemed like eternity, Queen Lily inclined her head.
"Lovely, dear," was what she said, "you may rise. It was a pleasure meeting you."
Lyra rose like she was asked to and her smile was slightly wider than appropriate. But Draco didn't really care. He hadn't even looked at the Prince yet, but he couldn't fanthom Prince Harold to be interested in her. A quick glance to the throne beside King James confirmed his suspicions. Prince Harold was staring right at Draco, glaring rather intensively. Draco shivered.
"Please enjoy the night, Draco, Miss Malfoy. We'll be surely speaking to you again," King James dismissed them and Draco breathed out relieved. Please don't speak to us again was all he could think of, but he fought hard to maintain a friendly smile on his face.
"Of course, thank you for your time," Draco said, bowed one last time while Lyra courtsied again and then lead her back to Mother, who was smothering Lyra with anxious attention.
"How was it, dear, you were there quite a long time, was everything alright?" Mother asked, ever so concerned and Draco left before he could hear Lyra's answer. He found himself a secluded spot hidden away to continue his reading. The ball continued on without him and soon the first dance was announced.
"May his Highness Prince Harold find a partner for the dance," a page said and Draco glanced up, observing Harold standing up swiftly, walking through the masses, which parted as if he was Moses and couldn't quite stop gaping as the Prince came to stand before him.
"May I have this dance, Lord Malfoy?" Prince Harold asked, a smirk adoring his handsome face. Draco blinked several times, leaving Harold waiting longer than proper. The Prince's smirk softened at Draco's hesitance.
"Is that a no?"
And then Draco's manners kicked in and he stood awkwardly, leaving the book by his side.
"No, I- I'll dance with you," he stuttered and took the offered hand. Harold's smile widened just a bit before he smoothed his face out and he brought Draco to the dance floor. They bowed to each other and took their positions. Draco wondered, wether he should lead or not and he couldn't decide, because his head was all hazy with panic. But the Prince just gently took Draco's hand and placed it on his shoulder.
"Relax," he whispered, "I won't let you fall."
Draco willed his tension down, muted all thoughts screaming that this was a bad idea and bravely looked into Princr Harold's eyes just to promptly regretted it. They were such a vivid green, sparkly, just like the Queen's. He had the feeling, he knew them from somewhere, but he couldn't quite place it. They were so beautiful, that Draco almost missed his cue. Harold seemed amused by his antics.
"You're a good dancer, Lord Malfoy," Harold complimented, as he swirled him around.
"Thank you, your highness," Draco managed to say while keeping his voice even, "That's kind of you."
"You're welcome," Harold said before adding, "You wouldn't mind a second, would you? A dance, that is."
And now Draco was blushing. Prince Harold was showing so much interest in him, it was uncomfortable.
"Your highness, that would be inappropriate," he said and stared over Harold's shoulder, looking in dozens faces distored with envy.
You can have him he wanted to scream.
"Why would that be inappropriate?" Harold calmly asked. Draco looked at him incrudlously.
"Surely your highness must know, what that would convey. Dancing two times with the same person speaks of interest in pursuing a courtship," Draco said.
"I'm aware," Harold replied "you already explained that to me once."
Now Draco was confused. This should be their first meeting. He would remember talking to the crown prince, wouldn't he?
"I'm afraid, I can't follow," Draco said frowning.
Harold let out a breathless laughter. "I was wondering, if you'd remember, but I admit, it was a long time ago. We've played together when we were younger. I was visiting with my Godfather at that time. It was all very hush hush and nobody knew of my real identity, not even your parents. They were told that I was a child my Godfather was fostering for a while," he explained and twirled Draco around, "Maybe you remember me under the name Harry?"
And now everything fell into place. He remembered Harry as his childhood friend, someone he held dear and close to his heart. They only played for a few months together and Draco had missed him when he had left. Harry had promised to write, but he never did. After secluding himself in sorrow, Draco had buried those fond memories and hadn't let anyone close to his heart again. Now Harry's abrupt depature made sense. He had to go back to the palace and learn everything a prince had to learn.
"My Godfather negotiated half a year of childish freedom for me, before I had to take on my responsibilities. I always wanted to write, wanted to ask how you were," Harry's eyes turned wistful, "but for some reason I never did." Now he looked at Draco intently. "Please forgive me."
Draco was flustered and he took a step back when the dance ended.
"Then did you mean what you said about the second dance?" Draco asked, a little breathless. Everything was crashing into him, but somehow, the answer to that question mattered to him very much.
Harry bowed, like it was customary and offered his hand again. A collective gasp went through the hall and Draco couldn't even imagine the gossip that would entertain the city the next week.
"Yes, of course. And I'll even declare it with my words, Draco, not just with a dance: I would like to court you, officially."
Another gasp. Someone fainted.
"But, but, I'm a man!" Draco objected hotly. He wouldn't let himself be ridiculed again. Harry had played with his feelings for far too long, he would never allow it to happen again.
Harry stood straighter and lazily pointed to his parents.
"As you know, my father intends to let me marry for love and he never specified the gender of my future spouse," Harry said with a wicked grin, "And something tells me, that he already likes you very much. I'm sure, he won't be against it."
"And your mother?" Draco asked weakly, stripped off all his defenses. But Harry always had that effect on him.
"She's pleased with you as well. You've shown your manners and your abilities before and you're known for your wit and knowledge. She wanted someone wise for me, not beauty." Harry smiled at his mother, who returned it with a regal nod. That's why she had been watching Draco so intently. He had been judged, not Lyra.
"Now that you know everything and we don't have any secrets left to tell, will you answer me, Draco?" Harry asked hopeful, offering his hand again. "Will you let me court you and get to know you better?"
Draco stared at him, looking for any signs of deceit and found none. This was Harry, honest and lovely Harry, his first friend.
There wasn't even a choice to be made.
"Yes, Harry, I would be honoured."