Chapter Text
Draco shifted uncomfortably in the plastic chair, resisting the urge to bounce his leg as he waited for the Headmistress to call him into her office. He checked his phone again and reread the email Ms. Mcgonagall had sent him earlier that morning, instructing him to come to her office at 11:45 am, during the school-wide study period, for an important meeting about 'a special request regarding his involvement in the annual benefactor’s gala’. He was still unsure what that meant, there wasn’t supposed to be anything special about this year’s gala, and he wasn’t graduating until next year, so she was unlikely to ask him to perform a solo or give a speech, privileges usually reserved for graduating students.
He checked the time again, 11:53. Draco exhaled roughly, he should be using this time to reacquaint himself with the barres of Studio B after a month away for winter break. He had danced over break, obviously, he had a small studio in his own basement and an overbearing father who made sure he used it.
The door to the waiting room swung shut loudly, causing Draco to startle and lock eyes with the source of the sound, which was an out of breath looking Harry Potter, who quickly composed himself when he recognized Draco, walking passed him towards the office.
Potter knocked twice on the door and shuffling could be heard from behind it, before opening to reveal the imposing figure of the Headmistress. Potter turned and shot a smug look at Draco, who was rapidly turning red at the realization that he had been waiting for Mcgonagall to let him in and hadn’t even thought to try knocking.
“Come in, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy”, the Headmistress said promptly.
Draco grabbed his backpack and made his way into the office, choosing the chair as far away from Potter as possible in the small room. Mcgonagall looked impatient as he sat down, launching into her explanation of the meeting before he had fully settled into his seat.
“As we are limited on time now, since you two did not deem this meeting important enough to be punctual, I will be brief. The school is courting a few new potential donors, all belonging to prominent companies and families, that the board and myself would very much like to impress at the end of year gala. As you know, the gala is our main fundraising event each year, and this year it will have to be particularly grand to secure checks from these new benefactors.” Draco listened as Mcgonagall talked, though his eyes kept wandering to the boy two chairs over from him, who was incessantly picking at his own nails and cuticles, driving Draco mad.
“I have decided that the two of you, being exceptionally talented in your respective disciplines, will create an original work that will debut at the gala. This, of course, will require extensive joint rehearsals, as it will be performed together.”
Draco’s head snapped up in horror, and out of the corner of his widened eyes he saw Potter mirror his shock. The two of them had a notorious animosity, the whole school new of their distaste for each other, snide comments were constantly being exchanged in hallways and classrooms, they were always competing for the attention of peers and audiences, despite Potter being a pianist and Draco a dancer.
Draco turned to glare at Potter’s profile as he made a desperate plea to change the Headmistress’s mind. He was the school’s prize student, a child prodigy pianist who’d been made relatively famous at age 7 with a viral video of him playing Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Major, that received praise and media attention around the globe. Draco couldn’t stand him, the way he was so nonchalant about his craft, always goofing off during class and skipping rehearsals to hang out with his friends. He faked humility as easily as he breathed too, pretending he didn’t care about the entire school falling over him, but always subtly showing off. Draco felt like he was the only one who saw through it, even his own friends didn’t understand why he hated Potter so much.
After Potter’s weak attempt to get out of their shared predicament, Mcgonagall gave them guidelines and a timeline for their piece, three months to compose, choreograph, learn, and perfect the piece before spring break. She sent them off with a warning to behave and a suggestion to start working on a schedule as soon as possible.
—
Harry wandered into the cafeteria minutes after the lunch bell sounded and bee-lined for the same table in the corner that he and his friends had occupied every day for years. No one even looked up as he sat down, entirely too used to his chronic tardiness, so he pulled out the lunch he’d packed in hurry this morning. An eclectic combination of leftovers from the past week that included a thermos full of last night’s Nabeyaki udon soup, the last couple Shinghara he had snagged before Sirius was able to finish them off, and a slice of chocolate Babka that Remus had made double of for both his and Harry’s insatiable sweet tooth.
Hermione eventually broke away from the conversation she and Ron were having about whether music or photography was the more democratic art form, with an aggravated huff and a roll of her eyes, finally turning to acknowledge Harry.
“Still having that mind-numbing debate with Ron, I see” Harry laughed at the two.
“There was no one to knock any sense into him over break, so I had to remind him as soon as we got back how wrong he is about the transformative qualities of pop music.”
The three of them fell back into the easy banter they had had since childhood, eventually joined in conversation by Luna and Ginny —who had finally looked up from ginny’s sketchbook long enough to engage with their friends. Neville joined them minutes later, he’d been taking advantage of a free pottery wheel during less busy studio hours, as evidenced by the dried clay smearing his pants and caked under his nails. They discussed their respective breaks, Ginny and Ron had dragged their whole family to the Tate Modern at one point, and Hermione had been driving herself mad preparing audition pieces for summer program applications. Harry himself hadn’t done much, he’d enjoyed the time away from schoolwork and constant rehearsal, spent many of his days curled up on the couch with mugs of tea and old movies.
As the discussion inevitably drifted from break to what was happening at school, Harry remembered the meeting this morning and realized he hadn’t yet told any of them about this unfortunate development to his spring semester.
“I’ve been asked to perform a solo at the gala this year.” Hermione announced, looking proud.
The chorus of congratulations from around the table was interrupted by the thump of Harry’s head hitting the table and the loud groan that accompanied it. “I forgot to tell you all, I’ve been asked to compose and perform a work for the gala as well.” Harry sighed, before adding, “with Malfoy.”
“Mcgonagall must have lost the plot, everyone knows you two hate each other!” Ron was the first to break the confused silence that followed Harry’s statement, “This won’t end well.” He added, sounding incredulous.
The rest of the lunch period was spent both plotting how to make Harry’s next three months working with Malfoy bearable, and complaining about the blond dancer. The general consensus was that Malfoy was unbearably arrogant and condescending, and collaborating with him would be a test of both Harry’s patience and self-restraint.
Harry left lunch feeling much better about the whole affair, now convinced that if he just ignored Malfoy as much as possible, and tuned out his annoying comments, insults, and all-around git-ishness, he would be able to get through the next three months relatively unfazed.