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The room was almost suffocating, and Harry kept tugging at his bow tie, loosening the collar of his shirt. He would’ve given anything not to attend those horrific Ministry Christmas parties every single year. Why couldn’t he stay home watching TV instead?
He didn’t particularly fancy elegant events and formal dress robes, but the thing he despised the most were the dozens of flirty witches and wizards who always threw themselves at him the moment he stepped through the doors. What a nightmare. It looked like his decision to come out to the public had only doubled the number of his unwanted suitors.
He’d already refused three dances and now could see another person approaching him, so Harry made a quick escape towards the garden, hoping he could find some peace and quiet there at least. He reached a wooden gazebo, beautifully decorated with garlands and wreaths, lit up with hundreds of fairy lights, and stepped inside, relishing in the welcome solitude.
“What an honour. The Saviour himself graces me with his presence.”
Harry sighed, eyes closing in exasperation. “Malfoy.”
“Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor.”
Harry wanted to strangle him. This was the last thing he needed right now. “Are you drunk?”
Malfoy shrugged. “Maybe a little. It’s not like I was enjoying myself back there.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, these parties are a bore, aren’t they?”
“What, the Saviour doesn’t fancy being the centre of attention?”
“Not so much. And stop calling me that.”
“Well, that comes as a surprise. I thought you loved basking in your glory, being the Saviour and all,” Malfoy smirked, which infuriated Harry even more.
“Will you stop that? I hate this. Why do you think I’m hiding in here? There’s an infinite queue of people waiting to dance with me.”
Malfoy tilted his head back and laughed. “Poor Potter, you have more suitors than the hair on your thick head.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Look, I didn’t came here to listen to your pathetic jokes.”
“No, you obviously came here to learn a lesson in elegance and finesse,” Malfoy retorted, straightening his shoulders.
“What, from you?” Harry said mockingly, “oh, please. You’re drunk as a skunk.”
Malfoy had the decency to look offended. “Excuse me? At least I have the decency not to untuck my shirt in public.”
Harry groaned. “It was suffocating in there!”
“I don’t care. Elegance means composure.”
Harry snorted. “What makes you think I care about those things?”
“Of course you don’t, you total oaf.”
But Harry wasn’t really listening to him anymore. He was looking at the lights dancing above his head, at the giant Christmas tree right sparkling in the heart of the gazebo. “It's beautiful, isn't it?”
Malfoy blinked, confused. “What?”
“The tree. If I wasn’t hiding from a hideous party, I’d say this place is quite romantic.”
“What you really mean to say is ‘if you weren’t hiding with me.’”
Harry turned his head to look at Malfoy. “That’s not what I meant.”
“So you’re saying you don’t really mind being stuck with me in a romantic-looking gazebo?”
“Precisely.”
Malfoy swallowed. “Well, looks like you’re quite drunk too.”
“I’m perfectly sober, thank you very much.”
“Then you’re not in your right mind. You wouldn’t say things like that if you were.”
Harry had had enough. “You know what? I can’t deal with this right now. I came here to relax, not to bicker with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find another place to hide.” Harry made to get up and leave, but Malfoy grasped his arm, causing Harry to freeze in surprise. “What?”
“Don’t leave. I know I’m a jerk, but I’m feeling quite lonely here.”
“And why should I stay?” Harry retorted, but then noticed the sad light in Malfoy’s eyes. “Alright. But no more insults.”
Malfoy snorted. “It wouldn’t be us if we didn’t insult each other.”
“True, a leopard can’t change its spots.”
“Nor can the Saviour apparently,” Malfoy said with a smirk.
“Oh, do shut up. Want to dance?” Harry blurted out. For a whole, silent minute he thought Malfoy would laugh in his face, or worse, walk away, but he just nodded. “Yes. There’s no music here though.”
“We can fix that.” Harry closed his eyes, searching his mind for the perfect song. Which would be the most romantic out of them all? Harry had never been a great singer, but it didn’t really matter now. “Wise men say only fools rush in,” Harry started to sing in a low voice, as Malfoy took his hand and brought it to his own waist, “but I can’t help falling in love with you.”
They twirled and swayed in a slow waltz all around the Christmas tree, while Harry half-sang, half-whispered the words to the song. “Like a river flows surely to the sea, darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be…”
Now the boring Ministry party was long forgotten, and Harry couldn’t comprehend how he’d ended up dancing with his former enemy, not to mention the man he was madly in love with. He only knew it was too late to go back now. Whatever happened, now Malfoy knew what Harry felt for him; at least, Harry wouldn’t have to pretend anymore. “Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can’t help falling in love with you.” He sang those last words, and they stopped, Harry feeling quite dizzy after twirling and waltzing.
Malfoy cleared his throat. “What song is that?”
“It’s a muggle song. Quite famous too.”
“It’s actually beautiful. Your dancing skills need improvement, but we can work with that.”
Harry laughed. “I knew you’d say that.”
Malfoy swallowed, biting his lip nervously. “Did you mean every word you sang?”
Harry nodded. “Every single one.”
Then he grabbed the hem of Malfoy’s jacket and pulled him into a kiss. It was so perfect it didn’t even seem real. It didn’t matter who they were right now; they were just too perfect for each other to care. If only they hadn’t waited so long to do this…
“Do my kissing skills need improvement as well?” Harry asked with a grin once they pulled apart.
Malfoy replied with another grin. “Not at all.”