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“This is a bad idea.”
“It’s too late to back out now.”
“Is it? Is it really?”
“Yes it – Draco! Give me that!”
The brief tussle over the patented (and improved) Weasley’s Skiving Snackbox doesn’t last long. Draco has a couple of inches on Harry, but Harry’s not above using a well-placed elbow to get his way. He wrenches the Snackbox away from Draco and slips it into the innermost pocket of his green robe, shooting Draco a glare. With his black hair mussed and his collar wrinkled, he looks more like an angry kitten. Draco can’t help smirking, which only deepens the glare.
“You’re the one who asked me to do this,” Harry says, attempting affront, but it’s mostly softened by the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “You’re the one who made the mistake of telling your mother that you’re engaged. And you’re the one who wanted a partner that your father couldn’t scare away – though why, I’m still not sure, as it would’ve given you the perfect out. No one would question your engagement being broken up by Lucius Malfoy.”
Draco shrugs, reaching out to adjust Harry’s collar so that he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. “It’s just easier this way,” he says finally. He doesn’t want to explain that Lucius had enough to deal with after the war. He avoided a conviction by the skin of his teeth; it’s been just over five years and people still give him a wide berth when he walks down Diagon Alley.
Then there’s the fact that Harry is the only person Draco really trusts to do this (and doesn’t that say something about the state of his life). Their engagement, fake as it is, will be sensational news before the night is through. Lucius Malfoy being the one to end their relationship? Lucius Malfoy breaking the heart of the wizarding world’s saviour? Yeah, at this point that might actually be worse than being labelled a Death Eater.
“Okay,” Harry says simply, and this is why Draco loves him. For all that Harry has been known to poke his nose in where it doesn’t belong, he’s also willing to let things go where it counts.
“Now come on. Pretend that you’re in love with me.”
Harry finally smiles. “You always did challenge me to do the impossible,” he teases. He moves to slide an arm through Draco’s, but Draco shifts at the last second so that they end up holding hands instead. Something jittery in his chest eases at the warm contact; he’s used to this to some degree, but facing down people who hold so much contempt for him and his family has never got easier. Having Harry at his side bolsters what little courage he has left.
They walk into the exquisitely decorated room together, and Draco actually feels a sense of pride when all eyes swing in their direction. He knows the announcement about their engagement has already been made, but this is proof. And it feels good to stand here next to Harry and not have to dodge around and meet after hours. It was necessary at first, because the public would not have responded well to seeing them interact, but now – maybe Harry’s right. Maybe it’s okay.
Lucius moves to meet them first. “Draco. Harry,” he says with genuine warmth. Draco scans his face quickly for signs of anger or tension, but there’s nothing. Not surprising. His father’s always wanted him to be friends with Harry. Engagement was probably beyond Lucius’s wildest dreams. It will be a blow when he hears that Draco and Harry are breaking up.
Not for the first time, doubt about this ludicrous scheme prickles up his spine. On the surface, it serves them both. Harry might not have a mother badgering him, but he does have the Weasley family and numerous other well-wishers who want to see him married, settled and – most importantly – happy. After it became clear that Harry and Ginny weren’t getting back together, Harry was promptly set upon by an endless of potential suitors. A break-up is the perfect excuse for him to not have to date for a while.
“Hello Father. Mother,” Draco adds, when Narcissa moves up beside Lucius. Looking at Narcissa’s frail smile, the doubt in his chest worsens.
Harry squeezes his hand tightly. “Lucius. Narcissa, you look lovely.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Narcissa teases lightly, pressing a light kiss to Harry’s cheek. Then she embraces Draco. “Congratulations, my dragon. I always knew you two would end up together,” she murmurs in Draco’s ear.
“What?” Draco says, maybe a little too loud from the way Harry looks at him, but Narcissa just smiles again and walks away with Lucius.
After that, it’s a dizzying whirlwind of red hair: all of the Weasleys stiffly congratulate them. The only ones who show any modicum of happiness are Ginny and Arthur. Molly looks a bit as though she wants to cry. And, of course, Ron and Hermione, who are the only people who know that Harry and Draco have been in increasingly close contact since the war. Ron just looks resigned, whereas Hermione has this smug upturn to her lips that Draco knows means trouble.
“Congratulations,” she says when Ron and Harry are preoccupied.
Draco frowns at her. “I don’t think you could sound less sincere if you tried.”
“Well, it’s not real, is it?”
“Keep your voice down!”
Hermione pats his arm but obligingly remains quiet. Draco finds himself watching Harry. He remembers how shocked he was, just days after the war, to receive the short, scribbled missive from Harry. He’d debated answering it, spent hours trying to figure out if it was some kind of a trap, before he finally gave into the impulse to respond. His response was much less pleasant, but that hadn’t stopped Harry from answering.
They’d exchanged letters for weeks, for months, before meeting in person. All of the emotions Draco had expected to feel – anger, frustration, hopelessness – were absent, replaced by significantly different feelings that have only deepened with time. Now, he can safely say that he’s officially in love with Harry Potter. Not only that, Draco is fake-engaged to the man and expecting to break up in less than a week.
He is an idiot.
“I am an idiot,” he says despairingly.
“I know,” Hermione says, patting his arm again. “Fortunately, Harry is too. You two are long overdue for a conversation.”
Draco shuts his eyes, the only sign of disquiet he’ll allow himself in a crowded ballroom. “You’re right. Make our excuses, would you, Granger?”
“Of course.”
He cuts through the crowd, coming up behind Harry and Ron. Knowing better than to touch Harry when Harry can’t see him coming, he swivels to the side until they can both see him. “Harry, a word?”
“Sure,” Harry says. “Catch up with you later, mate.” He claps Ron on the shoulder and follows Draco to the balcony.
It’s cool outside, but the air is marginally soothing. Nothing could calm down the racing tempo of Draco’s heart, though. His fingers are trembling. Thank Merlin that the balconies are already heavily warded against eavesdroppers, because he doesn’t think he has the composure necessary to casts any spells right now.
“Draco? Are you okay?”
“I can’t do this,” Draco blurts out, deliberately not looking at Harry. “I can’t. I’m sorry. It was a stupid idea.”
Harry is quiet for a moment. “What brought this on? Is something wrong?”
“No,” Draco mutters, even though the answer is yes. Honestly, he can’t pretend that he and Harry are dating or engaged. He was a fool to think that he could. It hurts too much. His masks are crumbling away, and he hasn’t even had to kiss Harry yet. His stomach flutters at the thought.
"Then what is it?"
Draco shakes his head. "It's nothing. I just can't. I thought – but then tonight I saw Mother and how happy she looks, and she’s going to be crushed when we stage our break-up, and I don’t want it to be fake. It’s not too late. We can call it off as a joke and pretend that we didn’t mean it. They’ll believe that, right?” He’s grasping at straws here, he knows, but what else is there to say?
"Well no, people don't usually joke about - wait, what did you mean when you said you didn't want it to be fake?"
Bloody hell. Draco suddenly regrets coming out onto the balcony to have this conversation. It's a long way down, and no matter how many softening charms he casts, it would still be a hard landing. And he knows without looking that Harry is blocking the only exit. "I didn't mean anything by it."
"It sure sounded like you meant something," Harry says, frustration colouring his voice. In the next instant, two hands drop onto Draco's shoulders. "What's going on? I knew you were acting weird lately, but I couldn't figure it out. And Hermione just smirks at me whenever I ask her. Is there something wrong? Are you mad at me? Do you... not want to be friends anymore?"
"No! Well, yes. No."
"Well thanks, that clears things right up. Will you look at me, at least?"
Reluctantly, Draco turns. Harry is way too close, but he's backed up against the railing so there's no where for him to go but over. He swallows hard. He's not brave enough for this. All of the words that have been building in the back of his head for months are gone, and he has no idea what to say. He's played out this scenario in his head dozens of times, but it's completely different when Harry is standing this close to him and it's so quiet and all of their family and friends are just on the other side of a wall celebrating their fake engagement.
Harry licks his lips. "I'm going to do something. I would appreciate if you didn't hex me."
"I won't," Draco croaks. His throat is very dry. He doesn't believe it's going to happen even when Harry begins to lean closer to him.
The kiss, if it can even be called that, is chaste; Harry barely brushes his lips against Draco before freezing, eyes locked onto Draco's and filled with uncertainty. Draco's body clicks into motion of its own accord, hands sliding around Harry's shoulders and firmly pulling him forward. He tips his chin down a fraction and there, the angle is perfect, and he slots their mouths together. It's all wet and heat for the best length of time, and Draco's dizzy with it, with the pressure of their lips and the occasional swipe of tongue, with the feel of Harry's hands on his back and the scent of vanilla in his nose and the hard edge of Harry's glasses digging into his cheek.
Draco breathes against him, turning his head to the side so that his lips brush against Harry's cheeks, and tries in vain to re-orient himself. "You kissed me."
"You kissed me back."
"I... Harry, what are we doing?"
"I don't know," Harry says honestly, lifting a hand to run it through Draco's hair. "But something tells me that if Hermione was here, she'd slap us both upside the head and tell us off for taking so long."
He chokes on a laugh, remembering the expression on Hermione's face, knowing that Harry's right. How long has she known? It must have killed her to stay quiet for so long. He hugs Harry tighter. When he's not looking at Harry, it becomes easier to speak. "I've wanted to kiss you for a long time."
"Since sixth year, for me," Harry admits.
Draco smiles. "Since fifth."
"That makes sense. That was the year you were stalking me."
"I wasn't stalking you. I just happened to be in the exact same place as you on a frequent basis."
Harry laughs. "Oh, is that what they call it?" he says, rumbles the words into Draco's ear, and Draco shivers a little. The magical lights lining the balcony twinkle, and he feels a sudden swoop of regret.
"We've wasted a lot of time," he says.
"You're right. I don't think we should waste any more."
"What?" Draco nearly stumbles when Harry takes an unexpected step back, staring as Harry gets down on one knee. "What the hell -"
"I'm sure there's a wizarding way of doing this, but frankly I've never looked into it," says Harry, neatly cutting him off. "And I don't want to wait through the lecture Hermione would undoubtedly give me if I asked. Draco, I've been obsessed with you since I was sixteen. Maybe even for longer than that. You helped me get through everything after the war. No one else understands me the way that you do. Sometimes it's all I can do to get through a day of teaching classes when I know that you're somewhere waiting for me, but I'd like to have that feeling every day because it's worth it when we're together again. Will you marry me?"
It's been a long time since Draco has been rendered speechless. His mouth opens and closes a few times. "But - Harry - are you -"
"Don't ask me if I'm sure. You have no idea just how certain I am. I never wanted to hide our friendship. That was your suggestion, and I went along with it because it seemed like that was what you wanted. I don't care what other people think of me. AAll the people who are important to me have already accepted you. Us." He takes Draco's hands, holding them gently, rubbing his thumb across Draco's pulse. "Please say yes."
As though there were any other answer Draco would give. "Yes."
Harry's face lights up in a beaming smile, and he stands up quickly, pulling Draco into another hug and kiss. "I'm sorry I don't have a ring. It never occurred to me." He huffs a laugh. "No wonder Ginny's been giving me funny looks all day."
"My mother too," Draco realizes and groans, slapping a hand to his face. Rings. How did they forget rings?
"We can buy them tomorrow," says Harry. "Now that we're really engaged, I'd like to go back in and enjoy the night. I can't stand dancing, but I love watching Ron pretend he can keep up with Hermione."
"First thing tomorrow," Draco agrees, unable to keep the foolish smile off of his face. For that, he won't even mind getting up early.
He and Harry walk back inside hand in hand, and it's like everyone can sense the difference. People keep looking at them and smiling, though Hermione's smile is still distinctly smug. Draco can't even find it in himself to care. He's wanted this for so long, and knowing that he has it - that he has Harry - doesn't even feel real. Like the moment on the balcony was just a dream, and tomorrow he'll wake up to find that he and Harry are still just fake engaged and planning to call it all off in a few days.
But then Harry comes back over to him and slings an arm around his shoulders, leans down to carefully give him a kiss in front of everyone, and Draco knows it's real, especially when Harry says loudly, "We're going ring shopping first thing tomorrow, Mrs. Malfoy."
A few heads turn in their direction. Narcissa's smile is beautiful. "That's excellent. Congratulations." She leans towards them slightly, dropping her voice conspiratorially as she says to Draco, "Your father owes me two galleons. I knew you'd end up engaged for real tonight. He bet that it wouldn't happen until next week."
Draco sputters. Harry just laughs.