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Harry couldn’t quite place exactly what it was, but there was definitely something different about Draco Malfoy this year.
And worse, Harry found himself strangely liking it (although he would never admit this to anyone). Maybe it was the inch or two he had gained over the summer. Maybe it was something different about his hair. Whatever it was, Harry couldn’t help himself. Like Draco was a magnet that he begrudgingly was become attracted to. No, that wasn’t right. Attracted? As if. Harry couldn’t be attracted to him. This was Draco Malfoy after all. His enemy, his rival, he was just...admirable. Yes that was it, Malfoy had changed and Harry just admired that change.
It all started on the train, making their way to Hogwarts for their fourth year. Harry was sitting with Ron and Hermione, discussing the events of the quidditch world cup, when Malfoy passed their compartment. Harry wouldn’t have noticed him at all if he had not turned towards them and ran a hand through his pale blonde hair, grinning menacingly, before cramming into the compartment right next to theirs with Crabbe and Goyle.
“Oh sod off Malfoy…” Ron grumbled to himself before taking another bite out of his chocolate frog.
“Just ignore him.” Hermione said sternly while she read her newspaper, not even glancing in Malfoy’s direction for a second.
Harry would’ve listened to her, but there was something nagging at his insides that told him inch closer to the doors to see what Malfoy was up to. He got up real close to the glass and stared into the one occupied by several slytherins.
“Why would I be lying about this?” he heard Malfoy say, voice not nearly as cold and sneering as it usually was “really did spend the whole summer in France. Beauxbatons academy offers a summer course for those aspiring to be the best. Plus mother says I need more opportunity to keep up with my French, seeing as how nobody at Hogwarts can speak it. No one that I’ve met anyway…”
Harry inched slowly back to where he was sitting next to Ron. Suddenly the thought of Draco Malfoy speaking elegant French was one he couldn’t get out of his mind the whole ride.
That had been two months ago, and unfortunately for Harry, things had only gotten worse since then.
When Malfoy teased him about all the petty things he normally did- Harry found himself getting increasingly flustered rather than angry. He probably would’ve made a fool out of himself more than once if it had not been for Ron or Hermione firing insults back at him. Harry wished he could shake this weird feeling he got every time he thought about the platinum-blonde slytherin, but it definitely wasn’t helping that the small growth spurt Malfoy had over the summer led to him always having his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as an attempt to hide the fact they were a little shorter than he had left them, exposing his forearms. Or the fact that Malfoy was spending almost all his time with students from Beauxbatons, speaking fluent french as they walked down corridors together.
"C'est moi où Potter est devenu plus attirant?" he heard him say to a french girl as they passed each other in the Great Hall.
"Salut, beauté!” Malfoy yelled at him with a smug grin.
He desperately wished he knew what he was saying so he could soffer up some retort, but instead Harry stood there, flustered as ever. It was truly a low point in his life, being bullied by Draco Malfoy, in French, and he couldn’t do anything about it because it made his insides tingle like a thousand butterflies floating around in his stomach.
And It wasn’t just the height difference or the french that messed with Harry’s head. It was the way Malfoy spoke now, the way he moved, the way he held himself with a much more careless elegance than before. He’d always prided himself on being proper, but the effect of the French looked so much nicer on him than the effect of his father. When he tried talking about these differences with Ron and Hermione, they apparently hadn’t noticed.
“Sorry I don’t spend my time staring at Malfoy all the time they way you do, mate” Ron rolled his eyes as he shoved another chunk of pie into his mouth. Harry scrambled to defend himself.
“Wha-no! I don’t- I don’t stare at him Ron...I just happen to observe him-” As Hermione gave him a questioning look, he knew he was making the situation worse. “He’s the one who always comes up to us in the first place! Always teasing us! You know- and frankly I’m surprised you two haven’t noticed! What if something was really up and you two let it happen because you were too busy studying...or eating!”
Hermione looked as if she was using every bit of her self-control not to laugh, but Harry didn’t realize what was so funny about the situation.
“Well alright Harry, I guess if it bothers you that bad we’ll pay attention to Malfoy.” Hermione said slowly, trying not to chuckle at each word.
“Yeah total surveillance- 24/7 actually!” Ron joked with her.
Harry rolled his eyes and went back to his dessert, not wanting to embarrass himself further by opening his mouth.
* * *
Harry stayed miserable for the next few weeks, which felt painfully long to him. His infatuation with Draco Malfoy getting worse every day. Part of him wanted to run up to Dumbledore’s office and demand he enter the tournament just so he could throw himself in harm's way during a task, and end his suffering. And yes he was truly suffering now, now that he had reluctantly admitted to himself that he, Harry James Potter, had an actual crush on Draco Lucius Malfoy.
In the following weeks, Professor McGonagall had announced that the school was indeed hosting a dance, the Yule Ball, with the three schools as a tradition to the Triwizard Tournament. At first, Harry didn’t think much of it, only that he knew it would be difficult to find a date. Something that Ron pointed out constantly.
“Alright Harry, we need to suck it up and find dates soon, before everyone has someone and we’re the last picks.”
“Right, but who even wants to go with us? No offence.”
“Truthfully, I’d go with Hermione, but she insists she already has a date. You think she’s bluffing?”
“Don’t know mate.” Harry admitted, but he could help but smile at the thought of Hermione being asked to the ball, she deserved it after all, she was amazing.
“Okay, let’s make a promise that we’ll find girls in the next two days, yeah?”
“Got it.” Harry’s insides turned. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to pluck up the courage to actually ask a girl to the ball, despite the “gryffindor bravery” he was always told he had. He picked up his bag and exited the classroom with Ron.
It wasn’t until a few days later that the opportunity actually came up.
The stone steps that led up to the owlery were particularly icy today. He watched every step to avoid slipping, but apparently didn’t notice a figure coming down the steps, and ran into them.
“Woah!” they shouted.
“Sorry” he mumbled, before picking his head up and realizing the figure was Draco Malfoy. However, Draco must've not been paying attention either, as he seemed surprised that Harry was there. When the surprise faded from his face, a haughty smirk took its place
“Watch yourself, Potter” he muttered, biting his lip, and turning to walk down a step backwards.
Harry sighed and walked up to enter the owlery, but still slightly fazed by the interaction, he turned and called back to Malfoy. Malfoy looked a bit confused, but tried not to show it.
“Hey Draco, so I was wondering...” Harry had the overwhelming urge to scream. Was he really about to do this? Was he really about to give up all his dignity on a stupid crush and a few moments of courage?
“Yeah?” Malfoy responded, a little too eagerly.
“I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to the ball with me tomorrow night?” He had done it. He had really done it. There was no turning back now. For a few horrifying seconds he thought Malfoy was going to spit in face and walk away, but then-
“I like the idea…” Malfoy smirked, licking his lips and staring into Harry’s eyes, “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow night then.” And just like that, he was gone, not giving Harry a moment to respond. He turned into the entrance of the owlery, eyes widening at the realization of what he had just done. He was going to the ball with Draco Malfoy. Gryffindor’s golden boy and the slithering snake of Slytherin together, dancing. Ron is going to kill me he thought horrifyingly, they’re all going to kill me
* * *
It was already quarter to eight and Harry stood, petrified, in front of his mirror. A thousand thoughts about whether or not he looked good enough and whether or not Draco would try to speak to him in french flooded his mind before being interrupted by Ron’s entrance.
“I look horrible, Harry!” Ron shouted. Harry wanted to reassure him that he looked fine, but he wasn’t sure he’d have the heart to lie to his face. His dress robes looked a hundred years old with all the lace and frills and mismatching patterns.
“Least one of us looks decent,” Ron continued to grumble, “wish mum had sent me dress robes like yours.”
“So you think I look okay?” Harry questioned.
“Yeah I’m sure your date- whoever she is- will like you just fine. You never did tell me who she was though Harry? Why are you keeping it a secret?"
Harry remembered feeling breathless the night he came into the common room, assuring Ron that he did in fact have a date. When he and a few other gryffindors questioned who however, Harry mumbled that they wouldn’t know them, before quickly heading to his bed and falling asleep.
“Yeah well, it doesn’t matter, we’re almost late and we need to get down there.” he said, giving Ron a pat on the back, and turning to the exit of the dormitories.
He and Ron left the common room together, and on the other side were both of their dates. Padma Patil was look astonishing in her pink and orange dress robes, her face showing clear disturbance as she eyed Ron’s outfit. But Ron wasn’t even looking in her direction. His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head when he saw Draco standing there.
“Harry…” Ron whispered to him, “please tell me that your date is around the corner...please tell me Malfoy’s only here to hex you or something.”
Harry turned, with great anxiety, and faced his friend to explain, but no words were coming out of his mouth.
“My, my Potter...you clean up nicely.” Draco was eying him up and down, looking as suave as ever.
He and Ron walked towards their dates. Padma muttered something under her breath and grabbed Ron’s arm to pull him away, but Ron still stared at Harry as if he were trying to wake up from a nightmare. A nightmare in which his best friend and worst enemy were currently attending a ball- as dates.
Harry had been so distracted by Ron’s reaction he hadn’t even looked at Draco properly. All the breath had been stolen from Harry’s lungs as he stared at Draco standing in perfect dress robes, white blonde hair perfectly styled, sparkling white teeth grinning, and his lips looking slightly more pink (not that he had ever noticed the shade of Malfoy’s lips before of course).
“If you’re going to look like that all night- I think I’d rather leave.” Malfoy sneered.
“Sorry you just- you look very nice.”
“Not so bad yourself Potter...but really we are going to be late if we don’t hurry- and Malfoys are never late.”
They linked arms and walked towards the Great Hall in silence. When they arrived everyone turned their heads to look at the scene. A few even shook their heads and blinked, as though they couldn’t fathom the sight of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, arms linked, and both enjoying it. Even Professor McGonagall did a double take before returning to getting the champions lined up for their dance. Before he and Draco entered the Great Hall together, he looked back at the champions as was surprised to see Hermione with Viktor Krum, only she didn’t look like Hermione, but more like a goddess instead, with her pink dress robes shining elegantly. Draco rolled his eyes when he saw what Harry was fixated on.
“Yeah we get it Harry- Granger looks stunning and she’s hooking up with Bulgaria's most famous teenager. I’m not surprised, now can we move on?”
Harry smiled a little at Draco and entered into what was once the Great Hall, now transformed into an icy ballroom. He couldn’t believe his luck, unless it wasn’t luck and a curse in disguise instead, he was at a dance with Draco Malfoy, once his enemy, now his object of desire. As the music started up he grabbed Draco’s waist and hand and moved rhythmically to the tune. Draco was not only good, he was an expert at dancing, Harry learned. As they waltzed to the tune, his green eyes met Draco’s grey ones.
“You’re lucky you know how to dance decently, Potter, or else I’d ditch you.” Draco said softly as the swayed, “because I gave up going with Pansy to go with you, and her and I dance rather eloquently together.”
Harry blushed furiously. Draco Malfoy gave up his date to go with me he thought, and the thought filled him up with so much happiness he felt like collapsing, before realizing that he still needed to maintain dignity because, he was Harry freaking Potter, and anyone, especially Malfoy would be lucky to have him. Confidence surged through his body as he grasped Draco’s hand a little tighter, and together they swayed to the music all night long.