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After finishing a dance with Ginny, Harry stepped away from the dance floor.
He leaned against one of the tables, slowly sipping butterbeer. Later, Ron handed him a glass of Firewhisky, insisting that they were adults now and ought to try something stronger.
Ron had clearly intended to say more, but Hermione dragged him away before he could. As she left, she made Harry promise not to listen to any of Ron’s nonsense.
Harry laughed as he watched them disappear into the crowd.
Then he took a sip of the Firewhisky.
The sharp burn made him wince, but the warmth that lingered afterward tempted him into another drink.
And another.
Before long, the glass was empty.
A faint flush spread across his face.
His thoughts grew pleasantly hazy.
Without realizing it, his gaze drifted toward the center of the ballroom.
Toward the person everyone seemed to be watching.
Even through the sea of people, Harry spotted him immediately.
The dark green robes swept outward as their owner turned, tracing a graceful arc that looked almost like the hem of a girl’s gown.
As Draco moved, the ribbon loosely tying back his hair slipped free.
His long hair spilled through the air like a waterfall.
With an effortless motion, he caught the ribbon before it could fall.
For a moment, Harry thought he was seeing her again.
The Slytherin girl.
That was what he thought.
What he truly believed.
With the alcohol clouding his judgment, Harry rose to his feet and started walking.
His steps were slightly unsteady.
Still, he pushed through the crowd and stopped directly in front of Draco.
He stared.
Almost mesmerized.
A voice deep inside him kept whispering the same thing.
It’s her.
The girl you’ve never forgotten.
It’s always been her.
Everyone assumed Cho Chang had been Harry’s first love.
She wasn’t.
At least not in Harry’s heart.
The person he had never forgotten was someone he had spent only a single night with.
A Slytherin girl.
She was the reason Harry had begun to believe that not every Slytherin was a bad person.
The reason he had chosen to treat Draco more kindly after the war.
Partly out of gratitude.
Partly because of a private feeling he had never fully understood.
Draco couldn’t understand why Harry had suddenly appeared in front of him and was staring so intensely.
Instinct told him something was wrong.
Harry’s cheeks were redder than usual, but otherwise he seemed fine.
Just as Draco was about to ask what was going on, Harry stopped him.
One finger pressed lightly against Draco’s lips.
Draco’s mind went completely blank.
What did that even mean?
“May I have this dance?”
Harry stepped back slightly and gave what was, in Draco’s opinion, a terribly executed bow.
It was nowhere near a proper invitation.
And yet Draco accepted immediately.
“Of course.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Draco placed his hand in Harry’s.
Harry closed his fingers around it and led the platinum rose onto the dance floor.
Their movements fell naturally into rhythm with the music.
A turn sent Draco’s robes flaring outward.
The silver embroidered constellation Draco shimmered brilliantly beneath the ballroom lights.
His platinum hair flowed through the air behind him.
In Harry’s lake green eyes, there was no one else.
Only Draco.
Harry smiled.
More brightly than he had while dancing with Ginny.
For a moment, it felt as though he had returned to fourth year.
Back to the night when that Slytherin girl had appeared before him like an angel.
Back to the lonely corner where she had found him.
She had been elegant.
Graceful.
Layers of dark green fabric decorated with silver stars.
Golden hair tied with matching ribbons.
A silver chain at her throat holding a green gemstone.
Pearls wrapped around both wrists.
Dark green velvet heels.
Every inch of her had radiated the quiet confidence of an aristocratic pure blood witch.
Harry had been unable to refuse her.
Even though she had been a Slytherin.
They had danced together.
Then Harry had taken her hand and led her away from the ball.
Out to the Black Lake.
Under the moonlight.
Beside the shimmering water.
They had danced until exhaustion forced them to stop.
Then sat together beneath a tree.
Neither of them speaking.
Harry had loved every second of it.
The night breeze.
The scent of her perfume.
The silence between them.
Everything.
*
Harry blinked himself back to the present.
The blurry figure before him came into focus.
It’s her.
Blue eyes.
Golden hair.
Dark green fabric.
A matching ribbon.
It had to be.
*
One dance became another.
Then another.
Draco refused to think about tomorrow.
Refused to think about what people would say.
All he knew was that Harry had chosen him.
Harry had asked him to dance.
And both of them were enjoying it.
When another song ended, Harry kept hold of Draco’s hand.
Then, in full view of the entire ballroom, he led him away.
Out of the dance.
Out of the celebration.
Out of the Great Hall.
*
At first Harry walked quickly.
By the time they reached the corridors, he was practically running.
Draco had to jog just to keep up.
Soon both of them were laughing and sprinting through the castle.
Wind rushed past Harry’s ears.
The sound made him grin.
It felt just like that night.
The night he had run through these halls holding the Slytherin girl’s hand.
As though every burden had been left behind.
As though nothing could restrain him anymore.
He glanced over his shoulder.
Draco was breathing hard.
Platinum hair streamed behind him.
His gray blue eyes sparkled.
Harry saw trust there.
Pure trust.
Just like before.
The girl had never questioned him.
Draco wasn’t questioning him now.
Both had simply followed him without hesitation.
Harry laughed.
His heart was racing.
Whether from running or something else, he wasn’t entirely sure.
They didn’t stop until they reached the Black Lake.
Beneath the silver moonlight, they stood facing one another beneath a tree.
Slowly catching their breath.
Gradually, their breathing fell into the same rhythm.
Neither spoke.
They simply looked at each other.
Harry loved Draco’s eyes.
Draco loved Harry’s.
One held an entire galaxy.
The other resembled deep, endless water.
Their breaths drew closer.
And closer.
Until their foreheads nearly touched.
Until their noses brushed.
Draco stared into those unfocused green eyes.
His heartbeat spiraled completely out of control.
“Harry…”
The night wind swept across the lake.
At last, the haze of alcohol began to lift.
Harry blinked.
The blue eyes slowly became gray blue.
Golden hair turned silver beneath the moonlight.
The dark green skirt became a wizard’s formal robe.
The embroidered Draco constellation gleamed softly.
The delicate features sharpened.
Became familiar.
Became unmistakable.
Draco…
It was Draco.
Not her.
Draco…
Harry stumbled backward as though burned.
Distance suddenly separated them.
He stood frozen in place.
Head lowered.
Unable to look at Draco.
Unable to explain.
Unable to understand what he had almost done.
Harry barely remembered how he got back to Gryffindor Tower.
One moment he was standing by the Black Lake.
The next, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the floor.
Ron had asked him several questions.
Harry wasn’t sure if he answered any of them.
“Mate.”
A pillow hit him in the face.
Harry looked up.
Ron was standing across the room with his arms folded.
“You’ve been sitting there for ten minutes.”
“Have I?”
“Yes.”
Ron narrowed his eyes.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s a lie.”
Harry sighed.
Unfortunately, Ron knew him far too well.
For a while he considered telling Ron everything.
The dance.
The lake.
Almost kissing Draco.
The fact that he’d mistaken him for someone else.
Then he imagined Ron’s reaction.
Immediately decided against it.
“Just tired.”
Harry finally settled on.
Ron looked unconvinced.
Very unconvinced.
But before he could continue interrogating him, Hermione appeared in the doorway.
“Good.”
She looked relieved.
“You’re both here.”
“What happened?”
Harry asked.
Hermione held up a piece of parchment.
“I found something interesting.”
Harry took the parchment.
The moment he saw the handwriting, he froze.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Delicate.
The exact same handwriting he had seen on Draco’s notes earlier that day.
His heartbeat accelerated.
Just a little.
“Where did you get this?”
Hermione blinked.
“In the library archives.”
“Why?”
“I was researching old student records.”
She frowned.
“Harry, are you listening?”
He wasn’t.
Not really.
Because he recognized the handwriting.
The note was old.
Years old.
The edges had yellowed with age.
The ink had faded slightly.
Yet the writing remained unmistakable.
Thank you for the dance.
Harry stared.
Then read it again.
And again.
And again.
“Harry?”
Hermione sounded concerned now.
“What is it?”
Harry swallowed.
His mouth had suddenly gone dry.
“Where exactly did you find this?”
Hermione glanced down at the note.
“Oh. That?”
“It was tucked inside an old library book.”
She shrugged.
“I thought it was someone’s forgotten bookmark.”
Harry felt dizzy.
Because he remembered this note.
Not the paper itself.
The words.
Years ago.
Fourth year.
The morning after the Yule Ball.
A note had appeared beside his bed.
Folded carefully.
Written in elegant handwriting.
Only a single sentence.
Thank you for the dance.
For years Harry had assumed it came from the mysterious Slytherin girl.
For years he had carried that memory with him.
And now he was staring at the exact same handwriting he had seen on Draco’s parchment only hours earlier.
“No.”
Harry stood abruptly.
The movement startled both Ron and Hermione.
“No, that’s impossible.”
Because if it wasn’t impossible…
Then there was only one explanation.
The girl from fourth year.
The person he had spent years searching for.
The person he thought he’d found tonight.
Had been Draco all along.
Harry’s heart stopped.
Then started again.
Much faster than before.
Every memory crashed together at once.
The dark green robes.
The silver stars.
The ribbon.
The familiar eyes.
The familiar voice.
The familiar way Draco had looked at him tonight.
Not because Draco resembled the girl.
Because Draco was the girl.
Or rather…
The person Harry had mistaken for a girl.
“Harry?”
Ron sounded alarmed.
“You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Harry ignored him.
His thoughts were moving too quickly.
Too chaotically.
The dance.
The Black Lake.
The disappointment he’d felt when Draco walked away.
Suddenly none of it seemed confusing anymore.
Because the person he had been searching for wasn’t gone.
Had never been gone.
He had been sitting beside Harry in the library.
Arguing with him in corridors.
Bringing him potion in the Hospital Wing.
Looking at him with those gray blue eyes.
For months.
Harry covered his face with both hands.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance.
Neither of them had any idea what was happening.
Harry did.
At least partly.
And somehow that realization was even more terrifying.
Because if Draco really was the person from that night…
Then the question Harry had been avoiding suddenly became impossible to ignore.
Why was I so happy dancing with him?
And an even worse question followed immediately after.
Why do I want to do it again?
The room fell silent.
Outside the window, snow drifted slowly past the castle towers.
For the first time in years, Harry felt as though he had finally found the answer he’d been searching for.
Unfortunately, that answer raised far more questions than it solved.