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It was a beautiful day with warm sunlight bathing the streets in honey―a rare day in London, a city where people saw rain more often than not. There wasn’t even a strip of clouds in the blue sky. The wind was gentle and fresh. It was a day that made people want to get out of their houses for a walk.
It would have been a very good day if only Pansy could keep her mouth from running.
“Draco, look!” exclaimed Pansy, grabbing Draco’s robe to pull him towards her. They were having tea in Millie’s Tea Atelier― a newly opened tea parlour that was rising in fame in the Diagon Alley and, as its name suggested, was owned by Millicent Bulstrode. Looking at Millie, no one would think she had such a delicate hobby as brewing tea, but Millie was actually the girliest one in their circle of friends.
“I only bought this robe yesterday! Don’t wrinkle it!” shouted Draco indignantly, trying to save his new clothes from Pansy’s vise-like grip. It was Italian silk, for Merlin’s sake. If it got ruined, he’s damn sure going to charge Pansy for compensation!
Pansy, the wrench, dared to roll her eyes at him. “Whatever. Just come over here, you ponce. You have to see this!”
Draco squeaked when she pulled his robe with even more force while waving The Daily Prophet. To be honest, Draco didn’t know why Pansy still read that rag. It rarely contained any valuable information on the politics and economy, and if Pansy wanted fashion advice and gossip, surely the Witch Weekly would be a better option?
Deciding letting Pansy get her way was a better solution to protect his new robe, Draco leaned over to look at the newspaper in her hand. “What is so important that you have to destroy my robe for it? Did Celestina Warbeck change her lover again? Or is the Minister of Magic going to retire—” His eyes went wide when he noticed a headline on the celebrity page. “Harry Potter is GAY?!”
Never in his life had Draco thought Potter could be gay, considering the git had only ever dated girls. Well, maybe Draco had fantasised that Potter had interests in men when they were at Hogwarts, but it was only one or two times, so it didn’t count. Anyway, Draco had always thought that Potter would go on his merry way and marry the Weaselette, popping out a horde of ginger half-pints. They hadn’t been together since after the War, but he thought they would one day. Everyone thought so.
“He is. Interesting, right?” said Pansy with a wolfish grin. “People kept saying that he was going to marry the Littlest Weasley but I knew he wasn’t straight!”
“This is certainly a scandal, but not to the point that you have to ruin my robe,” Draco sniffed, pretending not to care. I mean, Draco himself had no interest in men himself, so why should he care if Potter was gay?
“Stop focusing on the trivial, dear,” said Pansy dismissively, pointing at the article. “Don’t you see that this is your big chance?”
“Excuse me! It’s Italian silk! It’s not trivial!” protested Draco, outraged before frowning. “What do you mean this is my ‘big chance’ ?”
“To get Potter, of course.”
Draco made the mistake of sipping his tea before Pansy had finished her sentence, so naturally, when she did, he choked on his tea. If his public image was ruined because of this, it would be all Pansy’s fault!
“ What?!” yelped Draco when his coughing had subsided. “I must have misheard. Could you repeat that for me?”
“Oh, come on, Draco!” Pansy said in an exasperated voice. “You have been pining after him forever! This is the time for you to go and grab the man!”
“ Me? Pining after Potter?! ” spluttered Draco. “I’m not even gay!”
He had always known Pansy was touched in the head, but she couldn’t be that bad! How the hell could she suggest him chasing after Potter?! Draco was, after all, the straightest man in England! No, scratch that. He was the straightest man in the entire world. He might not have dated anyone since his fumble with Pansy in Fourth Year, but it was because there was no girl worthy of him, not because he was gay !
“You’re not gay?” Pansy raised her eyebrow doubtfully.
“Of course I’m not! You are my ex! You know it best!” shouted Draco, slamming his hands on the table to make his point clearer. It was another mistake of his, since the shaking of the table made his half-full teacup fall and spill its contents on his robe. Draco immediately performed a cleaning charm on it, but he doubted it was enough. He was definitely going to make Pansy pay for the robe!
Pansy calmly sipped her tea, ignoring Draco’s glare at her. “It’s because I’m your ex that I know you are gay.”
“I’m not—”
Draco’s protest was cut short by a voice coming from behind him. “What are you chatting about so animatedly?” Millicent smiled, carrying a plate of biscuits. She placed it on their table and sat down in a chair between Draco and Pansy. “On the house.”
“You’re an angel, Millie!” Draco chirped, throwing a chocolate biscuit in his mouth. He groaned with satisfaction. This was the reason he liked Millie’s shop.
“So what are we talking about?” Millie inquired curiously, glancing between Draco and Pansy―who also bit into a biscuit after thanking Millie.
“Nothing. Pansy was just talking nonsense—“
“Draco said he wasn’t gay,” Pansy cut in, waving her teacup in Draco’s direction.
“Because I’m no—”
“He said what ?!” Millie exclaimed. “But he is obviously gay! ”
“Who is obvious—”
“That’s the problem,” Pansy sighed, shaking her head.
“ What is the prob—“
“Oh, Draco.” To Draco’s horror, Millie put her hand on Draco’s left hand while Pansy grabbed his right one. Millie’s voice was full of sympathy. “You don’t need to hide. We all know you are gay.”
“She’s right. We don’t mind that you’re gay so you don’t need to lie to us,” said Pansy gently, despite her not-so-gentle grasp on Draco.
“Is anyone going to let me finish my sentence today?!” Draco scowled, pulling his hands out of the girls’. “Also, thank you for your concern but I’m not gay!”
“But Draco—”
“If you don’t have anything more useful to say, then, excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to.” He stood up, stomping towards the entrance.
Damn Pansy and Millicent. He wasn’t gay!
(*)
“So, I heard Pansy say the other day that you thought you weren’t gay?”
Draco was so startled by Blaise’s sudden question that he almost jumped out of his chair. The barber yelled in surprise but fortunately for Draco, he was quick enough to pull his scissors back before they could do any serious damage to Draco’s hair.
Draco knew he should have just forced Blaise to give him the address of the barber that styled his latest hairstyle instead of going there with the black haired man. After all, it wasn’t like Blaise had anything to do except read fashion magazines and flirt with any women he saw at the barber’s.
“What the fuck, Blaise? Are you trying to make me bald ?!” Draco hissed angrily but didn’t dare to turn his head to glare at Blaise, lest his hair be cut wrong. “Also, I’m not gay!”
Blaise, the fucker, snickered. “I think you check out far too many men’s arses for a straight man.”
Draco gripped his chair’s armrests to keep himself from turning to glare at Blaise. His hair was more important. “ When?! I have never done so!”
“You have never ?” Surprisingly, it wasn’t Blaise but the barber who voiced his opinion.
“What do you mean?” Draco glared at the barber in the mirror. Finally, there was someone he could glare at without risking his precious hair.
“Well, I just thought I saw you check mine out when you came in,” the barber shrugged, his hands moving in a flourish, cutting some more strands of blonde hair. “Thought that we could grab a pint later. But maybe I was wrong.” He didn’t sound like he believed he was wrong at all.
Draco was so stunned that he couldn’t say anything. From beside him, Blaise whistled.
Now that Draco looked closer, the barber was quite handsome. He had brown hair and gentle blue eyes. He was also quite tall and had broad shoulders. Not many muscles but—
Draco mentally shook his head to clear the thoughts (mentally, because right now he didn’t dare do so physically). After all, Draco wasn’t gay!
“So I see you have a date tonight?” From the corner of his eyes, Draco could see Blaise smirking.
“I don’t! Didn’t I already say that I’m not gay?” Draco denied it a bit too vehemently to be convincing.
“Too bad,” the barber sighed, returning to his work.
“Come on, Draco, don’t be like that,” said Blaise, this time his voice tinged with real concern. Draco hated that voice. “I’m trying to be a good friend here. I don’t care whom you date. None of us care. Whether it’s a man or a woman, we wouldn’t bat an eyelash. So you don’t have to hide your sexuality from us.”
“And I’m saying that I am not gay,” Draco gritted out, his knuckles white on the chair’s armrests. “So shut up!”
“Your hair is done!” the barber yelled cheerfully, clearly wanting to get out of the upcoming quarrel. “What do you think?”
“ Fine! ” growled Draco. His hair looked good, but he could hardly find any joy in the current situation.
“Then you only need to check the bill with the cashier. I’m off!”
The barber actually ran away. Draco glared at his back nonetheless.
Draco stood up, heading straight to the cashier. “Now that we are done here, I think it’s time to go home. I have an appointment with Mother this afternoon.” He lied. There was no appointment with Mother that afternoon—after all, he had been planning to have a haircut and then go shopping with Blaise, but Draco didn’t think he could stand his friend one more moment.
“Draco! Wait!” Blaise immediately followed him. He caught up to Draco before he could get out of the shop. “Let’s talk!”
“I don’t think there is anything to talk about!” Draco scowled, dodging Blaise’s grasp.
“I’m telling the truth! We don’t mind that you’re gay!” Blaise, Merlin cursed the man, was taller than Draco and so had longer legs than Draco did. It didn’t take him more than two steps to catch up to Draco again despite Draco’s nearly running pace. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay!”
“My father would disagree,” sneered Draco without sparing his friend a glance.
“Your father thought joining You-Know-Who was wise!” Blaise shouted frustratedly before realising what he just said and covering his mouth.
Draco swiftly turned back. “What did you say?” he fumed. All of his friends knew that Lucius Malfoy’s involvement with the Dark Lord was Draco’s sore spot. “Care to repeat that?”
Blaise slumped back, regret clear on his face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” He swallowed as if to gather courage, and then shouted, “Still, Draco, stop letting your father decide how you live your life!”
Blaise’s words hit Draco like a punch in the gut. It was another sore topic of Draco: the lack of control over his own life. Even after the War and narrowly escaping Azkaban, Lucius Malfoy was still determined to set up Draco’s life for him, and Draco still couldn’t go against his father’s orders. One of his dictums was to marry a pureblood witch and produce an heir. He was pretty sure his father had already gathered a list of bride candidates for him.
“ Fuck you, Zabini!” Draco bristled, pulling out his wand.
Blaise narrowed his eyes. “What are you going to do? Hex me? You know that you are still on probation and it will land you in a Ministry’s cell, Malfoy! ”
Draco growled but holstered his wand. Blaise was right. It was more than a year since the War, but Draco’s probation wouldn’t end for half a year more. If he got into any fights in public, he would surely be carted to jail in an instant.
However, he wasn’t sure he could look at Blaise for one more second without hitting him.
“Draco,” Blaise extended his hand towards Draco, voice no longer angry. It made Draco even more furious.
“ Fuck you!” Draco swore, and Disapparated.
(*)
After the war, everyone was eager to start anew and forget what happened. And as time passed, things had mostly returned to what they had been before the war. Mostly.
There were always things that, once occurred, could not be undone. Like the Malfoy family's reputation. Well, it's not like they had ever been considered good. They were, at most, dubious. However, never had their reputation been smeared with mud like right now.
Which was painfully obvious whenever Draco stepped foot in Diagon Alley.
Even after all the talks of forgiveness and letting bygones be bygones, most people still looked at Draco as if he were the filthiest trash whenever they saw him in the street.
Occasionally, some would even stop him in his tracks to pick a fight with him. Draco didn’t mind the fights; they were certainly troublesome, but he wasn’t someone who shied from them, and to be honest, he kind of agreed he deserved it. What he hated most about the fights was when the Aurors came to rescue Draco. Draco didn’t understand why they did it, especially when many of them looked like they would rather join the assaulters. However, apparently, it was their job to ensure the peace so they had no choice but to interfere. Draco wished they wouldn’t. Being beaten into a pulp in public was humiliating enough, he didn’t want to suffer Potter’s pitying eyes.
The hilarious part was they weren’t the worst. It was the one who doubled back to take a second look at Draco―not with disgust but genuine surprise―that irked Draco the most.
They stared and stared. As if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing, whom they were seeing, as if they couldn’t understand how Draco dared to show his face after everything. Their silent stares said more than the fights ever did. The fights never made him want to turn tail and run away the way the stares did. Nor did they make him want to cry.
It always took two mugs of his mother’s hot chocolate to lure him out of his room after an encounter with the stares. Sometimes, Draco hated his sweet tooth. Drinking a whole bottle of whisky the way Pansy did sounded much more mature. Blaise said he would have both Draco and Pansy’s guts if Draco caught Pansy’s alcoholism though, so maybe it was a good thing Draco got addicted to hot chocolate instead. At the very least, the chocolate he was addicted to was top-quality, Belgian chocolate.
Anyway, more often than not, Draco had bad experiences on his trips to Diagon Alley. He still went there though. He refused to avoid it altogether like his father did. Draco was a coward, but not that much of a coward.
Right now, he rather regretted his decision. He knew bravery rarely brought any good.
“I didn’t know you liked that kind of book.” Potter’s voice suddenly rang out from behind Draco, and it was only his manners which kept him from embarrassing himself by jumping a foot into the air and shrieking like a little girl in public.
And here he had thought today was a rare, peaceful day. No one had spat on him or insulted him since morning. Counted on Potter to pop in and ruin everything.
“Potter,” spat Draco with as much hatred as he could muster, while trying to subtly hide the cover of the romance novel he was reading from Potter’s sight. It was too late though.
“Never thought you were a fan of something like romance.” Potter’s amused voice, as a matter of fact, didn’t give Draco any peace of mind.
Shit. He got caught.
Calm down, Draco. At least Potter hadn’t found out every―
“Especially gay love,” added Potter with a smirk.
Damn .
All of a sudden, Draco remembered all the reasons why he hated Potter. Being insufferably cheeky was certainly on the top of that list.
“What do you think of it?” asked Potter, interrupting Draco’s silent cursing.
“Of what?” snapped Draco, clenching his fist, ready to throw a punch.
“Gay love,” Potter raised his eyebrow as if it was obvious. “Are you interested in it or do you think it unnatural―”
“Nothing. I think nothing of it,” Draco shouted, a bit too quick and loud to be convincing. “I don’t care if a man likes another man. Not that it has anything to do with me, after all,” he added after realising his mistake.
Whether it was because Potter got caught off guard by Draco’s answer or that he was surprised by how Draco practically screamed it, Potter didn’t say anything. Instead, he stared at Draco like he had seen him for the first time. It made Draco feel so nervous that he couldn’t help fidgeting.
After minutes of total silence, Potter whispered, “You don’t think it’s disgusting.” And then, he smiled so brightly that Draco had to avert his gaze. “Hey, are you free this―”
“I have to go! Now !" Draco yelled, pushing the book into Potter’s chest in a panic―which Potter curled his hands around instinctively, and then proceeded to walk as fast as he could without resorting to running out of the bookshop.
“Wait―” Potter called, confusion colouring his voice. Draco didn’t wait to hear what Potter wanted to say though.
Was Potter flirting with him? No way. Potter must only have wanted to talk to someone whom he thought had the same inclinations as he did. Someone who was also gay. Which Draco wasn’t.
Draco had better get out of here. Fast.
(*)
Out of all of Draco’s outings with his friends, he enjoyed dinners with Theo the most.
Theo had excellent taste―which meant the food and wine were always more than good, and out of their circle of friends, he often was the most sympathetic and understanding one. Or rather, he was the best at keeping his opinions to himself.
However, it seemed his thoughtful manners were either taking a day off or ripped out by Pansy’s brutish hands. Considering the two were dating, it was probably the latter. Which also meant Draco couldn’t tempt Theo’s conscience to wake the fuck up.
Well, to be fair, Theo wasn’t that bad. Didn’t have to mean Draco was comfortable with it though.
“Are you okay? I heard you got into a fight with Blaise,” asked Theo in the middle of the main course―which was so good that Draco couldn’t just stand up and walk away like he would with the appetiser. That must be why the bastard chose that moment to mention the topic.
“Are you here to tell me I’m gay too?” Draco glared, the scallops in his dish suddenly looking less delicious.
Theo shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, I wouldn’t be so crude. But Blaise did make a good point. We don’t care if you like men or women.”
“Because being gay is right as rain?” Draco sneered.
Theo, the git, had the gall to laugh. “That. And because we are your friends.”
Theo’s words made something in Draco’s throat catch. Without his permission, his brain winded back the conversation with Potter the other day.
Stop it! He admonished himself. Don’t go down that road. You know what would happen if you do.
Draco’s gaze caught on the watch on his wrist—the one his father ordered specially for Draco’s 17th birthday. The one which Lucius had risked the little power he had left to have delivered to Draco in the middle of the war.
Draco’s heart ached.
“I can’t understand you guys. Why are you so bent on making me gay?” asked Draco while stabbing his food viciously. He knew it was petty and bad manners, but he needed to direct his pent-up anger somewhere.
Theo must also think it was not very impressive, for it caused him to roll his eyes heavenwards. “We don’t want to make you gay.” Then, he started to explain patiently in the manner which was usually reserved for talking to a five-year-old child. “What we want is for you to know that we are ok with you being gay. As you should be too.”
“Rubbish!” shouted Draco. Normally he would try to keep his volume down, but today he just felt too tired to play the role of the mild-mannered aristocratic son.
Everyone kept saying the same thing. As if it was the obvious truth. As if it wasn’t what they had always been taught to despise.
Theo stared at Draco, then sighed. “Denying who you are won’t do you any good, Draco,” he whispered, in a voice so soft that Draco had to accept it was genuine, no matter how much he wanted it to be otherwise.
Still, Draco had no plans of backing down.
“And trying to get what we want at any cost is better?”
Their minds immediately wandered to the War.
Theo winced. “Not at any cost .” However, he didn’t seem to plan on backing down either. “But yeah, anything is better than denying yourself.”
“I don’t think so,” Draco huffed. Damn Theo and his stubbornness. No wonder he was the only one who could keep Pansy’s interest for more than 3 months. “Anyway, I’m not gay, so me saying I’m not gay isn’t denying who I am.”
Theo groaned, then grumbled. "Whatever suits you. Tell Pansy I tried.”
“I won’t,” Draco pouted, pushing the dish aside in favour of the wine. Distantly, he could hear Theo chuckle.
This was the best part of spending time with someone who had a lick of sense in them. No matter how much tension between Theo and Draco, it could always be dissipated easily. Sometimes Draco thought he could fall for Theo. Except that Theo was straight.
They were both straight, damn it!
“Just know that we will always stay with you whether you are straight or gay,” said Theo gently, sipping his glass of wine.
Draco grumbled but didn’t object.
(*)
"Isn't that Potter?"
Draco looked up in reflex at Greg's words. It was indeed Potter, flounced by his two sidekicks, walking as if they owned the street, with his horrible hair and horrible clothes. Merlin, people would think that guy was a beggar with how he dressed. Could a person be that blind to his own appearance?
"And what's so special about Potter?" Draco snorted, pretending to be nonchalant.
"But... it's Potter ," muttered Greg, not seeming to understand why Draco could be indifferent toward the mention of Potter. Draco couldn't blame him, considering how he had dragged Greg and Vince around to prank Potter at school. He still wished Greg didn't look that bewildered though.
"It's just Potter," shrugged Draco, sipping his coffee.
Greg made a face. "You know, that’s what we had been trying to tell you for years, boss."
"What do you mean?" Draco glared, hoping against hope that his ears wouldn't be as red as he guessed it was.
"Nothing," Greg smirked, biting into his second scone. Draco smacked him on the arm. Smirking was Draco's trademark, not Greg’s, damn it!
"If there's nothing special, could you be so kind as to shut up so that I can finally enjoy my latte?" grumbled Draco, pointedly not looking in Potter's direction.
"Well, I guess. It's just that, he's coming in this direction."
"Who―" Draco’s question was answered before he could finish it.
"Hullo, Malfoy! Fancy meeting you again." Potter grinned cheekily, sitting down at the opposite seat from him.
"What?" Draco looked up in confusion. He wasn’t the only one confused. In fact, everyone but Potter was confused. Weasley looked like he wanted to check Potter for concussions.
"Also, thanks for the book recommendation."
Draco swore he saw a glimpse of a shark’s smile on Potter's face for a moment.
"What book recommendation?" Granger, in the true fashion of a bookworm, cut into the conversation at the mention of books.
"Oh, you know, the book that had become popular recently about h-"
“It’s a book for not sounding like an imbecile in a conversation,” yelled Draco, slamming his cup at the table in the hope of drawing everyone’s attention away. “Which I believe Potter is desperately in need of," Draco sent a withering look at Potter.
“Watch it, Malfoy!” Weasley snarled. Draco glared at him.
Before any more insults flew, Potter interfered. “Calm down, Ron. Malfoy is just being defensive.”
Potter grinned. Draco narrowed his eyes, contemplating the best way to wipe that grin off Potter’s face.
Weasley made a face but his anger disappeared relatively fast. Granger still looked curious as to why book recommendations made Draco defensive. Draco prayed she would stay unaware forever.
“Since you think I’m so hopeless that I need a book to teach me how to speak, why don’t you teach me yourself? Direct guidance is always more effective, right?”
Someone was choking in the background, but Draco was too busy wondering if he could get away with murdering the Saviour of the Wizarding World with his bare hands to figure out who it was. Diagon Alley was too crowded. He needed to lure Potter to somewhere with fewer witnesses. Which accepting Potter’s offer might afford him. But that would mean admitting defeat against Potter…
Fuck Potter!
“I’m afraid your level of incompetence is just too great that I am unable to fix it," smiled Draco innocently.
“I’m sure it would still be better than reading a book,” Potter grinned back. Behind him, Granger let out an outraged protest.
“I would help if I can, but alas, my schedule is packed,” Draco sighed theatrically. “Too many people to meet, too many things to do, you see.”
“But didn’t you just yesterday complain that you had so much free time until the Battle of Hogwarts Memorial Gala that you were starting to get bored?” Greg frowned, genuine confusion written on his face.
Damn Goyle and his inability to read the atmosphere!
Potter raised his eyebrows, looking like he was trying to hold back a peal of laughter.
“I just remember that we have some urgent business which needs to be taken care of immediately. Glad to see you today, but please excuse us.” Draco stood up, dragging a baffled Greg with him out of the coffee shop, ignoring Greg’s wails of “My sconeee!!!”.
Draco did his best not to feel bad at Potter’s kicked-Crup expression. He had no time for chit-chatting with Potter of all people. Also, Potter wasn’t his friend. Why did Draco have to care about his feelings?
“Hey, boss, was Potter flirting with you?” said Greg, as soon as he stopped mourning his half-eaten scone.
“He wasn’t!” Draco snapped, fists curling, ready to punch anyone daring to disagree. The encounter with Potter’s group left his head pounding. He wanted to go home and sleep the day away.
Greg looked like he wanted to say something but Draco’s furious expression must have scared him. He fidgeted with his fingers, shifting from one foot to the other, looking more like a shy little kid than the nearly-2-metre-tall man he was.
“Just so you know, boss,” Greg started awkwardly, scratching his head. Draco closed his eyes in dread―he could guess what Greg was going to say. “Whomever you choose to date doesn’t matter to me or the rest of the guys.” Greg winced. “Maybe not whomever. I don’t want you to date some bad guy, but other than that, everyone is fine. Whether it’s a man or a woman.”
Greg smiled earnestly―the similarity between his face and that of a puppy waiting to be praised for doing a good job was striking. Unfortunately for him, Draco wasn't in the mood to praise anyone.
“ Thanks for the support,” Draco gritted, succeeding at startling Greg into taking a step back.
"I'm just saying," Greg muttered sheepishly.
Draco sighed.
(*)
The Battle of Hogwarts had ended in May but the Annual Battle of Hogwarts Memorial Gala was held in June. The reason was that the First Gala wasn’t held with the intention to be an annual event, but as a pure memorial event to honour the people who had died in the War. May was dedicated to the cleaning up of the remaining Death Eater and trials and repairing. No one had time to mourn the dead until a month later. So when the Headmistress decided to hold a formal memorial gala at the location of the Final Battle―Hogwarts—it immediately became a big event. Still, no one had thought it would become as big as it was nowadays.
Somehow, along the way, the one-time event had been turned into an annual gala that anyone who wished to climb high in the ranks of the Ministry must attend. Draco wondered what the Headmistress thought of how it had become about politics.
Draco didn't participate in the First and Second Gala. The First Gala was held when he was awaiting his trial in the Ministry's cell. The Second happened when he was still in his 1 year of house arrest―his sentence for the sins he committed―a rather light sentence according to the public. And maybe it was a light sentence. Although, it certainly hadn’t seemed so when he had to live in the house that the Dark Lord had occupied without being able to meet anyone or stepping foot outside to relieve himself from the nightmares and paranoia. Draco still heard the screams of agony, and the Dark Lord's cruel laugh whenever he stepped into the drawing room, and he would have loved to rip the dungeon out of the house if it had been possible.
The invitation for the Third Gala came as a surprise. Draco hadn't thought he would ever receive one. Just like how he never imagined he would be forgiven for the War. He had sent the Headmistress a letter to ask if she had missent the invitation. It would be rather cruel if that was the case. But she had said no, that the invitation had arrived to the right person, much to Draco's relief―he hadn't even known that he had been holding his breath.
Draco didn't question the invitation any further. He knew when to shut his mouth and accept the olive branch. It was the first time he thought he liked McGonagall.
And that was the reason why right now, he was standing in his room, fidgeting with his formal robes, preparing to go to the Ball.
"Calm down, Draco. You know you look gorgeous," Daphne swatted Draco when he redid his tie for the fifth time that night. Somehow, he couldn't get the knot to look as neat as he wanted.
“But Daph! I look like a mess! McGonagall will never invite me again if she sees me like this tonight!", Draco wailed, distress clear in his voice.
Daphne rolled her eyes. "She won't. You saw what Potter wore last year. I doubt McGonagall would care if you arrived in a tattered robe or a 1000 Galleons one."
Draco huffed, annoyed, throwing the insolent tie on the bed. The deep green one suited his robe much better anyway. "It's Potter. He could arrive naked and no one would complain."
Daphne made a face. "I wouldn't go that far. It’s McGonagall .”
“True.” Draco agreed. “But I’m sure Potter is the exception.”
“When is he not?” Daphne snorted. “But I’m sure McGonagall isn’t as petty as refusing you entrance just because you have a wrinkle on your robe.”
“There’s a wrinkle on my robe?!” Draco shouted in horror, twisting his body to find the offending wrinkle.
Daphne groaned. “No, there isn’t! I’m just being hypothetical!”
Draco sighed in relief. "Thank Merlin."
“Are you finally done yet?” Pansy kicked the door open, making both Draco and Daphne jump in surprise; Millie, Theo, Blaise, and Gregory followed behind her.
They had opted to go out for a cigarette break which lasted over an hour when Draco started to debate whether the robe he had specially ordered for the Ball (and just yesterday, declared that was the most perfect robe in the world) was adequate. The fact that no one in the group except Pansy and Blaise smoked didn’t matter. Daphne would have gone with them if only she had been fast enough to get out of the room before Draco grabbed her to ask for her opinion―which he promptly ignored later.
“Another minute! I think my cufflinks aren’t the right colour. Maybe the leaf-shaped pair will be better,” Draco called, walking to the cufflinks cabinet to search for said pair.
“You said that 2 hours ago,” Greg mumbled gloomily.
Blaise rubbed his forehead. “I can’t believe you took even longer than the girls to prepare.”
"You try being a former Death Eater and see if you will do anything to ensure you stay on as many people's good side as possible," Draco fired back, feeling tears prickle behind his eyelids. He had tried not to mind it too much, but it was rather hard to forget.
His friends winced in unison.
“Still, I don’t think anyone would complain about your appearance. I mean, you look gorgeous!” Millie smiled, opening her arms wide as if to illustrate how universal her claim was.
“I’m not sure―”
Draco's worry-filled words were cut off when Theo draped his arm over Draco’s shoulder, steering him towards the door. “She’s right. You’re going to be tonight’s star.”
Daphne grinned, grabbing Draco’s arm to help Theo pull him out. “No one would be able to take their eyes off you. Especially Potter.” Daphne winked. Everyone but Draco snickered.
“What does Potter have to do here?!” Draco sputtered, refusing to acknowledge the blush on his cheeks. What was the problem with his friends these days? They kept talking about Potter all the time!
“Nothing!” Pansy exclaimed cheerfully, leading their group toward the entrance. “Let’s go! We want to be fashionably late, not arrive when there’s no one left to admire us!”
“Wait!” Draco protested, but no one cared.
(*)
Draco was, indeed, dressed adequately for the Ball. A bit too adequately even, considering how many people were staring at him and whispering about where the Malfoys' money came from.
“What do they want me to wear?! Rags?! Pillow covers like the house elves?!” Draco grumbled, draining the champagne glass in his hand before grabbing another from the refreshment table. His friends had all gone to ‘associate’, leaving Draco to drink his frustration out alone. Merlin, at this rate, he might as well join Pansy’s club of alcoholics. Blaise and his opinions could go fuck themselves. Come to think of it, Draco was still a bit mad at Blaise for the incident at the barber's. Why should he care about what Blaise thought?
"I think they would still find something else to complain about even if you dressed like a beggar." Potter’s soft voice was what alerted Draco of his presence.
“Merlin, Potter! Could you stop popping into existence from out of nowhere behind people and scaring them to death?!” Draco immediately whirled around to face Potter, who was also holding a glass of champagne.
“You’re not dead,” said Potter, amused.
“Yet,” Draco replied, voice dry.
Potter snorted. Then, with a serious expression, he said, “Anyway, just ignore them. People are never going to be pleased anyway.”
“They would be pleased if I were in Azkaban,” Draco mumbled, suddenly wanting to get out of the hall. The noise was causing him headaches.
"They wouldn't. They would start talking about the death sentence and the Dementor’s Kiss, and even then, they would complain about the lateness of the execution. As if a person’s life were a bag of crisps you bought in the shop.” Potter laughed drily, knocking back his glass, as if he had seen it a hundred times. He probably did. Many people had gotten the Dementor’s Kiss in the purge after the War. Draco had been shocked that his family hadn’t.
Draco didn't want to continue that train of thought, so he steered it away. "What is ‘crisps’ ?”
Potter blinked, surprised at the sudden change of topic. He didn’t oppose it though, smiling easily. “Something delicious. I will show you someday.”
Draco scoffed. “I don’t think I trust anything your taste approves of,” he said, making a point of looking at Potter’s robes.
Potter at least had the decency to blush. "I didn't have much time to prepare before coming here. Things at the DMLE have been busy recently."
As if it was a fair reason for coming to the most important gala of the year in wrinkled robes. There was even a sizable coffee stain on the sleeve.
Draco glanced up at Potter’s face. What a waste for a man like that to wear such disastrous clothes.
“You’re lucky that your other features are enough to distract people from the disaster you call clothes,” Draco muttered.
Potter blinked, then his face split into a smile. “Are you calling me handsome?”
Draco promptly blushed. “I’m not! It’s an insult! An insult, you hear me?”
Potter laughed so hard his eyes watered. Draco glared at him. Before he could turn to leave, however, Potter caught his arm in his rough, strong, large hand.
Potter whispered, smiling so brightly Draco thought he was going to be blinded. “Do you want to dance?”
Draco froze.
Saying he was surprised was an understatement. Never, even in his wildest dreams, had Draco imagined he would be invited to dance by Harry Potter of all people. OK, maybe, a very strong maybe, he had dreamt of it once. But it was just once, and it was the night after the Yule Ball and he had dreamt of dancing with literally every attractive wizard that night. Even Victor Krum! Everyone knew not to take dreams seriously. They meant nothing .
Well, dreams aside, Draco thought he was going to have a panic attack. What the hell did Potter want him to do? They obviously could not dance! What if people thought that they were a couple? Potter was gay so he might be fine with it, but Draco wasn’t! What if people thought he was gay and no lady would marry him? What would his parents think?
In a hysteric moment, Draco thought his friends would love this. They had been going on and on about Draco being gay and having a crush on Potter. They would like this development. They might have even planned it!
Right. It must all be a ploy. Potter and his friends must have gotten together to trick Draco. They must be hiding somewhere nearby, perhaps behind that potted plant, waiting for him to agree so they could laugh at him.
No, no, Draco reasoned, that was too far. His friends might be crazy and like to laugh at Draco’s expense, but they were still his friends. They wouldn’t do something that would hurt Draco seriously. Also, none of them had a good relationship with Potter. They wouldn’t side with Potter to trick Draco.
So this must be all Potter ’s idea. Potter wanted to trick Draco. He must have been angry because of how Draco insulted him the last time they met. That’s why he wanted to humiliate Draco tonight, in front of the most respectable and influential wizards and witches in Britain.
“Malfoy?” Potter asked, biting his lip anxiously.
Right. Draco still had to deal with him. There was no way Draco was going to let Potter succeed. Draco would have the last laugh, not Potter .
Draco pulled his arm from Potter’s grasp and smiled sweetly. “I’m honoured to be invited, but I’m afraid I can’t accept it. I’m not gay, you see. It’s simply not proper.” He walked away before Potter could react, secretly laughing at Potter’s stunned expression.
Served Potter right. There was no way Draco would fall for such a trick.
(*)
"You did what ?!” Pansy screeched, voice so loud that Draco was afraid she would wake the whole country up. They were in his room, just returning from the Gala, and there were privacy charms built into the walls, but Draco was still worried.
“You heard me, Pans. Why are you making such a big deal?” Draco yawned, pretending to be bored. It was a bit difficult to keep a calm face when all of his friends were staring at him like he had sprouted a second head. It made Draco worry if he had done something wrong.
Did Draco accidentally break Pansy’s French perfume bottle? No, it couldn’t be it, or else Draco’s head would have been on a platter by now. Pans had no mercy when it came to her perfume.
“You refused Potter! He invited you to dance and you refused him!” Pansy yelled, looking somewhat crazed. Draco was kind of scared now. Well, maybe not just ‘kind of’.
“Only to humiliate me,” Draco sneered, trying not to cower before Pansy’s glare.
"What gives you that idea?" Pansy frowned, stopping in her task of carving a track into his floorboard with her sharp heels.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Why else did he invite me?” Really, why didn’t Pansy realise it? She normally wasn’t this slow.
“Just that ?!” Pansy screeched again.
“The other day Potter invited Draco to go on a date and he refused then too!” chimed Greg unhelpfully.
“ Whatttttt???!!!” The whole room exploded in the scream of not only Pansy but everyone else excluding Draco and Gregory.
Draco glared at Greg. Greg flinched but refused to back down. Draco groaned. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten between Greg and his scones.
“The man practically threw himself at you again and again and you still think it was all a trick?! Are you mental?! You can’t be that dense, Draco!” Pansy shouted, grabbing Draco’s shoulders for emphasis. All of his other friends nodded at her words.
“It’s just Potter! Why are you making such a big deal out of nothing?” Draco fired back, defensive. Why did they keep talking about this? Why couldn’t they just let it go?
Pansy gave him an incredulous look. “It’s Potter. The one whom you have been pining after since you were eleven, and probably will until you become an ugly old man,” said Pansy calmly, then abruptly shouted at Draco’s face. “Of course, it's a big fucking deal!"
“I’m not pining after him!” Draco protested, all the while cursing his furiously blushing cheeks. He hated having pale skin.
“Of course you are!” Pansy yelled back. Her nails were digging deep into Draco’s skin but Draco refused to acknowledge the pain. It’s Pansy. He would lose the moment he looked away. He couldn’t even blink.
It was Millicent who ended their childish staring competition.
“Draco, I’m disappointed in you,” sighed Millie, voice so heavy and sad that everyone’s attention immediately turned to her; Pansy even let go of Draco’s poor shoulders.
Millie was like the mother hen of their whole group: she took care of them, gave advice when they asked for it, and comforted them when they were sad. No one wanted to disappoint Mille. They still let her down a lot though.
“Millie…”
“I thought you were braver than this," Millie shook her head, pointedly refusing to meet Draco's pleading eyes. "It's your life, of course, you can do whatever you think is best. We can't decide for you; we don’t want to decide for you. But I thought you would choose better. Or at least, be more honest with yourself."
Draco bit his lips. Why did everyone keep acting that way? It was as if Draco was the villain for not being gay and in love with Potter. As if Draco being gay and not getting married to a nice girl was acceptable !
“Stop it! I don’t want to hear anymore! Why do you keep acting as if I’m the villain here?!” Draco bristled, feeling tears pricking his eyes. He refused to let them fall though.
That made his friends wince. Even Millie looked apologetic.
“Draco, that’s not what we meant. We only want you to be happy,” Daphne tried, clutching his sleeve, eyes pleading.
Draco snatched his sleeve from her hold. “Have you ever considered that maybe I don’t want that happiness?”
Silence fell in the room. Draco didn't know silence could be that loud.
“Don’t be absurd, Draco," Theo laughed, breaking the quietness. Somehow he sounded both mocking and miserable. "Of course, you want to be happy. You have to be happy.”
Draco snorted, not looking at anyone. “Many people would disagree. Besides, my father wouldn’t think being with a man―”
Blaise interrupted angrily before Draco had the chance to finish the sentence. “Your father would want you to be happy too.” He added, much more gentle and sorrowful. “Don’t let happiness slip out of your hands because of something stupid.”
Blaise would know. Sixth Year, Blaise had fallen for a girl. He had never confessed his feelings for her. Thought it was inappropriate for a pureblood Slytherin to like a half-blood Hufflepuff. The War happened, and the girl died. He lost the chance to ask her to go with him to Hogsmeade forever.
But Draco didn’t have the mental capacity to listen to Blaise’s sob story today. So, he took a deep breath, then pointed at the door. “Get out.”
(*)
Maybe Draco shouldn’t have been so harsh to his friends. They meant well. They just didn’t understand.
It wasn’t that Draco had any problem with homosexuality. He didn’t lie when he told Potter that he didn’t mind two men loving each other. Draco just couldn’t afford to be homosexual himself.
And yeah, Blaise was right that part of it was because of Draco’s father. However, he didn’t understand the full extent of it.
It wasn’t that Draco didn't dare to be gay because Lucius would disinherit him if he caught wind of it. Lucius wouldn't. He would only look at Draco with a disappointed gaze. And that, to Draco, was more horrible than being chased out of his house.
The Malfoys, alongside many other pureblood families, didn’t welcome homosexuality. They didn’t care who their family members slept with, though. They cared about the discontinuation of the line. Everyone could fuck themselves for all they cared as long as there was a pureblood heir. And homosexuality was a hindrance to producing an heir.
That was why they taught their descendants to hate homosexuality, to consider homosexuality as the nemesis of the family lines. And in case the descendant was homosexual, to ignore love and desire for the sake of the family. ‘Family above all’ sounded so sweet, so caring, so right, while at the same time, so cruel.
Draco didn’t want to be the reason the family died. He didn’t want to be the reason his father had to apologise to their ancestors for producing an insolent son who disregarded the family. Well, Malfoys didn’t apologise, but the Flints didn’t either, and Draco had seen Flint Sr. do so.
It would have been easier if Lucius Malfoy had been an irredeemably horrible, abusive father. But he wasn't. He was a horrible father, of course, what with teaching his son to be a racist bigot, along with his policy of 'punish first, reward later' and his impossible expectation which left Draco craving his father's approval to the point of being ready to throw his life away. But for all his faults, Draco knew his father had always loved him and wanted the best for him. At least, what he thought was best for his son. Even when Lucius had practically offered Draco to the Dark Lord, he had believed that it was the best course of action, not just for himself or the Malfoy's name, but for Draco too. Too bad that his belief had been wrong.
It would have been much easier to ignore his father's opinions and do as he pleased if Lucius had loved himself or the Malfoy tradition more than he loved Draco. But he didn't. And Draco was so scared that he might drive Lucius to do just that.
It always hurt more when it was someone you loved. It would hurt even worse if that person used to love you, but grew to despise you because of your choices.
And Draco was too cowardly to take the risk.
(*)
That night, Draco’s dreams were filled with green eyes and black hair.
Draco woke up before the sun rose and grabbed the nearest wine bottle.
(*)
The next time Draco woke up, it was to his mother gently carding her fingers through his hair.
“Good morning, Draco,” Narcissa smiled. “I ordered Winky to get you on the bed. Stop sleeping on the floor, or you will catch a cold.”
Draco blushed. It was embarrassing, twenty years old and he still needed his mother to take care of him. Drinking until he passed out on the floor had sounded like a good idea the night before.
“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered, hiding his face in the pillow.
His mother laughed. “No need to apologise. Just be more mindful of your health."
“Yes, Mother,” Draco agreed, already knowing that he wouldn’t be able to keep that promise.
“Did something happen?” Narcissa asked, a frown coming to her face.
Draco considered lying to her, but she was his mother, she would see through him in a moment. However, he wasn’t sure he was ready to tell her everything just yet.
She must have seen his unwillingness. Instead of urging him, she sighed and told Winky to bring him a bowl of chicken soup. Draco didn’t feel like eating but he felt like talking even less, so he took the spoon and dug in.
Chicken soup wasn’t his favourite, but his mother always insisted on serving it whenever someone got sick. It was effective. The soup warmed Draco up with every spoon. By the time he finished it, Draco felt much better.
It must be why he was bold enough to ask, “How would you feel if I were gay?”
The question caught both Draco and Narcissa by surprise. Draco hadn’t planned on asking that. He didn’t plan to ever talk about this matter with his parents. But the incidents that happened recently made him anxious and… though Draco didn’t want to admit it: hopeful. And Draco really, really needed to hear his parents’ answer.
Narcissa’s stunned expression was soon replaced by one of worry which made Draco's stomach drop. Then, she burst into laughter.
“Oh, Draco. My silly boy. Is it what you have been worried about this whole time? That we would react badly if you tell us that you are gay?”
“I’m not— It’s only “if”!” Draco spluttered, blushing furiously, caught off guard by his mother’s reaction. His mother raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I might be gay.” He settled weakly.
“Draco,” said Narcissa, clearly trying her best to hold back her laughter. "If you think we weren't aware of your sexuality, you're wrong. We are your parents .”
“But Father always say―”
“The last time I discussed the topic of sexuality with you was before you went to Hogwarts.”
Draco glanced up at his father's voice. Lucius was striding into the room, looking regal and elegant, totally out of place with the conversation happening there. "I have never said anything more after you came into puberty.”
“Clearly not saying anything is a mistake,” scolded Narcissa, glaring at her husband.
Lucius winced. He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”
That made Draco even more incredulous. “I thought ‘Malfoys never apologised’ ?”
Narcissa raised an eyebrow again.
Lucius laughed weakly. "They do when facing Blacks."
Narcissa rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. She let Lucius pull her into his arms and kiss her forehead.
Draco couldn’t help envying his parents’ casual display of affection. He wished one day he would have it with someone too.
"You really don't mind?" Draco’s nervous question pulled his parents back from some world seeming to have only the two of them. He didn’t want to break their moment, but he needed to know their answer. Desperately. “About me being gay.” And therefore, probably being unable to continue the line.
His parents glanced at each other and then turned back to him.
Lucius said seriously. “I’m not going to lie to you, even if your mother might prefer it.” Narcissa elbowed him at this. Lucius yelped and rubbed his side. Draco hadn’t known his parents could do something as childish and plebeian as elbowing others. “For a long time, your sexuality had bothered me. That was the reason why I avoided talking to you about sexuality after I noticed who you were.” Draco could feel his inside go cold. “You know how important the family line is to us purebloods. I couldn’t just watch it go extinct.
“But then the War happened, and we nearly lost you. That’s when I realised I needed to sort out my priorities.” He looked straight into Draco’s eyes. “And my first priority is you and your happiness.”
Draco's entire body warmed. He hadn't thought he could ever feel that accepted, that loved. Clearly, he had been wrong.
“You are not disappointed?” said Draco, trying not to burst into tears of happiness. “What about my duty towards the family? The continuation of the family line?”
“I would be disappointed if you let family duty make you miserable. The family line could disappear for all I care. I need you to be happy more.” Lucius smiled, patting Draco in an awkward attempt to comfort his son. “Also, if it’s just an heir, you can always adopt a child later. Whatever blood status he has.” Lucius grimaced, but didn’t look like he was going to take back his words. Draco felt weirdly moved by that.
“ We ," Narcissa interjected, hugging both men. “ We want you to be the happiest person in the world.”
It was weird hugging his parents like that. Malfoys and Blacks had never been families famous for expressing affection freely. Except for Aunt Bella and her love for the Dark Lord, of course. His mother was all teary and his father was spluttering inelegantly, while Draco himself could do nothing but lean into their warmth. It wasn’t like how Malfoys conducted themselves at all. But Draco found he could live with it.
“By the way, Draco,” Lucius said after they pulled out. “Tell your friends that I have done the talking, so they don’t need to barge in my room at 3 a.m. to curse me for being a horrible father anymore.”
Draco blinked, then burst into laughter.
Draco loved his crazy, stupid, unhinged friends.
(*)
Potter was jogging when Draco spotted him. He stopped by a big oak tree to take a break, pulling out a towel to wipe the sweat on his face.
What Greg said was accurate to a T. Draco still couldn’t believe Ginevra Weasley herself willingly gave them that information, her blossoming relationship with Greg aside. Frankly, Draco still couldn't believe those two got together. Draco knew better than most how lovable Greg was but it was only a week since Greg had joined the same professional Quidditch team as her!
Draco took in a deep breath, clenching the bottle of water in his hand, then stepped forwards.
“Here.”
Potter looked up when the bottle of water appeared in his vision, and recoiled when he found out who was holding it.
“Malfoy,” spat Potter coldly.
It hurt to be treated like that, but Draco guessed he deserved it. So Draco swallowed the pain down and smiled tentatively. “Hello. Fancy meeting you here.”
“I thought it ‘wasn’t proper’ ?” Potter grunted, ire radiating in waves from his body. Draco could see there was hurt mixing in it.
Draco bit his lip, contemplating how to respond. "That…"
Potter sighed. He shook his head weakly. “Look, Malfoy. You have made your lack of interest clear. I won’t bother you anymore, so there’s no need to worry about your ‘properness’ or whatever it is. I don’t know what you are trying to achieve here, but leave me out of it, please?” Suddenly, he didn’t look twenty years of age anymore, but decades older.
Draco wanted to say something to wipe that expression away. He wanted Potter to smile at him again. He didn’t know how to, so he decided to be honest. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Potter laughed mockingly. “I can’t blame you for not being attracted to me.”
“But I am.” Potter froze at Draco’s admission. “I am. I do like you. I was just being an idiot.”
Potter folded his arms in front of his chest. “What? Are you suddenly gay now?”
Draco mumbled, “It’s not ‘suddenly’.”
Potter did an eye-roll. “Last time we talked, you said you weren’t gay.” He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Or are you here to blame me for infecting you with the disease of gayness? Because whatever nonsense Rita Skeeter likes to say, homosexuality isn’t infectious―“
"That's not it!" Draco yelled, breaking into Potter's angry rambling. "I have always been gay. I just hadn't found the courage to admit it!"
Draco’s confession succeeded at stunning Potter into silence. He stared at Draco for what seemed like decades, then warily but gently, asked, “Have you found it now?”
Draco nodded fervently. “I have.”
Potter smiled brightly.
Draco smiled back. “So, are you free for a cup of coffee now?”