professor? ( ✓ )

chapter eleven

It was the night of the Christmas dance, and all day long, the students walked the halls with excitement in their eyes. McGonagall had shortened class times for the day, as the students would require time to get ready for the dance, and then finish up any final packing before their departure. As usual, however, there were only two people who didn't let their smiles reach their eyes: Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy.

Well, Harry was a bit more excited for the dance than Draco was, as the last time he'd properly danced was in fourth year at the Yule Ball.

"I don't understand why everyone is so excited. All you're doing is moving your feet while music plays in the background." Draco claimed, rolling his eyes as he finished up the last of his paperwork before the break. Harry, who had been writing a letter to Hermione paused and glanced up at the blond.

"It's not just moving your feet, Malfoy. You get to spend time with your friends, socialize with the girls while they're all dolled up, and just generally loosen up. It's a break before the break!" Harry explained, a glimmer in his eyes. Sure, at the Yule Ball he and Ron had made arses out of themselves and Hermione, but the entire feeling and atmosphere of the night had been uplifting.

"Okay, but that's from a student's perspective. We're not students anymore. We have to chaperone." The blond sighed, rolling his eyes.

"At least it's something to do on a Friday night."

"I could think of a number of things I'd rather do."

"You're such a buzzkill. We should get ready; the dance should be starting soon, and we have to be there before the students start to arrive." And then, Harry abandoned his parchment and headed for the trunk beside his bed in pursuit of finding something formal to wear. Not soon after, Draco walked into the room as well.

After searching for a good ten minutes, Harry's pursuit turns out to be useless. Draco had already changed and was applying more gel to his hair delicately. The blond glanced at the messy haired wizard through his mirror, and made a tsk-ing sound.

"Merlin, Potter. By the time you're ready, the dance'll be over." He sneered, turning to face the shorter lad with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I haven't got something to wear." Harry admitted bashfully, bowing his head so as to not meet the blond's eyes.

"Isn't that a shocker - not. I'm surprised to see you have as many outfits as you do, as is. Can't go around expecting that you'd find time to buy fancy robes or anything, no, that's ridiculous. You're too busy strutting to think of the important things."

"I don't strut, Malfoy. Now, do you have something I could wear, or no?" Harry furrowed his eyebrows in aggravation, and Draco's eyes widened in surprise. Harry Potter in his clothes? What a concept!

"I might, if you promise not to stretch them out and treat them kindly, seeing as you walk around like some Bulgarian Beast." Draco had recovered, finding his comment to be witty, and knelt down to search through his trunk for something that had maybe gotten too small for him and would fit Potter's awkward body.

Twenty minutes later, the professors made their way into the Great Hall: Malfoy ignoring Potter as best he could, though still finding himself staring at the wizard way more than he should've. The dressing robes were a perfect fit, and made Harry Potter look almost like a respected member of society.

Various upperclassmen girls fawned over Harry's outfit, and attempted to flirt with them, but the green eyed lad kindly turned them down and spooned a bit of iced pumpkin juice into his cup. Malfoy stood along a wall, watching as the students danced foolishly in their dresses and nice suits. He crossed his arms over his chest, thinking of how desperately he wanted to leave, but he couldn't. Not only would McGonagall be angry at him, but now Draco had to make sure Potter didn't muck up his clothing. And so, he found his eyes following the messy haired wizard for most of the night.