yule ball

awakening

It was a very good thing that it was dark in the gardens, because Draco was sure he was blushing more than he ever had in his life.

Harry raised one eyebrow as he looked at him. "You okay? You look a little... flustered."

Damn those fairies, Draco thought. Apparently there was more light in the gardens than he had originally thought.

"No, I'm doing great. Perfect." Draco stuttered.

Harry still looked dubious, but he let the subject drop. "Are you enjoying the dance so far?"

Draco nodded. "I have to admit that I wasn't expecting to have this much fun."

"What about your father? You're always talking about how much he hates me."

And there it was. Draco knew it was bound to come up eventually, but the subject of his father was one his other friends tiptoed around, as if mentioning his father would break some sort of delicate silence. Then again,they knew more about his father, and more specifically, what his father was like, than Harry did. Of course every student, Harry included, knew of Draco's father, the infamous Lucius Malfoy, death eater, insanely rich, and even more stuck up. Only a few people knew about what went on behind closed doors.

Pansy and Blaise were the only ones Draco had showed his bruises too, if only by accident.

---

Draco was sobbing into his blankets when Blaise stumbled into the dorm.

It was the beginning of second year, and the day before, Draco's father's case had been reopened. A new witness had came forward to testify against the fact that Draco's father had been under the imperius curse during his time serving Voldemort. There was no way for that to be Draco's fault, of course.

But his father didn't care. So Draco came to school with bruises blooming on his chest, positioned carefully where the professors wouldn't be able to see.

Blaise had walked into his room and seen Draco in his moment of weakness. He had demanded that Draco show him, and Draco did. Blaise's face had gone pale and he had pleaded with Draco to go to a professor, to tell someone, but Draco couldn't.

He knew that his father could bribe the right people, and if he heard that Draco was telling people, he would get him taken out of Hogwarts and Draco would be trapped in his house all year, until he was seventeen. The thought alone was too much too handle.

Summers with his father were long, hot, and painful. If he had to spend the entire year with him, he might just go insane.

So Draco kept silent, he kept watching Harry and his friends, and he let the jealousy that grew inside him fester and twist into hatred.

---

What was Draco supposed to do with Potter's question? The real answer was that his father could never find out, and if he did, Draco couldn't imagine what he would do to him.

So Draco turned to Harry with his best pleading look. "Can we not talk about about my father? Please?"

"Okay." Harry nodded, and he reached over for Draco's hand, giving it a quick squeeze. Draco felt a rush of warmth flood through him, and he savoured that one second, sure that Harry would let go within a second.

But he didn't. Draco waited a couple of seconds, far past the normal hand-squeezing range, before realizing that Harry wasn't going to let his hand go.

And then Draco was strolling in the garden, holding hands with Harry Potter. And he could not longer ignore the voice in his head that nagged at him, telling him to lean a little closer to Harry, and that if their lips accidently touched, he wouldn't have a problem with that.

And why was Harry holding his hand? After all, they weren't anything, they just talked in between class, and went to the Yule Ball together, and held hands...

Oh, shit.