I object ~slowburn

9| May I Have This Dance?

•Draco's POV•

The mop of black unruly hair was a dead giveaway. I walked up behind them.

"Harry?" I whispered.

He turned around in surprise.
Harry's face was covered in stubble and he was far too thin.
The bridge of his nose was a bit wonky, like he broke it and it never quite healed.

"Where have you been?" I put a hand on his shoulder. He flinched at my touch.

"I shouldn't have come," he shook his head.

"It's your best friends wedding!" I exclaimed.

"I know,"

"Don't try to run away from me Harry, stay for them," I said.

"The wedding was s-so nice," his voice caught. I wasn't expecting him to be so emotional and I didn't know what to say.

"You know, I never got to dance at my wedding," he laughed, albeit coldly.

"She's not here," I said.
He nodded.

"Come on, everyone's been looking for you," I tugged on his arm. To my surprise he went along.
Through his sleeve I felt the bones in his arm. He must not have been eating too much.

We entered the ball room and mostly everyone was dancing.
I watched him closely while he stared at all people, in a daze. His gaze sat on the newly weds.
Ron turned his head at that exact moment and his eyes widened.

"Blimey!" He exclaimed. Granger followed his gaze and she too looked surprised. The couple rushed over and enveloped Harry in a group hug.

I saw Harry exhale in what could only be described as relief.

"Harry where have you been? We've been worried sick!" Granger pelted him with questions.

"Never mind that, you two are married!" He grinned.

"Can you believe it?" Ron chuckled.

"No not really,"

Ron shoved him lightly.

"Well come on mate, everybody is dancing, you can't be the wallflower," he said.

"I've got no one to dance with," he shrugged. Granger shot me a look.

Over the past months I've actually gotten close with them and one night Granger coaxed me into confessing about Harry.

I cleared my throat.

"Madam may I have this dance?"
I bowed to him.

He frowned.

"Come on!" An old woman called out from a nearby table.

"Fine," he relented, much to my appreciation.

The song's tempo was slow and the melody was low. Harry looked awkward and didn't know where to put his hands.
I put mine on his waist and soon we were spinning.

"Where did you go?" I asked quietly.

"Somewhere that I'm not proud of," he admitted.

The end of the song came too soon. The band started another slow song and Harry looked at me sheepishly.

"Another dance?" He offered.

"Of course,"