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The Stag and The Snake	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9713 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Chapter 11 – The Ball

The second they got home, Sirius plucked the Skiving Snackboxes from under Harry's arm and stowed them in a cupboard. He flicked his wand and closed it with a locking charm as well as an ordinary padlock. Harry snorted. “Damn, you've seen through my cunning plan.”

“Call it insurance,” Sirius replied with a small laugh.

Harry stowed his other gifts in his room, and joined Sirius and Remus for a cup of tea before bed. Though he was full to bursting with cake and dread for tomorrow, the tea helped calm him, at least partially.

“I know you're not keen to talk about it Harry,” Remus said ten minutes later, breaking the comfortable silence, “but we should go over tomorrow's schedule, just so you're clear on everything.” The reference to tomorrow made Harry's stomach clench not for the first time that day, but he nodded silently.

“The ball starts at six,” Sirius said, his voice a little more rough than normal, “but you can do whatever you like until about four, and then we'll help you get ready.”

“Sirius, I'm not a girl. I don't need two hours to get ready for a ball.” Sirius glared at him.

“You need to wash, get your hair done, and get into your dress robes. You'll also need some time in your robes to get used to them, so that you're not fidgeting all night.” Harry gritted his teeth, swallowing another snide remark that had bubbled up his throat, and merely nodded.

“At six we'll get there and you and Draco will be escorted to separate rooms that connect to Lucius's ballroom. It's fairly similar to the ritual for The First Meeting, but with a few adjustments.” Remus rubbed his free hand against his jaw before continuing, “Lucius and Sirius will draw attention of the crowd, and announce the engagement of you and Draco. You'll both be introduced in turn, and when you hear your name, walk out and keep your eyes forward. No matter how many people you see, you need to pretend that they aren't there. You and Draco will meet in the centre of the dance floor, and you will bow to one another, kiss each other on the cheek, and walk to the head table hand in hand.”

“After the meal, you and Draco will be expected to dance.” Some of Harry's distaste must have shown on his face, because Remus glowered at him all of a sudden. “Harry, these are ancient Rituals passed down from wizard to wizard for generations. People will be extremely offended if you don't take it seriously, or refuse to follow the Rite's requirements.”

“I know, I know,” Harry said, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I'm still trying to work through the nervousness and we-hate-each-other thing. I swear I'm not trying to be a prat.” Memories of his last not-entirely-unpleasant encounter with Draco floated to the forefront of his mind, and he felt himself flush slightly.

“After that,” Sirius said after a moment of awkward silence, “you two are expected to stay together for the rest of the evening, but it's not an official requirement, more like good form. Basically, after the dinner and dance, consider yourselves free.” Sirius paused for a moment, “I've been told by Lucius that some of the other guests may ask you to dance. It's allowed, but don't feel obligated to dance if you really don't want to.”

“It's not strictly part of the tradition,” Remus added, “but it's a fairly common practice to dance with the betrothed. It's considered impolite to refuse, like not shaking someone's hand. But, Sirius is correct that it's not an obligation, but...” he trailed off, then added, “it's better to just accept.”

“Great, so I'll get some good mileage out of those dance lessons,” Harry mumbled, his eyes deviating away from his adoptive parents to stare into the dancing flames in the grate. It was hard to ignore the annoyed glares they were giving him.

It took Harry a long time to get to sleep that night. The anxiety over the coming day paired with the excitement of his birthday had left him bodily exhausted, but his mind refused to turn off.

He dozed, first dreaming that he had accidentally shown up to the ball starkers. He could pick out faces in the crowd, pointing and laughing. When he managed to get back to sleep, he dreamed that he was dancing with Draco, who turned into Snape, leering at him unpleasantly. Harry jolted awake with a cry caught in his throat.

“You look awful.” Harry slumped to the breakfast table, ignoring his godfather's comment. He rested his forehead against the table, sitting up only when someone pushed a coffee cup almost directly under his nose.

“Didn't sleep well,” Harry mumbled between fortifying sips. He was too exhausted to even be properly freaked out about the coming evening. It felt as though his brain had been replaced with cotton.

“Yeah that's an understatement, we heard you call out in your sleep more than once. That hasn't happened in a long time. Not since...” Sirius cut himself off, and Harry was thoroughly relieved that he chose to shut up. He didn't need reminders of Cedric's death and subsequent botched resurrection of Voldemort mixing with his dread of the coming evening. It would be a little more than he could handle at that moment.

Eager to change the subject, Harry sat up a little straighter and rubbed his eyes. “What's on the itinerary for today?” He served himself some eggs and toast, surprised that he was so hungry, as anxiety usually had the opposite effect on him. He noticed that both Remus and Sirius suddenly looked annoyed. “What?”

“We told you everything last night. Weren't you listening?”

“No.”

“Harry—” Sirius let out a very dog-like growl, but Remus, apparently sensing danger, rested his hand over his Bonded's. He calmed a little, but still did not look overly pleased with Harry.

“There was a lot going on yesterday, okay? And it was a lot to take in. It's not like I'm deliberately trying to be a pain in the arse—”

“—That'd be a first.”

“Oi!”

“Sirius,” Remus's voice carried with a tone of warning. “We can't exactly blame Harry for not remembering everything. It's probably extremely stressful.” Harry nodded fervently, latching on to the excuse like a limpet.

“It's not every day someone comes up to you and says, 'you whole life has been decided for you, have fun, don't muck it up.' I'd like to see you try it.” Harry crossed his arms and turned away from them, glaring at the cooker, as though it too was nagging him.

“Harry you're eighteen years old. You're too old to be pouting.” Harry ignored Sirius, though he did uncross his arms to grab his coffee cup.

“Harry,” Harry turned to look at Remus when he said his name, but he pointedly refused to look towards Sirius, who reminded him very much of Mrs Weasley in that moment. “Today is going to be stressful enough without you two sniping at each other. Can you please try to not take out your anger on us? We'd all like to get through today with a minimal amount of carnage.”

Harry felt his shoulders sag slightly, and he lifted a hand to massage his temples. “I—yeah. Sorry Sirius.” His godfather huffed, but nodded. Harry had a feeling it was going to be a very long day.

~*~

'Long day doesn't even bloody cover it,' Harry thought mutinously several hours later, as he stared at himself in the long mirror. His hair was nothing short of a disaster. Sirius had gotten so fed up with it he had tried to curse it flat. Remus assured him that the bald patches—now covered with a tingly, pastel green salve—would fill in before they were due to leave. He was grateful that Sirius had admitted defeat after that, and Remus helped him comb it enough so it at least didn't look like a bird's nest.

The robes, much to Harry's surprise, looked good. The weeks of temper tantrums with Madam Malkin seemed to have done the trick, and he saw himself wearing black slacks and a fitted, button down shirt in a deep shade of green. It was distinctly Muggle-like in its presentation. Over it Harry wore a fitted outer robe, solid black with green piping. He had pinned the snitch cuff links to the wrists of his shirt, and he liked the effect of the gold on the green. While most of the outer robe was fitted to show him off, the sleeves flared outward slightly, and would tumble down a few inches to show off the little snitches.

“What do you think Harry?” He turned to Remus, who had been easing back in an armchair, watching him look over himself critically.

“I like it, but...were the Slytherin colours deliberate?” It bothered him more than he'd like to admit.

“The green goes with your eyes, and the black compliments your hair. No one would ever mistake Harry Potter for a Slytherin, believe me.” Remus said patiently. It was not the first time that day they'd had this conversation.

“Okay then, yeah. I think I like it.” He wasn't sure whether or not he believed it, but it was a little late now to find something else to wear. He tugged slightly at the robe uncertainly, and he heard Remus sigh audibly.

“Harry, you look fine. You have nothing to worry about.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck and turned back to Remus, who looked more amused than annoyed with him, which made a nice change. Sirius, as it transpired, dealt with his stress very similarly to Harry, which resulted in more than one shouting match. At that point, Remus had taken over helping Harry get ready to keep the peace.

“What time is it?”

“5:51.” Remus said, looking down at his watch. Harry groaned and threw his head back, covering his face with hands.

“I don't know if I can do this.” He said for what was likely the tenth time in the last forty-five minutes. “I know, I know. I have no choice. Whatever. I'm just scared out of my wits, that's all.” Harry removed his hands and paced, his skin going from red to white, and had begun to take on a greenish tinge when he asked, “what time is it now?”

“5:52,” he looked up from his watch, frowning a little. “Harry relax. It'll not do if you throw up all over Draco Malfoy.” Harry snorted.

“The Boy Who Barfed.”

“Not funny.”

“It was a little funny,” Harry smirked and raked a hand through his hair, avoiding the salve in the process. The bad joke had helped him relax, and he took several deep breaths to try and keep himself that way. “I hate this. I don't want to do this, I feel like I can't do this, but at the same time I just want to get it over with.”

“It's a fairly normal reaction, I'd be more worried if you were completely calm. Do you want to go over everything again?”

“No, I think I got it. Introductions, dinner, dancing, then try to avoid hexing each other.”

“That's the long and short of it,” Sirius cut in, stepping into the sitting room. He looked Harry over once, and smiled. “You look good. You ready?”

“No,” he said, though he was smiling a little, relieved that Sirius seemed calm, or calmer, at the very least.

“Let's get going then.” Remus stood up at Sirius's words, smoothing down his own dress robes. Harry turned back to the mirror to do a quick check, turning to look at his hair. The bald patches had filled back in, and he sighed in relief. Sometimes, he loved Potions.

Harry moved to join Remus and Sirius, doing his best to quell the almost overwhelming sense of foreboding, and cast himself away.

Harry's knees were a little weak, and he reached out to grip at the cool iron of the Manor's gates to keep himself from toppling over. “I hate apparition,” he mumbled under his breath, and looked up to see Remus and Sirius watching him with varying levels of concern and impatience. Considering they had to practically drag him here kicking and screaming, he couldn't exactly blame them. “I'm okay,” he said, though he felt far from it. “Let's go,” the pair turned out of their apparition site and led Harry along the gate until they were moving along the side of the manor, instead of the front. Upon reaching an ornately wrought gargoyle of iron, crouching at the base of the gate, instead of on top of it.

Remus looked down at it with a grimace, as it barely came up to his knee. He pulled out his wand and tapped it while saying, “Rite.” It was evidently a password, as the gargoyle suddenly jumped up and stepped aside, and an opening in the gate appeared. Harry followed Sirius and Remus through, turning back to watch the gargoyle move back onto place and the gate reformed.

The trio crossed through the garden to a side door, which opened even before they reached it. 'How does Lucius do that?' he wondered, though he did his best to keep his expression blank as they approached. Lucius gave Harry a once-over, though it was similar to the way Sirius had looked at him earlier, Lucius's condescending look made him feel like he was six years old all over again. Would the man ever look at him and see an adult, not a child?

“I'm impressed Mr Potter,” he drawled, moving his gaze back up to Harry's eyes, his gaze flicking ever so briefly to his scar. “Those colours suit you.” Harry felt his cheeks burn, and he turned to give Sirius a significant look, but he had already pressed ahead, thanking Lucius for opening their home to them, and more bullshit flattery that Harry didn't care to hear.

“Come along,” he turned in a sweep of his deep green robes, “we will make the announcement shortly, until then I will show you where you will wait.” 'Oh God,' Harry thought as a fresh surge of panic washed over him, 'this is it. It's actually happening.' Doing his best to appear nonchalant, he followed Lucius, Sirius, and Remus through the house. As they walked Harry could hear the babble of voices and soft orchestral music growing closer. He tried to breathe deeply, but his stomach was tied up in knots and his throat felt as though it had closed up. For a fleeting moment, he was grateful he didn't need to talk anytime soon.

Harry hadn't been paying attention to where they were going, and soon he found himself before a very plain-looking door, or, at least, plain for a Malfoy. Lucius opened it with a small flick of his wand. The door clicked and swung open, revealing not a room as Harry had expected, but something of an alcove made of stone and marble. There was a smooth bench made of the same stone jutting from the wall, and across from it a heavy red curtain that just barely brushed the ground. The room beyond it shone its light through it, bathing the floor in its deep colour. Harry looked up at the men, and stepped across the threshold. “You will wait in here Mr Potter, and listen for the announcement. When I call your name, the curtain will open and you will walk straight to myself and Mr Black. Do you understand the proceedings following that?

Harry nodded, then added in a soft rasp, “yes. Er—yes Mr Malfoy.” Addressing the man somehow made the situation more real, and he resisted the urge to fidget in place.

“Good luck Harry,” Sirius said with a small smile, before he was sealed in and left alone.

The wait felt very long to him. In reality, he assumed it couldn't have been more than ten minutes. He sat on the bench, his chin cradled in his hands and his elbows braced against his knees. Sitting had helped ease his nerves a little, but he felt them surge anew when he heard Lucius's voice suddenly, magically magnified.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Lucius said, addressing the crowd. “Esteemed Witches and Wizards, it is my great honour to open my home to you this evening, for the celebration of Lughnasadh.” Harry heard a round of polite applause. He stood up and smoothed down his robes, praying that he did not trip or do anything equally as embarrassing. “However, we also come tonight with a very special announcement, the joining of two families.” Harry moved to the centre of the little room, breathing slowly to hopefully erase some of the panic from his face. “It is my great honour to announce, thirteen years after its invocation, the Rite of Betrothal.” Harry heard a few soft gasps as well as more than a few distinctly female squeals of excitement. “May I present my son Draco Malfoy.” Loud applause followed Lucius's words, and he assumed that Draco was making his way out. Harry swallowed thickly, and tried to rearrange his expression into something neutral, though he wasn't sure how well he had succeeded.

“The Coupling of eighteen years past comes full circle this evening,” Sirius's voice chimed in, his voice magically magnified as Lucius's had been. “It is my great honour to present my adoptive son, and Draco's Bonded-To-Be...Harry Potter.” The curtains were flung open and Harry stepped forward. The applause felt to him like a dull roar, similar to the sound of putting a seashell to your ear. Remembering Remus's words and Sirius's incessant nagging, he kept his eyes fixed resolutely forward, and walked down the carpeted path that had been laid out for him. He stopped on the edge of a large open space that he assumed must be the dance floor.

Sirius and Lucius had stepped aside. If they had said anything more, Harry wasn't aware of it. Directly before him stood Draco, his familiar scowl, silver hair, and white-silver robes clinging to him much in the same way Harry's did. But despite his joking with Remus, he felt a funny feeling, though much different than the one he had expected to feel. Draco seemed to be experiencing something similar as his scowl smoothed out to one of genuine, though quiet surprise and his lips parted slightly.

There was nothing for it, Harry thought Draco looked beautiful. It was rarely a term he felt applied to men, and he felt it was better suited to the gentle grace of women. Draco was not feminine, but he looked both delicate and strong, carrying the high cheekbones and lithe frame of his mother, with facial features strikingly similar to his father. Harry had to force his feet to move, as he was nearly struck dumb by his shock at how he felt looking at the Slytherin youth. He could feel some of the animosity of the past falling into the background. He wanted to hate him, wanted to loathe this entire song-and-dance of his arranged marriage, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to.

He stopped just short of Draco, lifted his right hand and pressed it over his heart, and bowed deeply at almost a ninety degree angle, but tilted his head up a little to keep his glasses from slipping off. He straightened up, and half a beat later Draco mirrored his movements. His mouth twitching into a very Malfoy smirk, he stepped forward and brushed Harry's lips with his own. He remembered vaguely that he was supposed to be kissed on the cheek, or was it the hand? Harry couldn't remember, but he wasn't complaining. Harry returned the kiss, just as softly, afraid of spoiling the moment.

When they pulled apart, he remembered were he was, and after lacing his fingers with Draco's he turned to face the crowd. They were applauding and he could see a few witches dabbing the corners of their eyes. While Draco smiled broadly, turning to nod at a few people in particular, Harry could only smile sheepishly, feeling a warm rush of relief when he spotted a tall, gangling ginger. Ron and Hermione were grinning and clapping hard. Hermione was crying, and Ron was waggling his eyebrows at him suggestively. He averted his gaze quickly, not loving the idea of going beet red in front of at least a hundred people.

The crowd dispersed, and Harry followed Draco's lead to a long table that faced the hall, where Lucius, Narcissa, Remus, and Sirius already sat. Two empty seats right in the centre were empty, and Draco sat next to his father, while Harry sat between him and Sirius. After they settled in, he felt Draco's hand under the table brush his fingers. A tickle of delight seemed to rush through him, and they tangled their fingers together under the table; not holding hands exactly, but almost.

Around the hall couples and groups moved to the round tables that had been arranged a step below theirs. A moment later the empty silver platters before them filled with food, and feeling like he was back at Hogwarts, he reluctantly let go of Draco's hand and helped himself.

“No catastrophes, then,” Sirius murmured under his breath, and Harry barely stifled his laughter.

“The night is young, don't count your dragons before they've hatched.” He sipped his wine while Sirius chuckled softly, and Harry did his best to eat politely. Many of the dishes Harry only vaguely recognized, having tried them maybe once or twice at Hogwarts. There was next to no meat present, and instead a variety of breads and vegetable dishes. Sitting at the high table, he could almost feel the hundreds of eyes flitting in his direction, and he didn't like the feeling of a spotlight being on him while he was trying to eat. Draco wasn't speaking, but kept watching him with a small smile, as though he was only seeing Harry for the first time.

The look was intense, and Harry felt himself blushing. He looked away, scanning the hall for familiar faces, and couldn't help but snickering a little when he spotted Ron and Hermione at a table with a few Ministry wizards that he only vaguely recognized. Ron was using his old table manners standby of cramming as much food into his mouth as he could, while Hermione smacked him and seemed to be reprimanding him, while her own face went very red. He snickered a little and turned his attention back to the table. Draco seemed to have noticed, and he leaned in to whisper in Harry ear, “if he does that at the Bonding Ceremony, the whole thing's off.” He laughed.

Pudding replaced the rich dishes, and instead of the traditional English fare he had expected, he found instead warm mulled cider, apple tarts, chocolate-raspberry silk pie, and a variety of other elegant fruit-based desserts. He helped himself to a tart, his free hand slipping under the table to twine with Draco's again.

Soon the remnants of the sweets faded away, and Lucius and Sirius stood up on either side of them. He was relieved to see that Draco looked as nervous as he felt.

Harry watched as people around the hall stood up, and Lucius waved his wand in a great, sweeping motion. The tables and chairs lifted into the air, floated outward to line the edges of the hall, and the high table they sat at suddenly split into two, leaving a great gap where he and Draco sat. Remembering suddenly that he was expected to dance, he stood up and walked down the few steps off the dais, trying to move somewhat gracefully, but he wasn't sure how well he had managed it. Thankfully he managed to not stumble over his robes, and he and Draco turned to face one another in the centre of the hall.

Draco smiled at him. Not a smirk, or a trademark Malfoy sneer, but a genuine, open smile. He took his free hand and rested it against Harry's hip as the first quivering notes of a viola filled the hall. He followed Draco's lead as it was obvious he had done this before. He found himself struggling to recall his lessons, but with Draco's help, he managed to keep from embarrassing himself.

Harry was distantly aware of the sound of gentle applause around him, but it was as though he and the fair boy that held him had been sealed off in their own little world. In the corners of Harry's vision he could see other couples coming onto the floor, but it was as if his focus had been magnetically charged towards Draco. He couldn't take his eyes off him, and Draco in turn stared at him just as intensely, seemingly unable to wipe that minute smile off his face.

As the violins faded into silence, Draco stopped but left his hand on Harry's hip for a moment longer. He gently tugged Harry towards him and captured his lips in another feather-light kiss. Harry lifted his hand from Draco's shoulder and tentatively brushed the back of his knuckles along the ivory skin of his cheek. They reluctantly pulled apart a moment later and stepped off the dance floor hand in hand.
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The Stag and The Snake