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Secrets & Lies	By : Digitallace Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 14570 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with the fandom, nor do I get paid to write or post this work.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Author’s Note: I went from Zero Beta’s to three. I’m a lucky girl. Thanks loads to Arineat, Aeromance and Cris for their invaluable input.

Chapter 5

Harry arrived only a few minutes late to the Ministry ballroom, in finery he wagered not even Hermione could fault, and circled the room with a friendly smile plastered on his face. His friends joined him shortly, each taking turns leading the conversation, knowing how much Harry hated political games and idle chitchat. Before long they’d spoken to nearly everyone in the room except Malfoy, whom Harry noted was watching them very closely.

When it came time to make their way to the table they’d been assigned, Harry wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or not that Ron had managed his goal and had them placed sitting directly across from Malfoy. A petite blonde woman, who Harry presumed was his date, sat beside him to Harry’s chagrin. Theodore Nott was seated to Malfoy’s left, alongside his fiancée, which turned out to be none other than Pansy Parkinson. All three were met with snubbed silence, the foursome’s conversation dying abruptly on their lips as Harry took a seat beside Malfoy’s date.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Harry instantly turned on the charm, smiling and extending a hand to the blonde, who blushed demurely. “I’m Harry Potter.”

“Astoria Greengrass,” she chimed, beaming at him despite Malfoy’s scowl.

“A pleasure,” he quipped, bringing her hand to his lips before placing a gentle kiss on the back of it, his eyes flicking once to Malfoy before he released her delicate hand. “These are my friend, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger,” he introduced, being as formal as he knew how to be.

“Oh, I feel like I know all three of you already,” she chirped excitedly, ignoring her friends as she leaned a bit closer to Harry. “You must tell me if all the stories are true.”

“Which stories would those be?” Harry asked, feigning coyness, but Malfoy interrupted them a moment later.

“Yes, Potter. Do tell. Are the rumors about you true or greatly exaggerated?” Malfoy drawled, a mixture of curiosity and malice in his tone.

Harry took his time letting his gaze linger on Draco’s attractive date before falling on Malfoy himself. “You were skulking around in the background for most of it, Malfoy. You should know truth from fiction.”

They stared at each other over the dinner rolls popping into existence on the table, not even Ron’s immediate grab for the bread made either of them blink as they entered a silent war of wills. It was Nott that finally broke their standoff, his brows arched in amusement.

“I want to hear the story about what a seemingly straight bloke was doing at a gay club a few nights ago.” The slight huff from Hermione could be heard clearly over the silence that stretched over the table.

“Likely not too different from you, Nott,” Ron piped in. “Hermione and I were there as well, celebrating our engagement,” he lied smoothly, shocking his fiancée and Harry both as they fought not to gape and make his fib useless. “We practically had to drag Harry out at all. He’d been perfectly content at home.”

Although Harry appreciated the quick cover and defense of his sexuality, it felt like he was quickly losing the ground he’d built with Malfoy. “I wouldn’t say you had to drag me,” Harry corrected lightly. “There’s nothing wrong with that club, or its patrons.” His eyes barely left Draco’s smoldering gaze as he spoke. “Although that was my first time at that particular establishment.”

Fine lines crinkled around Malfoy’s mercurial eyes as he seemed to scrutinize Harry more closely, but again, Theo’s snide voice cut in and tore Harry’s attention away from his target. “So, it’s true then. You’re a queen?” he laughed excitedly, as if he’d discovered Merlin’s wand hidden in his own nightstand drawer.

“I think it’s ignorant to jump to conclusions about someone you haven’t spoken to in…well, ever,” Harry remarked, no vehemence in his voice, just to the point. He saw Malfoy’s jaw tense, waiting for a rebuke, but Theo just scoffed lightly and rolled his eyes, focusing his attentions on Pansy, who seemed to be caught in a perpetual sneer, thankfully hadn’t yet decided to offer her own opinion.

“I’d love to hear all about your adventures, Harry,” Astoria mused, her hand falling over his in a playful manner, but lingered there just a little too long for Harry’s taste. Ron’s as well it seemed.

Ron nudged Harry sharply before glaring daggers at the girl flirting with his little sister’s boyfriend. “So, Astoria, is it? What is it you do? Besides cling to wealthy wizards, of course?”

She blushed furiously, but caught herself before showing any other sign of embarrassment. A quick glance at Malfoy showed a smug grin and Harry thought that was an interesting reaction indeed. He clearly didn’t care much for his date if he were amused at her being called out for chatting up another man. She looked at him, batting her eyes demurely before turning back to Harry as she tried to recover the ground she’d lost.

“Draco and I are not a couple, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she clarified. “Or at least he hasn’t been civil enough to ask me yet. We’re just friends.”

“Oh,” Harry replied, almost a sigh of relief, but then he’d suspected as much already. With difficulty, Harry attempted to continue feigning interest in Astoria once the truth came out. It wouldn’t look well if he’d been spending time drawing her attention to goad Malfoy only to drop all pretenses when it was obvious there wasn’t enough connection between the two of them to incite anything more than mild irritation. Besides, it wasn’t his mission to persuade Astoria to bring him home tonight, though he wagered it wouldn’t have taken as much to convince her as it was taking Malfoy.

Thankfully their meal soon presented itself and everyone was too distracted to continue their conversation and dinner pressed on in mostly amicable silence. Ron would occasionally mutter around the food in his mouth about how very delicious everything was, only to be met by sneers across the table. Hermione pointed out influential people they should be concerned with and Draco continued his smoldering stare-off with Harry. If Theo or Pansy noticed the slowly building tension between them, neither of them commented. Astoria, however, seemed to take immediate note of the lack of attention being paid to her and complained of a headache as dessert was being served.

“Draco, darling, can we please call it a night?” she whined. “It’s been lovely meeting you all,” she added as if remembering her manners. “I’m just not feeling very well all of a sudden.”

“I’ll walk with you, Tori,” Draco replied, sweeping up like a gallant gentleman as he offered her his arm and began to lead her away from the table.

Harry sagged immediately in his seat, feeling his face set in a scowl until Hermione cleared her throat and looked at him pointedly. She was right. He needed to reign in his disappointment. It wouldn’t do to have Theo and Pansy catching onto his little scheme and tattle to Malfoy before he had a chance to make his move. And it looked like it might be awhile before he succeeded.

Setting his shoulders once more, Harry began mentally checking off his own list of excuses to get him out of this blasted Gala early, but just as he was about to plead a forgotten Auror assignment he needed to finish up, Draco strolled back to the table. Alone.

“Astoria isn’t feeling well, but wished me to extend her apologies to the table once again,” Draco explained as he sat down.

Theo cocked a brow as a matched expression clouded Pansy’s face. “You didn’t go with her?” she asked. “Are you really never planning to settle down with her? She’d make the perfect wife for you, Draco.”

Harry felt himself bristle at her words but quickly pushed down the unusual stirring of jealousy. A fiancée would be a distraction to the plan. Nothing more.

Draco simply rolled his eyes. “I told you, Pansy. I’m not ready to marry anyone. Though yes, Astoria would be an adequate candidate if I were. I let her go on her own because I have other business to attend to this evening,” he quipped lightly, and Harry didn’t think he was imagining that Draco’s gaze flicked to him for the briefest of moments.

“Better be careful, Draco, or by the time you decide you want her, Potter might have swooped in and stolen her right out from under you,” Theo teased, lips quirked into an amused smirk.

“I find it unlikely that Potter has any real interest in Astoria,” Draco almost purred. “Isn’t that right, Potter?”

Harry let his tongue flick out to wet his lips, leaving a glossy sheen behind as he debated what to do. Claim to want her and ignite some new competition between them or let it go, knowing that Malfoy would find it irritating. “She’s not my type,” he replied honestly, but didn’t elaborate further.

“Of course she’s not. She’s far too good for you, Potter,” Pansy shot snidely.

“She certainly didn’t seem to think so,” Ron battled in his friend’s place as Harry sighed and shook his head, moving to get up as Pansy and Ron started bickering in earnest.

“I think there are more gracious guests at this ball that might actually enjoy my company. Please, excuse me,” Harry said with a slightly mocking bow and shot Hermione a sly wink before gliding away from his table to the Minister’s. He felt a little silly using his close relationship with Kingsley to draw Malfoy’s attention, but once he began telling Shacklebolt about his work at the Ministry and his arguments with Fledgecraft, the fact that he’d originally come over here to garner some favor from his Slytherin rival was a distant memory.

It wasn’t until he rejoined Hermione and Ron, now blessedly on their own as the tables were cleared out for dancing, that he remembered his mission. “Brilliant idea, Harry,” Hermione chimed the moment he slipped into their midst. “He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you the whole time.”

“Really?” Harry asked, a little shocked even though he’d all but planned it that way.

“Really,” Hermione replied, eyeing him curiously for a moment before taking a sip of her cocktail. Harry looked around for the bar and caught sight of a shock of blond hair and found himself suddenly quite parched.

“I’m going to get a drink before getting back to work,” Harry whispered to his friends, nodding covertly in Draco’s direction, which happily coincided to where the beverages were being served.

“Good call, mate,” Ron said, patting Harry on the back. “Maybe if you’re really pissed it won’t hurt as much.”

Harry turned up his nose in disgust and gave his friend a very rude gesture in reply. “It’s nice to know you just assumed I’d bottom.”

Ron only frowned. “I only say that because I can’t imagine Malfoy bottoming for anyone,” he snorted.

“Well, at least you’ve given it good thought,” Harry pointed out with a wink as Ron absorbed the dig and grew a garish shade of red. He hurried off, leaving a cursing Ron and an amused Hermione in his wake.

With a purposeful stride, he walked right past Malfoy, ignoring the blond’s stare and ordered a glass of wine from the bartender. He waited patiently, his back turned to the staring Slytherin until his drink was served and merely stood there, sipping on it slowly.

“Are you stalking me, Potter?” drawled a familiar voice behind him and Harry turned, feigning shock and shot Malfoy what he hoped to be a dazzling smile.

“Malfoy, what a surprise. I didn’t see you standing there,” he quipped, obviously lying.

The expected sneer was firmly planted on Malfoy’s lips and Harry nearly smiled at the predictability of his opponent. Perhaps things wouldn’t be so bad if he continued to look at things that way. This was just another competition that Harry needed to win against Malfoy. Nothing more. “What are you up to?” the blond asked suspiciously.

“Roughly the same as you, I’d imagine,” Harry pointed out, tipping his glass of red liquid toward Draco’s matching goblet. “Dancing, drinking, being merry.”

“Are you?” Draco mused, his sneer melting in to a smirk. “Merry, that is?”

Harry narrowed his eyes, not catching the innuendo, if there even was one. “Merry enough…why? You here to spoil my evening?”

“Always,” Draco whispered, stepping forward and a little too close for Harry’s comfort. Suddenly 007 was gone and in his place was the jittery teenage boy who couldn’t find a date to the Yule Ball. Bungle-0-7. Draco seemed to catch the scent of fear like a true predator and leaned even closer. “You should ask me to dance, or else you’ll appear rude.”

“Maybe,” Harry said with a shrug. “Or maybe I’ll just seem straight.”

Draco snorted inelegantly and pursed his lips. “You would have seemed straighter if you’d brought She-Weasel and hadn’t been chatting me up with a hard on for twenty minutes,” Draco quipped.

Harry reflexively glanced down to see if he was in fact sporting an embarrassing erection he just hadn’t noticed yet, which had clearly been what Draco had wanted based on his devious chuckle. “Still a prat, I see,” Harry grumbled.

“Still a gullible Gryffindor, I see,” Draco retorted, still grinning brightly. “And since you’re clearly not going to ask, let me. Potter, would you like to dance?” he asked, holding out his lithe hand, which Harry merely stared at for a long and terrible moment.

Scoff and throw his wine in Malfoy’s face or take the offered hand and figure out a way to complete his mission?

In the end the choice was obvious, as much as Harry detested it. He took Malfoy’s pale and elegant hand and allowed the man to lead him onto the dance floor where it seemed everyone parted like the Red Sea to allow them passage. He didn’t wince when Malfoy’s hand rested possessively on his hip as if it belonged there, and he didn’t balk as the blond pressed indecently close and began to lead them into an intricate waltz, but inside his spirit was rebelling and he had to grit his teeth to keep from saying anything rude.

“So, what happened to me being ‘up to something’?” he asked, reminding Draco of their tiny exchange at the club.

“I still think you’re up to something, Potter, but that doesn’t mean I can’t play along for a bit,” he chimed, clearly pleased with himself. “Besides, the look on your face right now is worth it.”

Harry frowned , determined not to let Malfoy get the better of him as he swept them into movements that made Harry fight to concentrate on not stepping on Draco’s dragon hide boots. Eventually the rhythm of their steps seeped into him and he slid his own hand downward, resting it at the small of Malfoy’s back as he reveled in the soft, almost inaudible gasp the blond made in response.

“Do none of your friends know that you’re gay?” Harry asked abruptly as his gaze caught Nott and Zabini on the sidelines, their expressions bathed in confusion. They obviously found it disturbing while clearly desperate to find a way to rationalize their friend’s behavior. What amused Harry most was that Ron looked exactly the same.

“Who said I was?” Draco asked, spinning them around so that he could follow where Harry’s gaze had lead. “Hm…that will take some work. Quick, tell me something humiliating about yourself, Potter. I’ll need a good excuse to go back to my minions with.” His lips quirked into a slight grin, but Harry couldn’t quite tell if he was taking the piss or being serious.

“More humiliating than this, you mean?” Harry quipped, watching Malfoy’s lips twitch downward.

“Am I such an embarrassing dancer that the Great Harry Potter cannot be seen with me?” he chastised, but Harry shook his head.

“You’re a fine dancer, Malfoy, but you’re still a prat,” he clarified with a grin.

“And you’re still just a celebrity wanker,” Draco countered, smiling again, an expression Harry found himself growing fond of. “I’m not sure why I’m wasting my time with you.”

“Why are you?” Harry asked in all honesty.

“Because I want to,” Draco replied after seeming to mull it over, leading their dance closer to the edge of the room and away from the rubber-necked onlookers. “I rarely do anything I don’t want to these days, Potter. And if I want something badly enough, I will take it.” Harry swallowed thickly at the implications in Malfoy’s tone, but the firm weight of the Slytherin’s body against his own was lost in the next moment as the swell of music faded and changed to something new. “Thank you for the dance,” he said formally, bowing at the waist. “You’ve been most gracious, Potter.”

Harry blinked as Draco turned away, his mind reeling with possibilities. If he let him go now, Harry had no idea when he’d get another opportunity alone with him. With that thought in mind, he gripped Malfoy’s wrist and hastily pulled him into a dark corner, away from the crowd. “Do you want me badly enough?” Harry asked, his voice breathy and almost scared to hear Malfoy’s answer.

Stepping forward, Draco pressed him into the wall, not touching, but so close Harry’s skin practically screamed from the proximity. He could sense the hesitation in Malfoy’s stance, even as it hummed desperately with something else, a fire, a hunger that Harry couldn’t quite name. “Are you asking me to take you, Potter?” the Draco asked, his drawl like a velvet caress on Harry’s neck.

“Take me home,” Harry whispered in return, and it seemed Draco’s answer was yes when he felt the telltale tug of Apparition from just behind his navel.

Author’s Note: For your review, I shall shrink you into a fly so that you can buzz about Malfoy Manor and watch the next scene.
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