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mini_festTitle: Lute, Concert Standard
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ryudaaku
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, Eighth Year Slytherins
Prompt: Eighth Year fic
Draco has a beautiful singing voice, and can play many instruments. When Harry stumbles across his former rival singing traditional carols, strumming a lute, alone on the grounds of Hogwarts near the Solstice, he is utterly charmed. Perhaps literally.
Word Count/Art Medium: 5,129
Rating: PG-13
Contains (Highlight to view): Recreational marijuana use
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: I adored this prompt, and ended up building in a B-story about the friendship / acquaintances-with-future-benefits interactions between the Eighth Year Slytherins too. Hope it's still in the spirit of your prompt,bk7brokemybrain!
Summary: Goyle accidentally breaks Draco's charmed lute, the Eighth Year Slytherins try to do some damage control, Harry is confused, and Draco tries to do The Right Thing. Meanwhile, Ron, Hermione, and Pansy commiserate over the fact that things always end up being about Harry and Draco, and George and Percy are blessedly high and manage not to interrupt an important reconciliation.
I. Harry
It took five fully-grown, large owls to deliver Narcissa Malfoy's gift to Draco. Harry watched from across the Great Hall, as the first years surrounding Draco shoved their breakfast plates and bowls away to clear a space for the package, repeatedly glancing up at it in excitement. A quick glimpse of Draco's pleased expression, eyes crinkling at the corners, was all Harry saw, before the sight of the other was blocked by all of the Slytherin students huddling close to see what had been sent.
It was good to see their excitement, particularly amongst the first years. During the months of Hogwarts' repair, Hermione had confided in Harry about her informal conversations with Professor McGonagall, and the now-Headmistress' concerns about the atmosphere that the first year Slytherins would be sorted under. It had been surprising, and somewhat perplexing, when she had heard from the Slytherins from Harry's year who had survived the war, all of them accepting to return to Hogwarts for an eighth year. Even Bulstrode and Nott, whom Harry heard had transferred to Beauxbatons for their seventh year, had returned to prepare and sit for their NEWTs.
After the sorting, the Slytherins from the upper years had closed ranks around the first and second years in particular. When the suspicious glances and stilted interactions from other Houses had largely tapered off, the older Slytherins had eased away, but it was clear that there now existed a rapport with the younger students that Harry hadn't felt from other Slytherin years.
He watched as Draco stood from the table, saying something to the first years before he left, the package securely nestled in his arms. Greg and Pansy followed soon after, while Bulstrode and Zabini finished their breakfast, and seemed to be entertaining questions from the excited first years.
"Must've been quite a package," Neville commented, and Ginny hummed in agreement. They looked at Harry expectantly.
After coming out to Ginny mid-summer, Harry was still trying to get used to getting the same treatment from Ginny as she would do to any of her brothers.
"Let us know what it is when you find out," Ginny smirked.
Or maybe she'd giving him a bit more grief until she met her next boyfriend.
II. Narcissa
After the last year of tense silences at home and school, many of the older Slytherins had welcomed the rich sounds of Draco's music that came from the Eighth year dormitory. Draco had finally brought his instruments to Hogwarts, both for his own comfort and Narcissa's peace of mind, that he would have something familiar to anchor himself with in this trying year.
Narcissa had been delighted to hear from Greg's owls that Draco had relocated his quiet, private practice sessions to open performances for everyone in the Slytherin Common Room. The charmed lute, thus, was the perfect gift: a new instrument for Draco, and a means to further the admiration from his fellow Slytherins. While she was no longer being actively monitored by the Aurors, Narcissa had no intention of drawing their attention back to the Malfoy name. The professionals who crafted the lute had confirmed that the charm was sanctioned by the Ministry – it was a harmless soothing charm, and would bring a welcome peace for Draco's classmates in the days leading to the Winter Solstice and the holidays.
Perfectly harmless, she wrote in her note to Draco. Do enjoy it, and I will see you for Christmas, darling.
Indeed, when Draco had rushed back to the dormitory after breakfast to test his new instrument, he found that strumming even a short, simple melody had Pansy sighing appreciatively, and Greg sprawling in his bed, feeling ready for a nap that usually only happened after a particularly spectacular feast. Even his own excitement had settled with the charm, the calm spreading inside him as he found himself returning Greg's wide smile.
III. Greg
When they left for class, Greg watched as Draco placed the lute gingerly back in its case and atop his dresser. His friend had announced that he would need a few days to practice, but the lute would be a grand showcase to play for the others on the Solstice. With the Eighth years allowed to come and go as they pleased on holidays, Draco had already decided to stay at Hogwarts until Christmas morning. Many of the students would be spending their holiday here, their families either in Azkaban, under MLE suspicions, or estranged due to one of the former reasons.
Greg was among those students, so he made sure to jot down a note on his hand to thank Mrs. Malfoy for the timely gift.
That evening, following one devastating, unthinkable crash later, Greg was wishing that he had also asked her if it was possible to have another one hand-crafted, meticulously charmed, and delivered from the continent within the week. Upon further thought, he probably should have written her a thank you letter for housing him at Malfoy Manor last summer, since he doubted she would risk him in the manor ever again, given his ability to break valuable gifts.
"Damn," he heard Daphne growl, as the strings of the lute in front of her vibrated jerkily, before snapping apart as the entire instrument morphed back into a book. "Not one word, Millie."
Millicent didn't even bother to smirk, as she made a note on their list, scratching her quill across the parchment in frustrated strokes. Hours of advanced transfiguration and charms attempts had gotten them nowhere close to replicating Draco's broken lute.
Theo was currently inspecting the original lute, pressing his fingers along the cracks of the body and fingerboard. The decent reparo that Greg had cast, despite his panic when it broke – or rather, when he broke it, Greg thought guiltily – wasn't capable of sealing the lute's body back to its original whole. The charm likewise had broken with the wood. And, according to Theo, as per charms theory, the charm could not 'just be pieced back together, I cannot believe you, Goyle, we covered this in second year.'
Greg was almost relieved when Theo turned his exasperation onto Daphne, when Millicent checked the time and frantically noted that they had less than an hour before Draco would be done with dinner and ready to practice with his instrument.
"Come on, Greengrass. Hand it over."
"No!" Daphne protested. "It's been in my family for generations!"
Theo pointed at Goyle. "Well, if we can't transfigure it in the next few minutes, there won't be any more generations of Goyles. Malfoy will see to that. Do you want that on your conscience?"
Goyle prayed that she didn't.
Daphne glared at the two boys, then turned to look at Millicent for support. The other girl apologized, but shared Theo's adamant stance: Daphne's wooden jewelry box had been carved from enchanted wood, which made it the best object to transfigure into a similarly charmed instrument.
Mere minutes before Draco arrived from dinner, the four slipped out of his room, their job accomplished. They hadn't been able to make the soothing charm stick to the instrument, but Millicent had promised that she and Theo would cast it around the Common Room the night of the performance. While Greg would have to sleep with protective charms against Daphne until graduation, at least he wasn't facing death by Draco Malfoy.
If his luck continued, he might even be able to order a new lute from the original crafters in the spring, and make the swap then.
Until then, Greg thought, as he saw Draco head into their dormitory, he was just grateful that Draco only liked to practice new music alone.
IV. Harry
Since yesterday, Harry had been hyperaware of Draco and his fingers: the way the other frequently set down his quill while taking notes in the library, and flexed his fingers against the books he was carrying down the halls, as if relieving an ache. Harry saw the reddened tips of Draco's fingers, and wondered how well the newly formed calluses were healing.
That evoked, yet again, his memory of the hour last morning that he had spent hiding behind a snowbank; he'd nearly interrupted the surprising sight of Draco strumming an instrument, the notes sharp and crisp in the chilly morning air.
The instrument had reminded Harry of one of those acoustic guitars, only more bowl-shaped and held more horizontally. There had been a few weeks at his primary school when a music teacher had brought in a few instruments to encourage interest among the students. Harry remembered the feel from plucking at the guitar, and how his fingers had smarted just from fiddling with the strings during the class period.
Given that he'd barely managed a basic chord back then, Harry was amazed to hear the music that Draco created, with fingers that had shifted so smoothly across the strings. Draco had been playing a tune that Harry hadn't heard before, although it suited a traditional wizarding song. As the other boy had sung a few lines of the song at the end, his voice was huskier than Harry had expected.
Harry had thought about making his presence known when the song ended, but Draco had quickly started the tune again. Harry was still considering walking over, when Draco fumbled the tempo, and cursed in a way that made Harry smile.
He finally decided against interrupting the other, and settled down to enjoy the unexpected, warming music. Even now, a day later, it still resonated in his memory.
Catching sight of Draco walking down the Arithmancy corridor, Harry jogged over to him. "Hey, Draco!"
"Potter," Draco greeted. While Hermione still emphasized the Slytherins' first names pointedly, Harry had accepted their odd practice, and learned to recognize the slight intonation that Draco and his friends used to treat last names as first names.
"I just wanted to say, you're a really great musician," Harry grinned. "I mean, I haven't been able to listen to a lot of music, but I heard you by the forest yesterday, and you were really good."
He'd been expecting Draco to smirk and preen, his confident reaction something that had been much more subdued this term.
Instead, Draco seemed to freeze in a wide-eyed stare.
Backtracking, Harry tried to put him at ease. "Sorry if that was supposed to be private. I liked the song, though. It was nice. Reminded me of the holidays, and how they can be so charming."
He watched, confused, as Draco blanched at the last word. "Draco?"
"I have to go," Draco blurted, and he darted a look at Harry as he moved past him. The frantic, lost look on his face snagged at the fear in Harry's heart, and Harry made a grab at his arm.
"Wait, what's wrong? Draco?"
Draco twisted out of Harry's grip, and his attempt to pat Harry's shoulder was a weak one. "It's nothing, Potter," he said, backing away. "I just remembered there's something I have to take care of, so."
He darted around the corner, and Harry was left very confused and very worried.
V. Pansy
Pansy and Blaise were busy debating their Eighth Year quidditch team's chances against Gryffindor next month, when Draco burst into the study room.
"I charmed Potter," he exclaimed.
The other two stared at him for a moment, before Blaise ventured a "congratulations?"
Pansy wisely intercepted Draco before he could strangle Blaise.
"I thought you wanted Potter," Blaise smirked, dodging Draco's swipe around Pansy's shoulder.
"Not that kind of 'charmed,'" he snarled. "He heard me on the lute yesterday, and he's completely barmy now! He said it was charming. He complimented me – it." He'd dropped into a gloomy mood, and Pansy moved from restraining him to clutching him in support.
She frowned and pointed out, "but the charm isn't supposed to cause that sort of lasting reaction."
Blaise sighed. "Let's face it, if it could happen, it would be Potter. When has he ever reacted the way he's supposed to?" A look that Theo had christened his 'Ravenclaw madman face' lit his face.
"I wonder if the same counter-charm would work?" he mused. "If the charm's behaving abnormally…"
At least that meant that he would help, Pansy thought. They'd all worked so hard to rebuild the reputation of Slytherin House the past few months, and putting Harry Potter under a charm – and without his knowledge – was the most certain way to ruin all of their efforts.
They settled on a plan for Draco to hold Harry's attention while Blaise and Pansy surreptitiously casted the counter-charm. Even as their attempts continued to fail, though, Pansy thought she would have actually been able to keep calm, if Blaise hadn't taken to murmuring 'fascinating!' each time that Potter showed no indication that the charm had worn off. Instead, she had looked on with increasing anxiety as Draco continued to draw Potter into various conversations, and Blaise wove the counter charm around the Gryffindor (he was the more subtle charms caster of the two of them).
Two days later, they were no closer to success, and Draco's conversations with Potter had developed from small talk about the weather – "Mrs. Weasley knits fantastic gloves – here, try them on" – to deep topics that Draco had only confided in Pansy and Greg about – "I'm still surprised how relevant Potions is for the Auror Corps. I'd thought about applying, but… You know." Only a few had deteriorated into fisticuffs – "do shut your face, Potter. The Cannons don't stand a chance with Ripley out this season."
Sometime between listening to Draco and Potter's shared discovery about their enthusiasm for travelling abroad, and the practice sessions in which Harry was now Draco's attentive audience, Pansy had even resigned herself to the idea that she would be spending the Solstice and the days beyond skulking in a corner with Blaise, shooting spells at Potter while he beamed at Draco and they chattered merrily on.
As was in most cases, though, Draco incendioed all of her expectations. His Solstice performance had been the highlight of many of the Slytherins' stay at Hogwarts over the holidays. Judging from the way they'd been hovering around everyone during the performance, Pansy suspected that Greg, Daphne, Millicent, and Theo were going to extra lengths to make sure that Draco was showered with compliments.
Sadly, Draco's mood continued to deteriorate in the days leading to Christmas. Once Potter had waved goodbye and turned away from Draco after their conversations, Draco's smile would crumple into a morose, guilty frown.
Then, the morning of Christmas Eve, when Pansy and Blaise were crouched behind the statue on the fourth floor, in position for another try, they watched as Potter approached Draco for their usual post-breakfast chat.
Draco met Harry's friendly gaze full-on, and Pansy watched with a sinking feeling as his expression shifted into his perfected mask of disdain. Pansy had grown up watching Draco practice it in front of the mirror, and even she flinched to see the bored, contemptuous look directed at Potter. Potter had stopped in place, the bright expression on his face slowly dropping into confusion. Draco maintained eye contact with Potter for a few more seconds, before he dropped it pointedly and pivoted sharply, striding away.
"Draco!" Potter yelled, and sprinted after him. Pansy doubted that he would be able to catch up to her stubborn friend. Indeed, when she was wistfully watching some of the other Eighth Years apparate home for Christmas, she saw Potter stomping around the edge of the castle's apparition wards. His shoulders were slumped, and his hair messier than it had been that morning – from running around in search of Draco or running his hands through his hair in frustration, Pansy wasn't sure.
Potter's expression flickered between the angry one that had seemed stuck on him their sixth year, to something sad that made the same part of Pansy's chest ache as when she had read her grandparents' letter, canceling the traditional Parkinson Christmas dinner.
With a final glance at Hogwarts, Potter apparated away.
VI. Ron
Harry was moping. Before the entire Weasley family had even arrived for Christmas dinner, a clear pattern had already become established to Ron: someone would arrive, kiss his mum and pop by his dad's shed to say hello, make their circuit around the house to greet everyone already there, try to chat with Harry while he gazed sadly off in the distance, and then accost Ron in the living room to ask what was going on with Harry.
When Charlie arrived, running late after a disaster with a shipment of dragon dung fertilizer that the sanctuary was preparing, and decided to forgo his shower to check in with Ron first, Ron cracked and went to find Hermione.
"Hey," she greeted quietly, and Ron slid down the wall to sit next to her. She reached to hold his hand, lacing their fingers together.
"He's still not talking?"
Hermione shook her head. "He shut himself into your room after Bill tried his 'eldest brother' talk."
"Ah." Ron stared at closed door, and it was all too easy to remember the sight of his best friend last year, curled in the tent, glasses digging into his face to feel the pressure and to ground himself.
"Is it –" Ron paused to clear this throat, uncomfortable. "Is it about a guy?"
"Oh no, Ron," Hermione groaned. "I thought you'd already talked to him?"
Ron flushed. It wasn't that he was bothered by Harry liking other men – it was just that Harry's track record so far had been really weird for Ron. First there'd been Cho-who-was-with-Cedric, and then Cho-who-was-with-dead-Cedric, and then Ginny, and Ron did not want to have any conversation with details concerning his little sister, thank you very much. So, if he extrapolated Harry's type, and applied it now to a guy, Ron figured that said guy would make things very, very weird for Ron.
He asked Hermione if she'd noticed Harry hanging around anyone more closely this year.
"I don't think so," she'd replied, and Ron became momentarily distracted by the sight of the sweet wrinkle on her forehead as she thought back to their first term.
"—someone last week," she finished, and Ron blinked.
"Sorry, come again?"
"I said," she punched him lightly on the shoulder, "it might've been someone he got to talking to last week, over the holidays. Since he wanted to stay behind and give everyone some time to…adjust." She smiled weakly, and Ron knew she was thinking of the tight hugs and small talk that he and Ginny had been on the receiving end from their parents all week. They were all slowly on the mend about Fred, but the spectre of another potential loss wasn't something that they could lay to rest anytime soon.
Ron cleared his throat, and shifted in his position. "So who do we know is staying at Hogwarts for the hols?"
They realized at the same time, and Ron groaned.
"Slytherins."
VII. Greg
The leftovers from the Hogwarts Christmas feast were amazing, and Greg had bet Blaise that they would be enough to get Draco out of his bed. As a precaution, though, he'd begged Pansy to help him carry one of every dish back to the dungeons. She'd cast a feather-light charm on her pile, and was levitating it behind them as they walked.
Greg, though, rather liked to feel the heft of the dishes in his hands.
The drawback to that, however, was that he was wholly unprepared to see Granger and Weasley at the entrance to the Common Room, rattling off a list of guesses for its passcode. Pansy already had her wand at the ready, releasing the levitating food with a flick to redirect her wand at the two Gryffindors.
Weasley raised his wand to match her, before Granger tugged his arm down.
"What're you doing here?" Greg asked. He turned to Pansy to follow her cue about how to react, and was confused to see her shift from a hostile stance into her thinking one.
"Wait. It's always about Potter," Pansy sighed, "isn't it?"
Weasley and Granger bristled at her tone.
"No," Pansy interrupted their retorts. "I didn't mean it like that. I get it. It's always about Draco with us."
"What about Draco?" Greg frowned. "And Potter? Is that why he's so gloomy?"
Ron crossed his arms and muttered something about being glad it was mutual.
Pansy turned to Greg. "Of course it's because of Potter. You've seen them hanging around all this week."
Greg felt some of his worry ease. "Yeah, but they always looked happy together. They just need to talk again, and things'll be fine. I thought it was—" he stopped, and shrugged. "Good. It's just Potter."
Weasley squinted at him. "Wait. What did you think it was?"
"Greg?" Pansy asked slowly, inventing quite a few more syllables into his name.
Greg paused for a moment, and tried to think a few steps in advance, like Draco and Blaise had taught him with chess. How would they react if he told them the entire truth about Draco's broken lute? He was pretty sure things would be fine. After all, Draco's Solstice performance was done, and Greg had heard back from the crafting workshop that they would be able to have a replacement ready soon.
Assuming that he could ask them swear to keep the accident quiet from Draco for the next week or so, then all would be right. Greg really couldn't see any downsides to sharing the truth about the lute, so he told Pansy and the Gryffindors about breaking it and transfiguring a replacement.
In Greg's defense, he couldn't have known that Draco and Potter were the two maniacs who enjoyed freezing themselves in the outdoors, instead of sleeping in on the holidays.
As Pansy shouted and pelted him with the food they'd been carrying, Greg looked to Weasley and Granger for an explanation of how exactly things had gone wrong. Weasley was good at chess, he'd heard Theo grumble about a number of times before, and Granger was Granger.
When they'd finally finished laughing, because Pansy was threatening to lob some truly heavenly gravy at them, Granger had requested that they sit down with the others to gather all of the facts and sort the situation out. Greg thought it was rather nice of Blaise to let her and Weasley sit on the sofa closest to the Common Room exit, while everyone else bunched around.
Working in chronological order, they sketched out the problem. Pansy told them about the morning that Draco had received the lute, and Greg sheepishly explained how he'd come to break it. Millicent outlined the attempts to repair and transfigure a replacement, and their failure with replicating the charm – here, Greg noticed how similar Granger's 'Ravenclaw madman face' was to Blaise's.
Pansy was so focused on trying to melt Greg with her glare that Blaise was left to describe Draco's rampant anxiety about thinking he had tricked Potter into being interested in him because of the charm, and the guilt that had caused him to reject Potter.
Both groups took a few more moments to reflect on – or in Theo and Blaise's cases, to savor –how events had woefully spiraled into their present situation.
Hermione tugged at the sleeve of her jumper, and cleared her throat. "So you're going to tell Draco, right?"
Pansy blanched.
After a round of furtive whispering amongst the Slytherins, veiled attempts at bribery, and quite obvious attempts at threats, it fell to Greg to tell Draco that Potter had, indeed, never been under a charm, and that perhaps Draco had cut short a potentially-romantic connection that he hadn't needed to. He squared his shoulders, and thought about the fastest path of retreat, but one that would also give him enough obstacles to duck behind to avoid Draco's hexes.
He stepped into the dormitory, making sure to leave the door open for a quick escape.
He stepped out shortly after.
"Um, he's not here anymore."
VIII. George
George handed Percy his blunt, and sank down further into his bed. Leaning against the wall, Percy took a drag and exhaled the smoke out of the open window.
"Smells worse than the ones you had last month," he commented, as he stared out of the window.
"What did we say about judgement-free zones?"
George grinned slightly when he heard Percy's giggle-snort.
"Oh, it applies to the weed itself now?"
"Yup." George popped the 'p' on his lips. "'cause I grew this myself, you know. So it's mine now, and –"
"—we don’t talk about your problems," Percy recited quietly. He took another hit, and leaned down to give the joint back to George.
George liked these nights. He wasn't sure if Percy liked them, or if Percy was just doing this because he thought that good brothers were supposed to help, and the only way he felt he could help was by getting high with his bereaved brother and trying to ignore said bereavement.
He let his thoughts tumble freely down his mind, and imagined Percy was doing the same.
There was a rustle from outside, close below the window. George quickly vanished the joint, and Percy cast air-freshening, mouth-freshening, and eye glamour charms in quick succession. They'd had a few close calls with their mum by now, and had the procedure down pat.
The voice that came from below definitely wasn't Molly's, though.
"Potter," it hissed, and George perked up in interest. Maybe know they'd figure out what had Harry so down. "Potter!"
Harry's response sounded muffled from the living room. "Malfoy?"
George's eyebrows rose higher.
There was the sound of Harry shuffling around, and of the front door closing as Harry stepped outside. And a few seconds of heavy breathing – although George wasn't sure if that was from the boys below, or him or Percy.
Then, an angry snap from Harry: "Glad you could make the time to come over."
Malfoy made a frustrated noise. "Stop. Just. I'm hungry. And cross. I think mainly at myself, but also you. Or both of us, I don't know."
Percy moved to close the window, and George hit him with a pillow.
"This is a private conversation," Percy whispered, scowling and shoving the pillow back.
"I'm a genius inventor. I get curious," George replied. He held out a new spliff as a peace offering and bribe.
Percy sniffed and attempted to look imperious, even as he caved and settled below the open window. George found himself rather admiring his brother's knack for stealth, as Percy vanished the smoke each time they lit up, while they took turns with the joint and listened to the melodrama unfolding outside.
Mellow. Drama. George giggled, and Percy swatted at him.
George heard something between Harry and Malfoy about having talks, and practicing music, and something about charms – that Malfoy was quite free with his compliments, it seemed. Then there was quite a few 'I'm sorry's from Malfoy, and the shaky tone made George's stomach do a funny flip as he thought of how serious Malfoy seemed to be taking whatever had happened, to be sounding this way.
Harry's tone had also shifted, but from anger to a more calm confusion, and then gentle amusement. He told Malfoy about the sneakoscope that he kept by his bedside, and George was reminded of the protective items that Moody had left for Harry in his will at the end of the war.
Percy nodded along as Harry sheepishly explained to Malfoy that because of those dark arts detectors, there was very little chance that he could've been under a charm without being alerted by those artifacts.
"Oh," they heard Malfoy's soft response to the explanation. "So, it was real. You were serious about. Us."
"Yeah," Harry replied. "Still am, if you are?"
There was a haughty sniff from Malfoy, betrayed by the smile that was clear even through his voice. "Yes, Potter, I am."
Harry laughed. "Great! Good. Good, yes. Hang on, I got you a present for Christmas! Let me get it!" The door swung closed behind him as he dashed back to Ron's room, and Percy and George sat and shared a silence with Malfoy.
They heard him let out a quiet sniffle, then a rough laugh. "You stupid, lucky sod," they heard him breathe to himself.
"Here." Harry returned, and there was the rustle of a present being unwrapped.
"Oh," Malfoy's breath caught. "That's—"
"I thought maybe we could watch the film I was telling you about," Harry said, nervously. "Peter and the Wolf. You said you knew how to play woodwinds, but I didn't know that wasn't one instrument but a bunch, and I don't know which ones you play, but I always though the duck – he's the clarinet in the film – sounded really great."
He forced a laugh. "It's silly."
"A bit," Malfoy teased, "but this is great. Thank you." He paused a beat. "Thank you. Harry."
"Draco," Harry breathed, and then they were kissing.
George clapped his hands over his ears, and Percy reached up to pull the window shut as quickly and silently as he could.
Good ol' Percy.
IX. Draco
Harry was reading through Draco's quidditch magazines, his right arm brushing against Draco's periodically as he turned the pages. Draco nudged back every once in a while, but for most of the past hour, he had been busy drafting a letter to his mother.
Draco had relished the past few months' of payback he'd served Greg; he'd been feigning indecisiveness about whether he would be inviting the other Slytherin back to the Manor, given the winter fiasco. The thing about a comedy of errors, Draco steadfastly believed, was that it simply wasn't funny. Granger could cite all of her literary theory to support the contrary, but this was Draco's firm belief, and he had the evidence to boot.
At the core, though, no irreparable damage had happened. He and Harry were much more than fine, and Granger had even been able to transfigure the fake lute back into Daphne's family heirloom. Draco finished his letter with a note asking mother to extend an invitation to Greg to stay the summer at the Manor.
After all, it would be rather empty, given his travel plans with Harry.
"It sounds wonderful," Granger had smiled, when Harry had described it to their friends. "All those places over the summer, and then--?"
"The world!" Weasley had exclaimed, and Pansy had snickered with him.
Well, and then it would be auror training for Harry, and an arithmancy mastery for Draco. But he liked the sound of 'the world.'
It certainly felt like it.
END
End Notes:
Title comes from a quote from Cabin Pressure: "I have grade seven lute, and I’m not even gonna take grade eight, ’cause my tutor says I’d be better off spending the time getting to concert standard."
Harry mentions the 1946 movie Peter and the Wolf. Of all the movies that tend to get repeatedly shown in American middle school orchestra classes, I liked this one the most. (Heaps better than the Mozart / Salieri biopic, ugh.) Watch it if you haven't; the music's great!
Author/Artist:
ryudaakuPairing(s): Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, Eighth Year Slytherins
Prompt: Eighth Year fic
Draco has a beautiful singing voice, and can play many instruments. When Harry stumbles across his former rival singing traditional carols, strumming a lute, alone on the grounds of Hogwarts near the Solstice, he is utterly charmed. Perhaps literally.
Word Count/Art Medium: 5,129
Rating: PG-13
Contains (Highlight to view): Recreational marijuana use
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: I adored this prompt, and ended up building in a B-story about the friendship / acquaintances-with-future-benefits interactions between the Eighth Year Slytherins too. Hope it's still in the spirit of your prompt,
bk7brokemybrain!Summary: Goyle accidentally breaks Draco's charmed lute, the Eighth Year Slytherins try to do some damage control, Harry is confused, and Draco tries to do The Right Thing. Meanwhile, Ron, Hermione, and Pansy commiserate over the fact that things always end up being about Harry and Draco, and George and Percy are blessedly high and manage not to interrupt an important reconciliation.
I. Harry
It took five fully-grown, large owls to deliver Narcissa Malfoy's gift to Draco. Harry watched from across the Great Hall, as the first years surrounding Draco shoved their breakfast plates and bowls away to clear a space for the package, repeatedly glancing up at it in excitement. A quick glimpse of Draco's pleased expression, eyes crinkling at the corners, was all Harry saw, before the sight of the other was blocked by all of the Slytherin students huddling close to see what had been sent.
It was good to see their excitement, particularly amongst the first years. During the months of Hogwarts' repair, Hermione had confided in Harry about her informal conversations with Professor McGonagall, and the now-Headmistress' concerns about the atmosphere that the first year Slytherins would be sorted under. It had been surprising, and somewhat perplexing, when she had heard from the Slytherins from Harry's year who had survived the war, all of them accepting to return to Hogwarts for an eighth year. Even Bulstrode and Nott, whom Harry heard had transferred to Beauxbatons for their seventh year, had returned to prepare and sit for their NEWTs.
After the sorting, the Slytherins from the upper years had closed ranks around the first and second years in particular. When the suspicious glances and stilted interactions from other Houses had largely tapered off, the older Slytherins had eased away, but it was clear that there now existed a rapport with the younger students that Harry hadn't felt from other Slytherin years.
He watched as Draco stood from the table, saying something to the first years before he left, the package securely nestled in his arms. Greg and Pansy followed soon after, while Bulstrode and Zabini finished their breakfast, and seemed to be entertaining questions from the excited first years.
"Must've been quite a package," Neville commented, and Ginny hummed in agreement. They looked at Harry expectantly.
After coming out to Ginny mid-summer, Harry was still trying to get used to getting the same treatment from Ginny as she would do to any of her brothers.
"Let us know what it is when you find out," Ginny smirked.
Or maybe she'd giving him a bit more grief until she met her next boyfriend.
II. Narcissa
After the last year of tense silences at home and school, many of the older Slytherins had welcomed the rich sounds of Draco's music that came from the Eighth year dormitory. Draco had finally brought his instruments to Hogwarts, both for his own comfort and Narcissa's peace of mind, that he would have something familiar to anchor himself with in this trying year.
Narcissa had been delighted to hear from Greg's owls that Draco had relocated his quiet, private practice sessions to open performances for everyone in the Slytherin Common Room. The charmed lute, thus, was the perfect gift: a new instrument for Draco, and a means to further the admiration from his fellow Slytherins. While she was no longer being actively monitored by the Aurors, Narcissa had no intention of drawing their attention back to the Malfoy name. The professionals who crafted the lute had confirmed that the charm was sanctioned by the Ministry – it was a harmless soothing charm, and would bring a welcome peace for Draco's classmates in the days leading to the Winter Solstice and the holidays.
Perfectly harmless, she wrote in her note to Draco. Do enjoy it, and I will see you for Christmas, darling.
Indeed, when Draco had rushed back to the dormitory after breakfast to test his new instrument, he found that strumming even a short, simple melody had Pansy sighing appreciatively, and Greg sprawling in his bed, feeling ready for a nap that usually only happened after a particularly spectacular feast. Even his own excitement had settled with the charm, the calm spreading inside him as he found himself returning Greg's wide smile.
III. Greg
When they left for class, Greg watched as Draco placed the lute gingerly back in its case and atop his dresser. His friend had announced that he would need a few days to practice, but the lute would be a grand showcase to play for the others on the Solstice. With the Eighth years allowed to come and go as they pleased on holidays, Draco had already decided to stay at Hogwarts until Christmas morning. Many of the students would be spending their holiday here, their families either in Azkaban, under MLE suspicions, or estranged due to one of the former reasons.
Greg was among those students, so he made sure to jot down a note on his hand to thank Mrs. Malfoy for the timely gift.
That evening, following one devastating, unthinkable crash later, Greg was wishing that he had also asked her if it was possible to have another one hand-crafted, meticulously charmed, and delivered from the continent within the week. Upon further thought, he probably should have written her a thank you letter for housing him at Malfoy Manor last summer, since he doubted she would risk him in the manor ever again, given his ability to break valuable gifts.
"Damn," he heard Daphne growl, as the strings of the lute in front of her vibrated jerkily, before snapping apart as the entire instrument morphed back into a book. "Not one word, Millie."
Millicent didn't even bother to smirk, as she made a note on their list, scratching her quill across the parchment in frustrated strokes. Hours of advanced transfiguration and charms attempts had gotten them nowhere close to replicating Draco's broken lute.
Theo was currently inspecting the original lute, pressing his fingers along the cracks of the body and fingerboard. The decent reparo that Greg had cast, despite his panic when it broke – or rather, when he broke it, Greg thought guiltily – wasn't capable of sealing the lute's body back to its original whole. The charm likewise had broken with the wood. And, according to Theo, as per charms theory, the charm could not 'just be pieced back together, I cannot believe you, Goyle, we covered this in second year.'
Greg was almost relieved when Theo turned his exasperation onto Daphne, when Millicent checked the time and frantically noted that they had less than an hour before Draco would be done with dinner and ready to practice with his instrument.
"Come on, Greengrass. Hand it over."
"No!" Daphne protested. "It's been in my family for generations!"
Theo pointed at Goyle. "Well, if we can't transfigure it in the next few minutes, there won't be any more generations of Goyles. Malfoy will see to that. Do you want that on your conscience?"
Goyle prayed that she didn't.
Daphne glared at the two boys, then turned to look at Millicent for support. The other girl apologized, but shared Theo's adamant stance: Daphne's wooden jewelry box had been carved from enchanted wood, which made it the best object to transfigure into a similarly charmed instrument.
Mere minutes before Draco arrived from dinner, the four slipped out of his room, their job accomplished. They hadn't been able to make the soothing charm stick to the instrument, but Millicent had promised that she and Theo would cast it around the Common Room the night of the performance. While Greg would have to sleep with protective charms against Daphne until graduation, at least he wasn't facing death by Draco Malfoy.
If his luck continued, he might even be able to order a new lute from the original crafters in the spring, and make the swap then.
Until then, Greg thought, as he saw Draco head into their dormitory, he was just grateful that Draco only liked to practice new music alone.
IV. Harry
Since yesterday, Harry had been hyperaware of Draco and his fingers: the way the other frequently set down his quill while taking notes in the library, and flexed his fingers against the books he was carrying down the halls, as if relieving an ache. Harry saw the reddened tips of Draco's fingers, and wondered how well the newly formed calluses were healing.
That evoked, yet again, his memory of the hour last morning that he had spent hiding behind a snowbank; he'd nearly interrupted the surprising sight of Draco strumming an instrument, the notes sharp and crisp in the chilly morning air.
The instrument had reminded Harry of one of those acoustic guitars, only more bowl-shaped and held more horizontally. There had been a few weeks at his primary school when a music teacher had brought in a few instruments to encourage interest among the students. Harry remembered the feel from plucking at the guitar, and how his fingers had smarted just from fiddling with the strings during the class period.
Given that he'd barely managed a basic chord back then, Harry was amazed to hear the music that Draco created, with fingers that had shifted so smoothly across the strings. Draco had been playing a tune that Harry hadn't heard before, although it suited a traditional wizarding song. As the other boy had sung a few lines of the song at the end, his voice was huskier than Harry had expected.
Harry had thought about making his presence known when the song ended, but Draco had quickly started the tune again. Harry was still considering walking over, when Draco fumbled the tempo, and cursed in a way that made Harry smile.
He finally decided against interrupting the other, and settled down to enjoy the unexpected, warming music. Even now, a day later, it still resonated in his memory.
Catching sight of Draco walking down the Arithmancy corridor, Harry jogged over to him. "Hey, Draco!"
"Potter," Draco greeted. While Hermione still emphasized the Slytherins' first names pointedly, Harry had accepted their odd practice, and learned to recognize the slight intonation that Draco and his friends used to treat last names as first names.
"I just wanted to say, you're a really great musician," Harry grinned. "I mean, I haven't been able to listen to a lot of music, but I heard you by the forest yesterday, and you were really good."
He'd been expecting Draco to smirk and preen, his confident reaction something that had been much more subdued this term.
Instead, Draco seemed to freeze in a wide-eyed stare.
Backtracking, Harry tried to put him at ease. "Sorry if that was supposed to be private. I liked the song, though. It was nice. Reminded me of the holidays, and how they can be so charming."
He watched, confused, as Draco blanched at the last word. "Draco?"
"I have to go," Draco blurted, and he darted a look at Harry as he moved past him. The frantic, lost look on his face snagged at the fear in Harry's heart, and Harry made a grab at his arm.
"Wait, what's wrong? Draco?"
Draco twisted out of Harry's grip, and his attempt to pat Harry's shoulder was a weak one. "It's nothing, Potter," he said, backing away. "I just remembered there's something I have to take care of, so."
He darted around the corner, and Harry was left very confused and very worried.
V. Pansy
Pansy and Blaise were busy debating their Eighth Year quidditch team's chances against Gryffindor next month, when Draco burst into the study room.
"I charmed Potter," he exclaimed.
The other two stared at him for a moment, before Blaise ventured a "congratulations?"
Pansy wisely intercepted Draco before he could strangle Blaise.
"I thought you wanted Potter," Blaise smirked, dodging Draco's swipe around Pansy's shoulder.
"Not that kind of 'charmed,'" he snarled. "He heard me on the lute yesterday, and he's completely barmy now! He said it was charming. He complimented me – it." He'd dropped into a gloomy mood, and Pansy moved from restraining him to clutching him in support.
She frowned and pointed out, "but the charm isn't supposed to cause that sort of lasting reaction."
Blaise sighed. "Let's face it, if it could happen, it would be Potter. When has he ever reacted the way he's supposed to?" A look that Theo had christened his 'Ravenclaw madman face' lit his face.
"I wonder if the same counter-charm would work?" he mused. "If the charm's behaving abnormally…"
At least that meant that he would help, Pansy thought. They'd all worked so hard to rebuild the reputation of Slytherin House the past few months, and putting Harry Potter under a charm – and without his knowledge – was the most certain way to ruin all of their efforts.
They settled on a plan for Draco to hold Harry's attention while Blaise and Pansy surreptitiously casted the counter-charm. Even as their attempts continued to fail, though, Pansy thought she would have actually been able to keep calm, if Blaise hadn't taken to murmuring 'fascinating!' each time that Potter showed no indication that the charm had worn off. Instead, she had looked on with increasing anxiety as Draco continued to draw Potter into various conversations, and Blaise wove the counter charm around the Gryffindor (he was the more subtle charms caster of the two of them).
Two days later, they were no closer to success, and Draco's conversations with Potter had developed from small talk about the weather – "Mrs. Weasley knits fantastic gloves – here, try them on" – to deep topics that Draco had only confided in Pansy and Greg about – "I'm still surprised how relevant Potions is for the Auror Corps. I'd thought about applying, but… You know." Only a few had deteriorated into fisticuffs – "do shut your face, Potter. The Cannons don't stand a chance with Ripley out this season."
Sometime between listening to Draco and Potter's shared discovery about their enthusiasm for travelling abroad, and the practice sessions in which Harry was now Draco's attentive audience, Pansy had even resigned herself to the idea that she would be spending the Solstice and the days beyond skulking in a corner with Blaise, shooting spells at Potter while he beamed at Draco and they chattered merrily on.
As was in most cases, though, Draco incendioed all of her expectations. His Solstice performance had been the highlight of many of the Slytherins' stay at Hogwarts over the holidays. Judging from the way they'd been hovering around everyone during the performance, Pansy suspected that Greg, Daphne, Millicent, and Theo were going to extra lengths to make sure that Draco was showered with compliments.
Sadly, Draco's mood continued to deteriorate in the days leading to Christmas. Once Potter had waved goodbye and turned away from Draco after their conversations, Draco's smile would crumple into a morose, guilty frown.
Then, the morning of Christmas Eve, when Pansy and Blaise were crouched behind the statue on the fourth floor, in position for another try, they watched as Potter approached Draco for their usual post-breakfast chat.
Draco met Harry's friendly gaze full-on, and Pansy watched with a sinking feeling as his expression shifted into his perfected mask of disdain. Pansy had grown up watching Draco practice it in front of the mirror, and even she flinched to see the bored, contemptuous look directed at Potter. Potter had stopped in place, the bright expression on his face slowly dropping into confusion. Draco maintained eye contact with Potter for a few more seconds, before he dropped it pointedly and pivoted sharply, striding away.
"Draco!" Potter yelled, and sprinted after him. Pansy doubted that he would be able to catch up to her stubborn friend. Indeed, when she was wistfully watching some of the other Eighth Years apparate home for Christmas, she saw Potter stomping around the edge of the castle's apparition wards. His shoulders were slumped, and his hair messier than it had been that morning – from running around in search of Draco or running his hands through his hair in frustration, Pansy wasn't sure.
Potter's expression flickered between the angry one that had seemed stuck on him their sixth year, to something sad that made the same part of Pansy's chest ache as when she had read her grandparents' letter, canceling the traditional Parkinson Christmas dinner.
With a final glance at Hogwarts, Potter apparated away.
VI. Ron
Harry was moping. Before the entire Weasley family had even arrived for Christmas dinner, a clear pattern had already become established to Ron: someone would arrive, kiss his mum and pop by his dad's shed to say hello, make their circuit around the house to greet everyone already there, try to chat with Harry while he gazed sadly off in the distance, and then accost Ron in the living room to ask what was going on with Harry.
When Charlie arrived, running late after a disaster with a shipment of dragon dung fertilizer that the sanctuary was preparing, and decided to forgo his shower to check in with Ron first, Ron cracked and went to find Hermione.
"Hey," she greeted quietly, and Ron slid down the wall to sit next to her. She reached to hold his hand, lacing their fingers together.
"He's still not talking?"
Hermione shook her head. "He shut himself into your room after Bill tried his 'eldest brother' talk."
"Ah." Ron stared at closed door, and it was all too easy to remember the sight of his best friend last year, curled in the tent, glasses digging into his face to feel the pressure and to ground himself.
"Is it –" Ron paused to clear this throat, uncomfortable. "Is it about a guy?"
"Oh no, Ron," Hermione groaned. "I thought you'd already talked to him?"
Ron flushed. It wasn't that he was bothered by Harry liking other men – it was just that Harry's track record so far had been really weird for Ron. First there'd been Cho-who-was-with-Cedric, and then Cho-who-was-with-dead-Cedric, and then Ginny, and Ron did not want to have any conversation with details concerning his little sister, thank you very much. So, if he extrapolated Harry's type, and applied it now to a guy, Ron figured that said guy would make things very, very weird for Ron.
He asked Hermione if she'd noticed Harry hanging around anyone more closely this year.
"I don't think so," she'd replied, and Ron became momentarily distracted by the sight of the sweet wrinkle on her forehead as she thought back to their first term.
"—someone last week," she finished, and Ron blinked.
"Sorry, come again?"
"I said," she punched him lightly on the shoulder, "it might've been someone he got to talking to last week, over the holidays. Since he wanted to stay behind and give everyone some time to…adjust." She smiled weakly, and Ron knew she was thinking of the tight hugs and small talk that he and Ginny had been on the receiving end from their parents all week. They were all slowly on the mend about Fred, but the spectre of another potential loss wasn't something that they could lay to rest anytime soon.
Ron cleared his throat, and shifted in his position. "So who do we know is staying at Hogwarts for the hols?"
They realized at the same time, and Ron groaned.
"Slytherins."
VII. Greg
The leftovers from the Hogwarts Christmas feast were amazing, and Greg had bet Blaise that they would be enough to get Draco out of his bed. As a precaution, though, he'd begged Pansy to help him carry one of every dish back to the dungeons. She'd cast a feather-light charm on her pile, and was levitating it behind them as they walked.
Greg, though, rather liked to feel the heft of the dishes in his hands.
The drawback to that, however, was that he was wholly unprepared to see Granger and Weasley at the entrance to the Common Room, rattling off a list of guesses for its passcode. Pansy already had her wand at the ready, releasing the levitating food with a flick to redirect her wand at the two Gryffindors.
Weasley raised his wand to match her, before Granger tugged his arm down.
"What're you doing here?" Greg asked. He turned to Pansy to follow her cue about how to react, and was confused to see her shift from a hostile stance into her thinking one.
"Wait. It's always about Potter," Pansy sighed, "isn't it?"
Weasley and Granger bristled at her tone.
"No," Pansy interrupted their retorts. "I didn't mean it like that. I get it. It's always about Draco with us."
"What about Draco?" Greg frowned. "And Potter? Is that why he's so gloomy?"
Ron crossed his arms and muttered something about being glad it was mutual.
Pansy turned to Greg. "Of course it's because of Potter. You've seen them hanging around all this week."
Greg felt some of his worry ease. "Yeah, but they always looked happy together. They just need to talk again, and things'll be fine. I thought it was—" he stopped, and shrugged. "Good. It's just Potter."
Weasley squinted at him. "Wait. What did you think it was?"
"Greg?" Pansy asked slowly, inventing quite a few more syllables into his name.
Greg paused for a moment, and tried to think a few steps in advance, like Draco and Blaise had taught him with chess. How would they react if he told them the entire truth about Draco's broken lute? He was pretty sure things would be fine. After all, Draco's Solstice performance was done, and Greg had heard back from the crafting workshop that they would be able to have a replacement ready soon.
Assuming that he could ask them swear to keep the accident quiet from Draco for the next week or so, then all would be right. Greg really couldn't see any downsides to sharing the truth about the lute, so he told Pansy and the Gryffindors about breaking it and transfiguring a replacement.
In Greg's defense, he couldn't have known that Draco and Potter were the two maniacs who enjoyed freezing themselves in the outdoors, instead of sleeping in on the holidays.
As Pansy shouted and pelted him with the food they'd been carrying, Greg looked to Weasley and Granger for an explanation of how exactly things had gone wrong. Weasley was good at chess, he'd heard Theo grumble about a number of times before, and Granger was Granger.
When they'd finally finished laughing, because Pansy was threatening to lob some truly heavenly gravy at them, Granger had requested that they sit down with the others to gather all of the facts and sort the situation out. Greg thought it was rather nice of Blaise to let her and Weasley sit on the sofa closest to the Common Room exit, while everyone else bunched around.
Working in chronological order, they sketched out the problem. Pansy told them about the morning that Draco had received the lute, and Greg sheepishly explained how he'd come to break it. Millicent outlined the attempts to repair and transfigure a replacement, and their failure with replicating the charm – here, Greg noticed how similar Granger's 'Ravenclaw madman face' was to Blaise's.
Pansy was so focused on trying to melt Greg with her glare that Blaise was left to describe Draco's rampant anxiety about thinking he had tricked Potter into being interested in him because of the charm, and the guilt that had caused him to reject Potter.
Both groups took a few more moments to reflect on – or in Theo and Blaise's cases, to savor –how events had woefully spiraled into their present situation.
Hermione tugged at the sleeve of her jumper, and cleared her throat. "So you're going to tell Draco, right?"
Pansy blanched.
After a round of furtive whispering amongst the Slytherins, veiled attempts at bribery, and quite obvious attempts at threats, it fell to Greg to tell Draco that Potter had, indeed, never been under a charm, and that perhaps Draco had cut short a potentially-romantic connection that he hadn't needed to. He squared his shoulders, and thought about the fastest path of retreat, but one that would also give him enough obstacles to duck behind to avoid Draco's hexes.
He stepped into the dormitory, making sure to leave the door open for a quick escape.
He stepped out shortly after.
"Um, he's not here anymore."
VIII. George
George handed Percy his blunt, and sank down further into his bed. Leaning against the wall, Percy took a drag and exhaled the smoke out of the open window.
"Smells worse than the ones you had last month," he commented, as he stared out of the window.
"What did we say about judgement-free zones?"
George grinned slightly when he heard Percy's giggle-snort.
"Oh, it applies to the weed itself now?"
"Yup." George popped the 'p' on his lips. "'cause I grew this myself, you know. So it's mine now, and –"
"—we don’t talk about your problems," Percy recited quietly. He took another hit, and leaned down to give the joint back to George.
George liked these nights. He wasn't sure if Percy liked them, or if Percy was just doing this because he thought that good brothers were supposed to help, and the only way he felt he could help was by getting high with his bereaved brother and trying to ignore said bereavement.
He let his thoughts tumble freely down his mind, and imagined Percy was doing the same.
There was a rustle from outside, close below the window. George quickly vanished the joint, and Percy cast air-freshening, mouth-freshening, and eye glamour charms in quick succession. They'd had a few close calls with their mum by now, and had the procedure down pat.
The voice that came from below definitely wasn't Molly's, though.
"Potter," it hissed, and George perked up in interest. Maybe know they'd figure out what had Harry so down. "Potter!"
Harry's response sounded muffled from the living room. "Malfoy?"
George's eyebrows rose higher.
There was the sound of Harry shuffling around, and of the front door closing as Harry stepped outside. And a few seconds of heavy breathing – although George wasn't sure if that was from the boys below, or him or Percy.
Then, an angry snap from Harry: "Glad you could make the time to come over."
Malfoy made a frustrated noise. "Stop. Just. I'm hungry. And cross. I think mainly at myself, but also you. Or both of us, I don't know."
Percy moved to close the window, and George hit him with a pillow.
"This is a private conversation," Percy whispered, scowling and shoving the pillow back.
"I'm a genius inventor. I get curious," George replied. He held out a new spliff as a peace offering and bribe.
Percy sniffed and attempted to look imperious, even as he caved and settled below the open window. George found himself rather admiring his brother's knack for stealth, as Percy vanished the smoke each time they lit up, while they took turns with the joint and listened to the melodrama unfolding outside.
Mellow. Drama. George giggled, and Percy swatted at him.
George heard something between Harry and Malfoy about having talks, and practicing music, and something about charms – that Malfoy was quite free with his compliments, it seemed. Then there was quite a few 'I'm sorry's from Malfoy, and the shaky tone made George's stomach do a funny flip as he thought of how serious Malfoy seemed to be taking whatever had happened, to be sounding this way.
Harry's tone had also shifted, but from anger to a more calm confusion, and then gentle amusement. He told Malfoy about the sneakoscope that he kept by his bedside, and George was reminded of the protective items that Moody had left for Harry in his will at the end of the war.
Percy nodded along as Harry sheepishly explained to Malfoy that because of those dark arts detectors, there was very little chance that he could've been under a charm without being alerted by those artifacts.
"Oh," they heard Malfoy's soft response to the explanation. "So, it was real. You were serious about. Us."
"Yeah," Harry replied. "Still am, if you are?"
There was a haughty sniff from Malfoy, betrayed by the smile that was clear even through his voice. "Yes, Potter, I am."
Harry laughed. "Great! Good. Good, yes. Hang on, I got you a present for Christmas! Let me get it!" The door swung closed behind him as he dashed back to Ron's room, and Percy and George sat and shared a silence with Malfoy.
They heard him let out a quiet sniffle, then a rough laugh. "You stupid, lucky sod," they heard him breathe to himself.
"Here." Harry returned, and there was the rustle of a present being unwrapped.
"Oh," Malfoy's breath caught. "That's—"
"I thought maybe we could watch the film I was telling you about," Harry said, nervously. "Peter and the Wolf. You said you knew how to play woodwinds, but I didn't know that wasn't one instrument but a bunch, and I don't know which ones you play, but I always though the duck – he's the clarinet in the film – sounded really great."
He forced a laugh. "It's silly."
"A bit," Malfoy teased, "but this is great. Thank you." He paused a beat. "Thank you. Harry."
"Draco," Harry breathed, and then they were kissing.
George clapped his hands over his ears, and Percy reached up to pull the window shut as quickly and silently as he could.
Good ol' Percy.
IX. Draco
Harry was reading through Draco's quidditch magazines, his right arm brushing against Draco's periodically as he turned the pages. Draco nudged back every once in a while, but for most of the past hour, he had been busy drafting a letter to his mother.
Draco had relished the past few months' of payback he'd served Greg; he'd been feigning indecisiveness about whether he would be inviting the other Slytherin back to the Manor, given the winter fiasco. The thing about a comedy of errors, Draco steadfastly believed, was that it simply wasn't funny. Granger could cite all of her literary theory to support the contrary, but this was Draco's firm belief, and he had the evidence to boot.
At the core, though, no irreparable damage had happened. He and Harry were much more than fine, and Granger had even been able to transfigure the fake lute back into Daphne's family heirloom. Draco finished his letter with a note asking mother to extend an invitation to Greg to stay the summer at the Manor.
After all, it would be rather empty, given his travel plans with Harry.
"It sounds wonderful," Granger had smiled, when Harry had described it to their friends. "All those places over the summer, and then--?"
"The world!" Weasley had exclaimed, and Pansy had snickered with him.
Well, and then it would be auror training for Harry, and an arithmancy mastery for Draco. But he liked the sound of 'the world.'
It certainly felt like it.
END
End Notes:
Title comes from a quote from Cabin Pressure: "I have grade seven lute, and I’m not even gonna take grade eight, ’cause my tutor says I’d be better off spending the time getting to concert standard."
Harry mentions the 1946 movie Peter and the Wolf. Of all the movies that tend to get repeatedly shown in American middle school orchestra classes, I liked this one the most. (Heaps better than the Mozart / Salieri biopic, ugh.) Watch it if you haven't; the music's great!
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Date: 2015-12-27 03:23 pm (UTC)Greg! Theo pointed at Goyle. "Well, if we can't transfigure it in the next few minutes, there won't be any more generations of Goyles. Malfoy will see to that. Do you want that on your conscience?"
Goyle prayed that she didn't.
Hahaha.
I have to say though, Draco has the best friends. Of course, they seem to act out of fear, but still! LOL Very good friends. :)
I love smitten!Harry, and Draco feeling lousy thinking the smittenness was via 'charm'. Awww. I love this part of how their conversations started from casual to deep topics and then – !!!!! – "Only a few had deteriorated into fisticuffs". I love that these two need that sort of clarification. :D
I love the bit of George and Good ol' Percy. :)
And the ending, the world, it feels like it, yes. It's lovely. Thank you, MA! Also thank you for the movie rec. :D
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Date: 2016-01-26 06:02 am (UTC)Hope you enjoy the movie! :)
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Date: 2015-12-28 01:34 am (UTC)Loved Draco's line "You stupid, lucky sod."
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Date: 2016-01-26 06:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-28 04:14 am (UTC)Poor Greg. I am glad he's going to get another invitation to the Manor, even after breaking Draco's lute.
I do love how the Slytherins all came together on Draco's behalf, I always like it when he has friends.
Percy and George getting high was hilarious, as were Percy's well-practiced charms in the event that someone (Molly) should find them. *g*
And the make up scene was sweet. :)
Love their plans for the summer. Looks like the world is their oyster indeed.
Well done!
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Date: 2016-01-26 06:06 am (UTC)I had a blast writing the make-up scene and George & Percy in general, so I'm delighted that it came across as a fun read :)
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Date: 2015-12-28 05:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-26 06:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-31 08:55 pm (UTC)Really well done, a lovely Christmas story :)
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Date: 2016-01-26 06:09 am (UTC)My guideline for writing George and Percy was how many LOLs I could get if I shared snippets of their conversations out of context ;)
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Date: 2016-01-01 09:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-26 06:10 am (UTC)Yeah, this Draco is very dreamy. Luckily this Harry's a bit more astute and realizes what a lucky guy he is, ahaha
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Date: 2016-01-03 10:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-26 06:11 am (UTC)