35

Pansy Parkinson had been daydreaming about this night for a little over a month now. All of her fantasies had followed the same basic plot; she dance, laugh, and be the envy of every other girl in the room. And at the end of the night, Draco would come crawling back, professing his undying love and begging her to give him a second chance.

Of course, all of her daydreams had forgotten one vitally important fact: she couldn't stand Harry Potter. It had slipped her mind when he had asked her (she reasoned in her head that it wasn't her fault that he was so good looking), and since then she had simply been refusing to acknowledge the fact.

But tonight, forced to spend almost the entire evening with him, it was sort of hard to ignore.

There was also the fact that he fancied her boyfriend. That was kind of annoying as well.

At the minute, almost halfway through the evening, she was sat alone at a table as her date had run off with his friends. They were currently in the midst of a very un-subtle drinking game, though the teachers didn't appear to have noticed, seeing as they were all rather tipsy themselves. Pansy sneered at the group of students, knocking back her own firewhiskey and wondering when she could leave.

"What the fuck, Pansy?" She turned her head slightly, cursing inwardly when she saw the tell-tale platinum blonde that identified Draco.

"What the fuck, what, Draco?" She asked in a husky voice, staring at him innocently with smoky eyes, "You didn't think he was all yours, did you, sweetie?" His face fell and she laughed. Several students from nearby tables turned to look at her, unnerved by the slightly hysterical edge to her laughter but she ignored them. She always had been a bit of a lightweight, and it seemed the firewhiskey was going straight to her head.

Draco sat down, a few strands of his blonde hair falling into his face before he impatiently brushed them away. He was dressed as the perfect pureblood son tonight, in elegantly cut robes of plain black, with his usually slicked back hair pulled into a braid at the nape of his neck. He must have used a spell to lengthen it, Pansy thought idly as she watched him gather the courage to talk. This could take a while, he didn't have much courage at all and that which he did have was scattered far and wide.

"He will never be all mine, Pansy. Never. So don't talk about things that you know nothing about." A crease appeared between Pansy's eyebrows as she watched him walk away. But then the firewhiskey kicked in and she laughed and she laughed and she laughed.

All the anger ebbed out of Draco as he walked away from Pansy. He had approached her in a rage, intent on screaming at her if he had to, to make her feel as bad as he did right now.

But then she had hit a cord and Draco (who fooled himself far better than he would ever fool anybody else) was fed up of lying. So Merlin help him, he admitted it to himself.

He fancied Harry bloody Potter. Probably had done since first year, since he had been the only boy worth having who Draco wasn't able to have. The only boy worth having to ever reject Draco.

And he would never have him. Oh, not because Potter didn't want it, Draco could see by his actions after that kiss that the Gryffindor wouldn't be totally against it all. But Lucius would kill them both. And Draco didn't want to die.

He was just a Slytherin, after all. And only Gryffindors died for love.

"Okay, okay," Harry muttered, grinning around at his friends, "Next time you see Flitwick checking out McGonagall you've got to take two shots." The group laughed and turned as one to watch their two teachers. Within minutes a great cheer went up.

"One!" Seamus called as they all downed their first shot, "Two!"

"Right, next," Dean started, and everyone leaned forwards to catch his words, though some were swaying slightly in their seats. A voice from behind him called Harry's name though and he forced his attention away from the group and turned to find Fleur and Blaise walking towards him.

"'Arry," Fleur greeted, allowing him to kiss her sloppily on the cheek, though she wrinkled her nose slightly at the smell of firewhiskey on his breath.

"Fleur! Blaise! And how are my darlings getting on?" Harry asked happily, a stupid grin pasted on his face as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at them.

"You did realise that Fleur is three years older than me when you set us up, didn't you?" Blaise asked, amusement dancing in his eyes. Harry's grin dropped, his mouth forming a silent 'oh' before he cracked up laughing.

"Oh, Fleur, you cradle robber!" he gasped out, in between mad cackles.

"Yes, yes, 'Arry," Fleur said, rolling her eyes before turning to Blaise, "Are you sure 'e ees not too drunk for thees?" Blaise sighed, rubbing his eyes and turning to see that Draco had almost made it out of the room.

"He'll have to do," the Slytherin muttered, hauling a still-laughing Harry to his feet and beginning to drag the boy after his best friend, "He's all we've got."

Harry had no idea what was going on. One minute he had been laughing at Fleur and Blaise (though he couldn't for the life of him remember why) and the next minute Blaise was calling to the retreating form of Draco Malfoy, who turned around just in time to have Harry shoved towards him.

"What the- Potter?" Draco asked as he caught the grinning Gryffindor.

"'Allo Drakey!" Harry exclaimed, before bursting into laughter again.

"What is this?" Draco asked, turning to Blaise with a frown on his face. But Blaise had already left, disappearing back into Great Hall, leaving Draco alone in an empty corridor with an extremely drunk Harry Potter. Who right now was slumped in the blonde's arms, singing 'Drakey, Drakey, Drakey-poo!' over and over again under his breath. Draco sighed; he really wasn't in the mood for this. All of his usual anger and bravado and smug self-satisfaction had drained out of him with those few words from Pansy. And now he had the subject of his melancholy thrust upon him.

Oh, Merlin. He really didn't want to die. He knew that. So why wasn't he able to just walk away from Harry Potter right then?

Instead, he hefted Harry into his arms a bit better and snagged the boy's hip flask, taking a long drink. If he was going to get through this night, you better believe he was going to be drunk.

"Come on, Harry," he muttered, "Let's get you some fresh air."

"So," Remus began, smiling at his companions across the dinner table, "What do you think the kids are getting up to?" Molly and Arthur smiled fondly, imagining a night of dancing and laughter, a few pranks maybe, and bed before midnight.

Sirius snorted into his eggnog, thinking that his godson was probably putting good use to that never-empty hip flask of his.

Dobby didn't react to the question, having fallen asleep about half an hour before. House elves, as it turned out, were enormous light weights.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be having the time of their lives," Molly sighed happily.