It's No Great Mystery (Drarry)

Chapter Four

This was the second time now that George had chosen to stay without Harry asking him to, and since only Harry could affect the timeline...

George was staying for him. He thought back to the first time it had happened, and decided that he'd probably seemed kind of down that morning. Which meant George wasn't just staying for Harry; he was staying because he was worried about him.

Warmth filled Harry's chest, and he turned to face George properly, giving him his full attention.

"That was good of you," Harry said as sincerely as he could manage.

Sometimes it was hard to be sincere with George, and yet he'd always kind of been the more serious of the twins—by comparison anyway. Perhaps that was why it was difficult; it made Fred's absence all the more obvious.

"So, are you alright?" George asked, folding his arms and leaning against the pillar. He'd forgone the feathers on his robes this time. They were decked out instead with shimmering gems along the lining.

Harry paused. "Not really," he said honestly. He gestured vaguely towards the doors. "This whole thing just seems a bit... rude."

George nodded, a shadow crossing his face, although his voice was light when he spoke. "I know exactly what you mean."

"You two had better not be mocking my entry," a familiar drawl came from behind them, and Harry turned to find Pansy watching them suspiciously.

She looked rather good, he supposed. Her hair was cut into a sharp bob that had been curled and tousled into some kind of effortless wave that had likely taken hours. Her silver robes were cut to fall and drape across her like a Muggle dress, and Harry for the life of him could not remember if she'd looked like this the first night. She must have; nothing could have changed it, right?

"They're mocking the Ball, Pans. Didn't you hear?" Draco's laconic voice cut in before either of them could answer, and Harry realised he'd been leaning against the pillar behind him and George, listening unashamedly.

George tilted his head, regarding Draco with a narrow-eyed expression. "You don't seem peeved to hear that, Malfoy. Would've thought you'd be all over something like this."

Draco sneered. "You're thinking of my father," he said tightly.

It was the first time Draco had acknowledged his father so casually in front of Harry. Harry sucked in a breath, waiting for the argument to come. But seconds passed with no escalation, and Harry realised—again—that the argument hadn't happened because Harry hadn't started it.

Ouch.

George wrinkled his nose. "I'd rather not think about your dad, if it's all the same to you."

And Draco laughed. It was only a small sound—a huff of breath that would so easily be missed. But Harry heard it, and George's lips twitched into a smile, and before he knew what was happening Draco had extended his hand to George and they were shaking.

"I'm sorry about your brother," Draco said carefully, his gaze holding George's steadily. "I know he meant a lot to you."

Harry thought it was remarkably courageous to look George Weasley in the eye and apologise for that, given everything. Given Bill. And George must have thought so too, because he eyed Draco carefully and then nodded once, drawing his hand back without rushing the departure.

"Thanks, Malfoy," he said. "You're a bit of a git, but..." George shrugged, his eyes flicking to Harry for some reason. "Heard you did some good in the end. Glad you sorted your shit out." He paused and narrowed his eyes. "You did sort your shit out, didn't you?"