Letters

February: The American Smooth

'Of course,' Draco smirked wickedly. 'I wasn't going to allow anyone else that privilege!'

'But we can play a Seeker's Game anytime now.'

'I know, but imagine, in a stadium, the two of us.' His eyes sparkled with excitement. 'You know you could raise more money by selling tickets to watch. You could do a blind auction, if the Wasps will agree to it.'

Harry smiled too. 'I'll get Mione on to it.'

'Your arse is gonna be so beaten, Potter. In front of everyone. I think I'll invite The Prophet, for a large donation...'

Harry quirked an eyebrow, 'resorting back to surnames, Draco?'

'It doesn't seem right calling you "Harry" in public,' he muttered quietly.

'Well, it's my name so use it or I won't dance with you again,' Harry's eyes glinted dangerously as he teased Draco.

There was a brief silence as Draco looked away with pursed lips. Then he said haughtily, 'don't let it go to your head, but I think you've only stepped on my toes twice since we started...'

'I haven't at all and I'm not used to following.'

'Well, I'm glad you've automatically conceded to my obviously superior and dominant masculine position.'

Harry smiled at that and they fell silent for a while as they glided around the dance floor.

He'd ended up having dance lessons after the war. Actually, his Personal Assistant, Fay Dunbar, had insisted. Fay, whom everyone called "Peanut", said it was better that way because there were so many functions he was expected to attend and dance at. Peanut was not to be argued with so Harry dutifully attended the lessons she'd organised. He begrudgingly admitted that they meant he stopped making a fool of himself and stopped tripping over or stamping on his dance partner's feet. Turned out, he quite enjoyed them once he'd got used to elaborating on the basics. Gin definitely appreciated that Harry had had lessons because, in the early days, it was invariably Gin's feet which got stomped on.

'Your new glasses are better than the last ones they picked for you, did Peanut have a say in it?' Draco said, staring at Harry intently.

'Yes. Just better?'

'Yes. But I must say, your Auror dress robes are rather garish.'

'You mean you don't like the cloak lined with Gryffindor-red.'

'Precisely, and really, do you need to wear all those medals? You look like an over-decorated Christmas tree.'

Harry smiled, 'I have to wear them for certain Ministry dos, they insist, especially when I have to do the fucking speeches.'

'Humph! Well, I suppose the tall boots are okay.'

They danced on and when someone came over to ask if they could cut in, Draco apologised politely but said no, firmly.

'Have you been here all evening? I wish you'd told me you were coming,' Harry asked.

'Most of the evening, hiding in the shadows,' he conceded. 'I nearly didn't come at all but I thought I'd surprise you.'

'How does your first outing feel then?'

'Well, I have already been out to get the desperately needed haircut, obviously, and to pick up the new robes. But all these people are a bit overwhelming after three years of just my mother and the occasional visitor from the Ministry...' he caught the glint in Harry's eye and muttered 'stop it!' again quietly.

'Do you want to escape somewhere quieter?' Harry asked.

'It's undoubtedly better not to, we're probably causing enough gossip as it is, and Granger is positively watching us with hawk-eyes. I get the feeling she'll hex me if I even took a step towards the door with you.'