Letters

June: The Viennese Waltz

'Not that you don't look very fine, Mr Potter, in your fancy robes,' Draco whispered in Harry's ear a little later.

'Just fine?' Harry couldn't help asking.

'I said "very fine" though I might concede to "mighty fine",' Draco said with his nose in the air and not looking at Harry.

'I like your robes too, are they new?'

'"Like", Potter, "like"! These robes probably cost more than the Dursley's measly motor vehicle; they deserve more than "like"!'

'Okay ... they're...' Harry smirked, '...very nice.' He spun Draco into a succession of canter-pivots so that Draco's robes flared out behind him. 'And I hope they didn't cost that much because that's ludicrous!'

'What have I told you about leading when it's my turn? And they're worth it, I look like a king in the them.'

'You'd manage to look like a king even if you were wearing a hessian sack.'

'Clearly. I'm glad you recognised my natural regal bearing,' Draco said haughtily.

'The question is, do you feel like a king in them?' Harry asked, surprisingly astutely.

Draco's sneering expression faltered slightly. 'Not really,' he said quietly. 'I feel over-dressed and out of place. I don't think I'll ever belong here at these functions. I've seen the way they all look at me; like I'm something distasteful on the bottom of their shoes.'

Harry switched to taking the lead. 'Not to me, Draco. Not to me,' he whispered. 'You're the most wonderful, colourful, beautiful person here and I'm proud to be dancing with you, to be here with you. And,' he added quietly, 'to be a thing with you.'

They had ended up in the centre of the dance floor, directly under the mirror ball which was sending out its spots of rotating reflections around the darkened room.

They stopped dancing and stood facing each other in very close proximity in the middle of all the swirling mayhem, a moment of stillness that was just the two of them, leaving the rest a blur of colourful movement rippling around them.

'Can I kiss you, Harry? Here, in the middle of all this?' Draco whispered.

'Yes,' Harry replied with an exhale.

They both leant forward slightly until their lips came together cautiously and Harry, as usual, marvelled at how soft Draco's lips were. He was slightly surprised to find they tasted of coconut lipsalve; that was new, but he also rather liked it. It was a chaste kiss, no more than a brief lingering peck, and it didn't necessarily say anything about the nature of their relationship (if you ignored all other evidence that was mounting up around them).

Draco hummed slightly, then pulled away and turned on his heel, a slight smile drawing at his lips as he wove between the people towards the door of the ballroom with his head held high before disappeared into the night. Harry checked his watch, it was 11.45pm exactly.

'You're grinning like an inane idiot,' Ron said as he stepped up to dance with Harry.

Harry shrugged at his best friend. 'I'm happy,' he said simply.

'Good,' said Ron. 'It's not often there's someone who makes you truly happy. Hang on to him, mate,' Ron said wisely.

'I intend to,' Harry replied, equally as wisely.

When he got home, Hermes was waiting for him, the note simply said: I hope you didn't mind!

Harry replied: Of course I didn't mind. Though we were probably photographed so it'll be all over the newspapers tomorrow, again. I'll have to give Peanut another pay rise. When can we next see each other? Btw, I like coconut lipsalve.