Pride & Prejudice - A Drarry tale
The humble village of Meryton had never been graced by a celebrity before. That was made clear by the excitement that reached fever pitch when Potter was spotted amongst the Weasley party as they arrived at the Beltane celebrations by a Pegasus driven carriage. Much to Draco’s mortification, people had actually clapped (clapped!) as Ron Weasley, his sister, one of his brothers with his veela wife, and Harry Potter stepped onto the celebration grounds.
For quite a while, all Draco could hear was murmurings about the Saviour’s vivid green eyes, numerous Gringott vaults and strong jawline.
However, the sighing and fawning gradually petered out as Potter continued to stand glumly in a dark corner, refusing to dance or engage in conversation. When approached by enthusiastic townsfolk, he either answered in monosyllables or simply stared them down.
Soon, it became clear that as far as popular sentiment was concerned, defeating a dark lord and saving everyone's skin did not absolve one from the grave sin of being unsociable. Within the span of an hour, Potter had gone from being The Chosen One to The Arrogant One, and the talk of the gathering was no longer his broad shoulders and midnight Black hair but his “haughty airs”, his “condescending manners” and “arrogant demeanour".
Highly amused by how things were turning out, Draco almost didn't mind the conversation he later overheard. Almost.
He had retreated to the shadows to catch his breath after a very lively round of jumping the bonfire that had seen him divest himself of his long cloak and roll up his shirt sleeves.
“Brooding as usual, or are you annoyed at something in particular?” He couldn't help but overhear the loud voice of Ron Weasley from the other side of the rose bush.
Instead of moving away, Draco inched closer, curiosity getting the better of him.
“I’m not brooding.” A quieter, deeper voice. Potter. “I danced and I talked. Same as you.”
“You danced once with Ginny and chatted with Bill. The point of a party is to mingle with the people that you didn't arrive with.”
“Well you're hogging the only person in the … who … worth talking to,” Potter grumbled, his voice slightly cut off from the orchestra that had begun to play again.
Draco almost gasped. Did Potter have a crush on Blaise? This was news! He angled his ear in their direction, trying to hear better.
“Well he seems sensible … good looking, … more than I can say for …. Not that I'm interested, but forgive … not wanting to dance with Crabbe or –”
“Why not … Draco? … easy on the eyes. … go talk … apology letter … ball’s in your court”
“Malfoy?” Draco cringed as Potter yelled incredulously. “You can’t be serious!”
Weasley made shushing noises but to no avail. Potter was bent on expressing his disgust at the suggestion of socialising with Draco.
“I'm not going to dance with Draco fucking Malfoy.”
“For for fucks sake Harry, someone could hear you! Merlin! I wasn't suggesting you elope with the bloke. Maybe if you talked you'd realise he's changed and could be friends.”
Potter scoffed. “... know what I think of all of that,” he said sharply.
Draco spun around and left. Harry Potter was a prick. He'd always been a prick and would remain a prick. There was a brief period after the war when Draco had lost sight of this fact, being overwhelmed with gratitude towards Potter for giving a statement in his defence. But it all came rushing back now. Harry Potter may be the poster boy for the light side, he may be brave and good, but that didn’t change the fact that he was a judgmental, condescending git.
Determined not to let stupid Potter spoil his evening, Draco set off to search for Pansy and Blaise. A dramatic comic reenactment of the overheard conversation might be just the thing to lift his mood.
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