Always Look Your Finest
Harry and Draco have to chaperone the Yule Ball. At least this year, Harry’s wearing a suit that fits. Draco, however, always looks his finest.
For @loveyprophet
(Read it on AO3 here)
Harry stood in the corner of the room, fidgeting with his wedding ring and spinning it around his finger—a nervous habit he’d picked up over the years.
His eyes scanned the large hall.
The decorations were beautiful: the hall looked as if it were made of ice, the pillars shimmering in the light. Chandeliers hung overhead, decorated with strings of glass beads that looked like crystal and hung like icicles. The illusion of snowflakes fell around them, but it wasn’t cold.
The large hall was filled with students, some sitting at the tables and talking quietly while others danced.
Harry remembered the oversized, outdated suit he’d worn to his first Yule Ball, nothing like his tailored suit now. He’d insisted on buying it himself—not wanting to risk Draco dressing him in some extravagant outfit. In the end he’d settled for a black suit jacket, dress pants and a charcoal grey shirt. A burgundy pocket square with a gold trim added a touch of colour to the look.
He cleaned up nice, despite the tousled mess of his brown hair.
He had intended to wear a tie, but it kept choking him. So in the end, he’d opted to go without one, leaving the top buttons of his dress shirt undone.
The only jewellery he wore was the simple gold wedding ring. He knew Draco had wanted something extravagant, and it still astonished him that his husband had settled for something as simple as a gold band. But, of course, he had to add a touch of extravagance to it and had an infinity symbol engraved on the underside.
“He’ll be here,” a familiar voice told him.
He glanced over his shoulder, smiling as Hermione stepped over to his side.
She wore an elegant silk dress, the rippling fabric shifting between shades of indigo and violet. The asymmetrical strap sat atop her shoulder, laying like a sash across half her torso and trickling down into a billowing skirt that pooled around her feet. The exposed part of the torso what made of a skin-toned bodice that was covered in embroidered flowers and leaves the same colour as the rest of the dress. To balance out the silk strap of the asymmetrical strap, a slit ran up the opposing side of her skirt. Her long hair had been pinned back from her face by hairpins decorated with diamantes, but left untied; the unruly mess of curls hanging around her shoulders.
“You look lovely,” Harry told her.
“You don’t look to bad yourself,” Hermione replied, offering him a sweet smile as she stepped over to his side. “You clean up really nice.”
Harry ran his fingers though his hair, raking back the mess of curls as he dropped his gaze to hide his bashful smile.
“And then there’s Draco,” Hermione started.
Harry bolted upright, his eyes scanning the room for the familiar face.
The sight of him took Harry’s breath away.