it's bingo time!! thank you again @drarrymicrofic for supplying my bingo card and for the prompt!
prompt: expect
bingo card prompts completed: 1000 words, fake dating
word count: 1000
“Mate,” Ron said as he sat down opposite Harry, sliding him over his pint of goblin ale. Harry raised his eyebrow at his tone - it could mean nothing good.
“You’ll never guess the rumour I heard going around; apparently you and Malfoy are dating.”
“What!” Harry spluttered, nearly spilling his drink. “Who said that?”
“Pansy Parkinson. She said it’s all meant to be a secret affair, that’s why you’ve never mentioned it.”
“But who told Parkinson? She wouldn’t make up a story about Malfoy…”
“Well, that’s the thing,” Ron leaned in, “Malfoy is the one saying it! At some fancy party he was at.”
“... That can’t be right,” Harry muttered, a frown on his face. Ron just shrugged, sipping his ale.
“I heard that it’s not in the papers yet, because the Malfoy publicist has already threatened to sue if they leak anything.” Harry heard Lavender Brown whisper to her colleague in the Ministry canteen. She obviously hadn’t spotted Harry sitting at the table behind them. “Draco is very protective of Harry’s privacy; and Harry must be worried about the danger Draco could be in with his line of work.”
“It’s so romantic, isn’t it?” the other girl sighed while Harry rolled his eyes. Bloody Malfoy and his stories. Harry really should turn around and tell them it was all bullshit. But… instead he forced down his lunch.
Harry doesn’t let Draco off with his storytelling, naturally. If there is one thing he is good at, it’s stalking Malfoy, and so it doesn’t take Harry too long to find out that they are apparently meant to be hosting a garden party at Malfoy Manor the following Saturday. He puts on his formal robes and apparates to the gates; the house elf there lets him in without a word.
Draco was standing in the middle of the garden, by the ridiculously large fountain. His robes were midnight blue with silver accents, cut perfectly to fit his body. His voice seemed to carry throughout the garden, smooth like honey but so bloody posh.
“-it is such a shame, of course, and Harry is sad to have missed this.” Draco said with a soft sigh, taking a delicate sip of his champagne. Harry couldn’t see it, but he could only imagine that long neck bobbing with the swallow. The elderly witch he was talking to (who reeked of old pureblood money) nodded in understanding, taking in every lie with bated breath. “He sends his apologies; he’s just incredibly busy with the Aurors. I’m so proud of him, his dedication is so inspiring, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would,” Harry said, as he snuck an arm around Draco’s waist. Draco yelped at his voice and jumped at his touch, spilling the champagne. It ran down his hand and dripped from his wrist, but he didn’t seem to notice. He spun around, grey eyes wide and a look of panic on his pointy face. Harry just grinned back, enjoying the very un-Malfoy display in front of him.
“H-Harry!” Draco squeaked, reaching up with his free hand to grab Harry’s robes in a tight grip. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing here, uh, darling?”
“Weren’t you expecting me?” Harry asked, pulling Draco closer. “After all, we did organise this little soiree together.”
“But… but what about your shift, that you said you couldn’t change?” Draco challenged back as the shock wore off.
“Draco,” Harry reached out with his free hand to caress his cheek, his grin getting wider. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Draco certainly caught the double meaning, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“Aw, isn’t that just lovely,” the elderly witch cooed, raising her glass to them. “To young love, I say!”
Before Harry could open his mouth, Draco plastered a practised smile on his face. “Please, excuse us while I get Harry and I a drink,” Draco said, pulling Harry by his robes to get him to follow. He ignored the flutes of champagne floating around him and pulled him behind what Harry thought was a shed, but he realised this must have been where the peacocks used to sleep.
“What the hell, Potter?” Draco spat, finally letting go of his robes. Harry smoothed them down with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh, it’s back to Potter now, is it?” Harry asked. “Just ‘Harry’ when you are in front of your peers?”
“Yes!” Draco responded, throwing his arms out. “How did you even hear about this? I was so careful…”
“I’m an Auror, remember? You’re apparently very proud of me for doing that job.” Harry snorted, crossing his arms. “I did my research. But why, Malfoy? Why me?”
“Because you’re single, gay and the bloody Chosen One!” Draco answered, his cheeks red. “These people won’t accept me without you.”
“And you need that, do you? Their acceptance?” Harry asked, his tone one of disbelief.
“I need to change what the name Malfoy means, and those people out there? They are the ones that can make that happen. I only get back into high society if I am partnered with the highest member of society.”
They fell into silence, with Draco biting his lip and trying to not look disappointed that he had been caught.
“... Do you have anything other than champagne? Can’t stand the stuff.” Harry finally said, shuffling slightly. Draco blinked at him, confused, before he caught on. Harry was staying.
“Whatever you like,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “we’ll serve it.”
“Horrid taste,” Draco said automatically, but he forced himself to smile. “Thank you… Harry.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Harry said truthfully, reaching out to take hold of Draco’s hand; it didn’t feel as weird as it should. “Pretending to date me will only end in disaster for you.”
“A risk I’m willing to take, obviously.” Draco responded, carefully squeezing his hand back. “Shall we?”
“Yeah, sure… let’s go woo the worst people in wizard society.” Harry muttered, but smiled. This would absolutely end in disaster.
