AN: I love this little story. :) Thanks so much for coming along with me on it and I hope you enjoy the ending! Prom time, woo!

Chapter 9:

If looks could kill, Harry Potter would be a dead man ten thousand times over.

Draco—that bastard, even when he was dressed to the nines he still found a way to infuriate Harry—had left Harry's side for a brief moment at the Malfoy estate after their pre-prom photo-op and had left Harry vulnerable in the line of fire.

Lucius Malfoy, never one to miss an opportunity to scare the living daylights out of a man who had the misfortune of courting his son, turned his deadly glare on Harry into a sermon.

"Potter," Lucius greeted him curtly.

Harry immediately looked to Draco for help, but he seemed to be absorbed in whatever pictures Colin was showing him with his high-definition camera. Dammit. They'd done the whole corsage prom picture deal at the steps and taken at least a hundred photos that Harry was blinking in half of. Narcissa's family camera had one hell of a flash, which Harry suspected to be on purpose. "Uh."

"Oh, silly Potter. Eyes over here."

The threatening growl in Lucius' voice made Harry snap back to him. "Er. Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Yes sir."

Lucius' smile after that was positively sinister. "You're out of my son's league," he informed Harry plainly. "You're most likely a rebellious trick he's playing on me because the AIDS center he volunteers at gave him the night off after I… persuaded them to free up his schedule."

Harry had a strong feeling that Lucius' brand of 'persuasion' was definitely terrifying and life-altering. He played it safe and minimal like being a rogue in WoW taught him. "Okay."

"Don't you 'okay' me," Lucius snapped. Theo and Colin had resumed taking pictures that would adorn their Facebook walls for the next few weeks and Draco was talking party decorations with his mother, who seemed to be purposefully turning a blind eye to what her husband was doing.

"Listen closely, Potter. There are some rules for young men who try and date my son." Lucius had a veritable list hidden somewhere in Narcissa and his room. "You do not touch him. You do not so much as breathe on him. If I hear of one misstep, if I see one picture of you at the dance trying to cop a feel or whatever brainless boys like you think they can do, or if he is not in this very spot by midnight, you will incur my wrath."

"Don't worry, he'll be home by eleven—"

"I wasn't finished."

That snip knocked some sense into Harry. Lucius hadn't even described what his 'wrath' would be and Harry knew it would involve knives, rabid dogs, and permanent scars. He finally shut up.

"This is a one-time occurrence. I'm sure Draco will be bored of you after one night, and you don't concern me, but his safety concerns me. The fact that you're both men puts you at a risk," Lucius pressed on even though Harry could definitely tell this special brand of anger wasn't directed at him but at the world that would dare to harm his son. "Anyone gives you any trouble, if it looks as if you're being followed, or if someone tries to get you to leave the dance because of that fact, you call me. Draco has my number." He sighed. "Don't be a hero, Potter."

That was actually sort of sweet? Harry nodded to show he understood.

"Satisfactory," Lucius grumbled.

"Father," Draco called to him, looking out the window to their driveway. "The limo's here, you can stop harassing Harry now."

"Oh, Draco. I'll never really stop harassing Potter."

"Wonderful," Harry mumbled. The only actual wonderful thing about that moment was the fancy stretch limo—with a full mini-fridge of alcohol inside—was there to whisk them away from what had to be the most uncomfortable moment of Harry's life.

Narcissa fawned over Draco some more, kissing his cheeks and Theo's too.

"Mum. Mum. We have to go. Mum," Draco whined, trying to wrench away from the lipstick marks on his cheeks. "Mum!"

Always the doting mother, Narcissa pulled out a moist toilette and wiped the red from Draco's face. "Stay safe, sweetheart. Have fun," she told him fondly before fixing one more strand of his hair.

"Yes, mum," Draco said a bit more fondly before giving her one quick kiss on the cheek. Harry wondered what it would be like to be a part of a family that kissed each other goodbye and meant it when they said 'goodnight'.

Harry thought about that on the limo ride over to the hotel that hosted their dance, fading in and out of the conversation as they picked up Pansy and her date, Blaise and his date, and Crabbe and Goyle who had decided to go stag but Harry suspected were going to give in and snog each other after a few brews.

Parkinson raided the mini-fridge and passed around bottles for everyone, but Harry hadn't touched his and smiled when he realized Draco hadn't, either. Harry sort of wanted to remember his prom night.

"So Potter," she went on once her lips were loosened by alcohol. "You're quite the smooth operator online for someone so horribly awkward in person."

"I can see why Draco likes you lot. You're all so sweet," Harry responded with a smile.

Theo at least got an obnoxious laugh out of that one. "They're a tough crowd," he nodded understandingly to Harry. At least one of Draco's friends wasn't completely insane. "But you survived Lucius' warnings and will probably survive his inspection later tonight when we come home, so I think you can deal with these liquored up twats."

"Not a twat," Pansy corrected him, eyes wide. "A Khaleesi."

A laugh burst out of Harry. "Of course, Your Grace." It made sense that Pansy would watch HBO, actually.

"Watch it," Colin warned him from Theo's side. He'd been enamored with the glamor of their ride up until the moment he realized he needed to help a friend in need. "You don't want to inflate her ego any more than necessary. And the rest of 'em are just hazing you."

"Lovely," Harry nodded. While he couldn't give Draco a 'meet the guardians' moment that was anywhere near as intimidating as Harry's, his friends would at least be doing the same to Draco. Both cliques had a natural distrust of one another after years of butting heads.

But for that moment, Draco and Harry simply nudged their knees together in the back seat of the limousine.

The rest of the night went along with that plan. Ron threatened to 'punch Draco's sorry-arse lights out' if he did anything to Harry and Hermione gave him the evil eye for the evening, even when Draco and Harry seemed to be laughing, talking, and having a good time.

Draco's friends got drunk, Harry's friends looked like they had finally discovered mirrors, and everything went along as Harry imagined it would. It was chillingly normal. No boss fights, no shocking coups, and not even an upset when the prom king and queen were selected.

Of course Dean and Seamus were going to win, they were one of the only semi-functional couples in the school. Dean took the tiara and wore it upside-down while Seamus carried the crown around.

There had even been straight dry-humping as Draco had expected.

"Look at them," Draco marveled, looking out onto the hotel's finished and polished dance floor being desecrated by a sexual smorgasbord of epically heteronormative proportions. "It's like they were born to do this."

Girls grinded back on their dates, avoiding eye contact entirely as they both swayed to the beat with her arse pressed up against his stiffy. A hundred carbon copies of that exact situation unfolded all around Draco and Harry, who had consequently fled to the dinner tables.

At least Ron and Hermione had decided to take a stroll around the hotel so Harry wouldn't have to witness them joining in. "Straight people," Harry shrugged haplessly. "They all look sort of bored, too."

"Want to jump in between them and show them how it's done?" Draco asked with a grin.

Harry was about to tell him 'fuck no' when the song changed from a thumping club beat to a slow song. The straight couples on the floor turned to face one another for the first time in a solid half hour to adjust to the sweet sound of violins and pianos.

"Well. Too late," Draco sighed.

"Nah," Harry decided. "We could still get in on that."

"Confidence rising as the music slows down? That's a new one."

Harry took Draco's hand in his. "Just avoid any cameras. According to your father I shouldn't even be breathing on you."

"My father is going to have to live with it," Draco shrugged as he turned the tables to lead Harry to the dance floor.

Faces of classmates passed them by—Justin, Blaise, Susan, Daphne—as they worked their way to the center. Draco seemed to have an effortless grace that let him slide through people without bumping elbows or tripping over their shoes, a sort of grace that Harry was just glad to ride on the coattails of.

When Draco decided on a perfect place to begin their dance (even though it was more of a gently swaying hug considering Harry had about zero rhythm), he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Harry's waist.

Just like he'd seen in movies, Harry rested his hands on Draco's shoulders.

But Draco was better than something out of the movies. He was unpredictable and surprising in almost every aspect of his life that Harry had reexamined after storming out on Draco in that café.

Harry tried to take it a step further. He rested his cheek on Draco's shoulder and shut his eyes so he could listen to the music and get more of whatever incredible cologne Draco was wearing.

"Are you smelling me?"

Harry shushed him. "Quit ruining the moment."

"This is a moment?"

"Yes, it is, you complete arse," Harry chuckled, still not opening his eyes or moving away from Draco.

Draco bit his lower lip when he looked down at the gorgeous man who he was apparently having a moment with. He liked that Harry was shorter than him, it let Draco be the one who felt bigger and like he could protect the other man. His boyfriend.

Draco was about to let his own eyes shut when a disturbed grunt came from behind them.

Harry lifted his head and Draco turned around to see the hollow of the man who used to be Severus Snape. "What in the world do you two think you're doing?"

"Dancing," Harry offered.

Around them, the other slow-dancing couples inched away from the killjoy chaperone.

"I refused to believe your father when he told me who you were going with," Snape growled at Draco. "What are you thinking?"

Draco didn't really know to answer that. If he answered honestly, he was making a list in his head of all the things he liked about his new boyfriend, but something told him Snape didn't really want to hear it.

Luckily, Harry had been imparted with the wisdom of Lucius Malfoy earlier that evening.

He was going to play the gay card, and he was going to play it hard.

"Wow," Harry exclaimed so everyone on the floor looked to him. "I cannot believe this. Mr. Snape, are you homophobic?"

The students whose attention Harry had caught looked at their already hated teacher in disgust. "Not cool, man," a particularly drunk student yelled to the teacher.

"What?" Snape hadn't been expecting that one. Draco was his godson, for fuck's sake. It was actually impossible for him to be homophobic.

Draco had picked up on Harry's plan the second he got louder. "Hey!" Draco added. "Are you discriminating, Mr. Snape? That's against school policy." Just because Snape was his godfather didn't mean Draco would spare him the third degree if he tried to pry into Draco's personal life like his actual father did.

At the mention of the word 'discriminating', Luna Lovegood appeared seemingly out of thin air with her puffy blue dress. "Is he giving you any trouble, Harry? I could always talk with Headmaster Dumbledore."

It was only at that moment that Snape could see what was going on. "Oh, no, Lovegood. I could care less if they were hermaphrodites wearing diamonds and pearls. It is their… Combination that bothers me."

"Mr. Snape hates hermaphrodites!" another drunken student announced, getting all of the sober kids in a tizzy that stopped their dancing so they could glare down the greasy old man who'd thrown on a suit for the evening. Who was that miserable man to judge anyone's genitals?

"No, that's not—"

"Is there a problem here, Severus?" Dumbledore's voice rang calmly and clearly. He'd seen the commotion on the floor from where he'd perched to observe the students with his stalwart friend Minerva McGonagall and perhaps exchange gossip. The topic they'd been discussing before Severus had trudged into teenage wasteland was coincidentally centered on Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy.

"No, Headmaster," he answered begrudgingly. "You really didn't have to come over here."

In his traditional white tuxedo that he wore to every prom since the beginning of time itself, Albus Dumbledore put a guiding hand on Severus' shoulder. "Let's have a discussion elsewhere, Severus." He nodded a goodbye to the students. "Enjoy the relaxation while you can, everyone. Before you know it you'll be as old and grey as me." With a wink, Dumbledore secured himself a spot in the hearts of his students as their favorite albeit quirky principal, and made Draco and Harry's night.


"Did you see his face?" Harry laughed wildly.

"I think he made a new shade of white. The whitest of whites," Draco nodded. "Fuck, if you stared at him too long your retinas would burn."

"I already am visually impaired, if you haven't noticed."

Their stroll down the halls was thankfully more private than the dance floor was, and the mocha detailing on the carpets beneath their formal shoes was calming to look at. The dance still raged on in the ballroom five floors below them, but they'd managed to get past hotel security with one flash of Draco's platinum card. Even after a slow dance, it was sort of evident that Harry was not a dancing kind of man.

The poor thing had two left feet, and while Draco was just beginning to see his personality he experienced online show through in person, it was still evident he had a tinge of social awkwardness.

"I noticed," Draco nodded before doing something mildly evil yet entirely premieditated. He snatched Harry's glasses right off of his face and inspected them as if they were fascinating. "What's the strength on these things? They look pretty thick."

Harry tried to grab them back but Draco was too fast. On his second attempt, Harry narrowed his eyes and stopped their stroll to reclaim his glasses. "Come on," he grinned. "I can't see my prom date without those."

"It's a pity. He's a looker." Draco continued to walk, which confused Harry enough to follow him.

"Where are you going?"

Draco grinned and kept walking. "I've got a surprise for you, and I figured this was less suspicious than wrapping a blindfold around your eyes. Though I could have made some great demonic warlock references."

"I'm sure you can still get some in, Draco. Don't give up so easily," he laughed before watching Draco stop in front of a door and wave a card in front of the lock. The light on the door turned green, Harry could see that much, before Draco could open it.

Harry felt his heart beat in his chest. He'd seen this moment in movies, too. It was during prom, Draco had a hotel room, he was surprising him… Harry didn't know if he was ready for this. Sure, they'd had some more-than innocent talks over the past week, but this was so soon.

"Uh, Draco," Harry tried before Draco handed him back his glasses. "I don't know if this is such a—"

When Harry had his glasses on his head once again, he really was surprised.

"Holy shit."

"What were you expecting, candles and rose petals?" Draco laughed. "That I was going to get you liquored up and ask you to give it up on prom night?"

"Yes," Harry answered honestly before entering the room and all of its perfection.

Two widescreen televisions occupied the room where beds would be, hooked up to separate keyboards and mice designed for the game. Even the chairs they sat in front of were perfectly curved for relaxing and gaming.

"Harry," Draco told him gently before tossing him a bag of Cheetos. "I actually happen to give a fuck about you. I would have gotten a much bigger suite with a Jacuzzi bathtub if I wanted to rock your virgin world."

Harry rolled his eyes fondly. He'd definitely seen the hot tub thing in movies. Still, he was relieved it wasn't so early in the relationship. One day he'd be ready, and being inexperienced didn't really scare him as much as it used to. Draco gave a fuck about him.

"So are you or are you not going to kick some Mogu arse with me?"

"Like you even needed to ask," Harry grinned, checking the clock. They could get a decent run in before he had to take Draco home, and he would take it for all it was worth.

AN: I had the worst case of smut-block. Just assume they shagged wildly in a few months after this. Time for thesecreteater's Wolfstar fic that I promised I'd write forever ago.