laraF's nest

Here comes the wrapping up of the 2021 H/D Owlpost. (OMG, finally, yay) ~~~~


The Dance of the Peacocks (4404 words) by laraF
Chapters: 4/4
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Hermione Granger, Lucius Malfoy, Rita Skeeter, Cedric Diggory, Luna Lovegood, Sanguini (Harry Potter), Horace Slughorn, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle
Additional Tags: emotionally constipated teenagers, Slytherin Harry Potter, Heir of Slytherin Harry Potter, Pining, There's so much pining, it's a whole forest at this point, loosely inspired by music, my chemical romance - Freeform, Ron Weasley is Our King, Poor Cedric, someone always out to get him, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Hogwarts Sixth Year, man I love Luna, Everybody Lives, Nobody Dies, for once, cursing, they are teenage boys, oh and there's underage drinking, don't drink guys, not as fun as it looks like, bad life choices, Don't Try This At Home, if there's any sign of a basilisk in your pipes call the professionals, ah the line between love and hate, is indeed thin, Lucius Malfoy is not amused, but i am, probably ridiculously op harry potter, what can i say, draco loves him, i love him too, you cannot be gay and know math at the same time, it's against the laws of the universe, "the beauty a nice male ass can provide", i want this engraved somewhere

Summary: It's one thing to be in the spotlight because of your famous parents and your talent in quidditch - and it's entirely different if it comes to light suddenly that you're the Heir of Slytherin. Fortunately for Harry Ron always has his back (along with a stash of Firewhiskey, the cure to all ailments.) Only one problem remains - making peace with Draco, who seems to hate him more than ever.

It's... a little bit all over the place, this fic is. So, apologies, if that's bothersome. (It fits me, tho.)

Chapter One:

“Man, this sucks,” stated Ron with an entirely too cheerful voice. “But heads up, you’re like, the coolest guy of the school now! McLaggen can eat his shoddy broom and run to daddy crying!” He snickered. “Slytherin’s descendant, huh? Man, I can’t believe the Chamber’s entrance was in a loo. That’s so lame! I mean, sorry, but your great-great-great-great-grandfather or whatever was kinda barmy, you know? But you’re cool, I mean, you’re still Harry.” He thrust his hand out and Harry took the offered glass from it without question.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” He gulped down the fiery drink and shuddered at the thought of what will Sirius say to this new development. His godfather had always been supportive, but when he was sorted into Slytherin in first year, well… It took him a while to accept the fact that his beloved Mini-Marauder became a ‘slimy Slytherin’. Not to mention the Howler that he was bound to receive with the morning post from his mother… And probably Mrs. Weasley, too.

“It’s a shame you couldn’t keep the Basilisk’s skin tho. Charlie said that the best boots and gloves are made from it. And Hermione said that the venom is like, the rarest substance in the world? Or something? Damn the Ministry and their greed.” He paused to empty his glass and refill. “What do you think, could you accompany me on prefect rounds sometimes and hiss at the second year Ravenclaws? They’re rude little buggers.”

“Hermione would castrate me.”

“True.”

They drank in friendly silence. Harry had been brooding in the Gryffindor common room for three hours now – ever since the catastrophic events of Slughorn’s Christmas Ball unfolded. There was the scandal of the highly esteemed Wizengamot-wife cheating on Mr. Wizengamot with a Foreign Affairs diplomat, the Minister of Magical Sports embezzling a load of gold from Gringotts, a bestseller writer accidentally admitting to plagiarizing and a deranged ministry official managing to open the Chamber of Secrets. Featuring a raging Harry Potter and a dead Basilisk.

The average Gryffindor was all too used to the presence of Slytherin’s Golden Boy by now – Harry spent most of his six year of Hogwarts education either there or out on the Quidditch pitch. Now though the room was emptied by Ron – the upperclassmen shot him wary looks and the first- and second-year students run away screaming when he entered, disheveled and bloody and totally done with his life.

Ron was such a true friend. He didn’t even mention that Harry never shared this ability with them. He shooed everyone out of his way as they travelled up to the tower, leaving a trail of dirty footprints behind them. Harry was so angry he didn’t even want to go to the infirmary. He just needed some peace.

Harry Potter, Slytherin’s Golden Boy. He got the title in the middle of his first year, when he performed a perfect Wronski Feint on his fifth flying lesson. He became the star of the field soon, Slytherin House’s prized player, then captain; the leader of the Dueling Club and a master of the Patronus Charm at the tender age of thirteen. His father and godfather were star aurors, his mother a famous inventor so it was expected from him to be exceptional but sometimes he just wanted to be Harry. Simply Harry. He’s always been okay with the pressure of being the son of the wizarding world’s Famous and Beloved Couple. His parents were cool, his godfather and Lupin, their longtime family friend even cooler and he never had to really fear from disappointing them. There was only one secret he’d been keeping from everyone with manic fervor – being a Parselmouth.

And now the secret was out. Harry didn’t know what to do with it.

“Everyone’s talking about you!” Neville squeezed himself through the portrait hole, stopped to catch his breath and upon seeing Harry’s dark expression tried to regulate his excited features into somber compassion. It came out rather constipated. Ron was balancing precariously on the coffee table’s edge in front of the sofa.

On the sofa Harry was laying down, one hand covering his face, the other lifelessly holding a half-empty glass of amber liquid.

“Is that… Firewhiskey?!”

“Shh! Merlin’s balls, Neville, I don’t want Hermione to know!”

“She’s in the other side of the castle,” Seamus joined the group, laughter in his voice. “The Slytherins are celebrating, Blaise enchanted the first floor so everything’s green and silver and there’s snake-shaped confetti everywhere. Like, there’s some in your hair, Nev.” He stopped momentarily to brush away some glittering pieces from Neville’s hair. “Snape is nowhere to be seen and the Slytherins took that as open permission to party all night. I think I’mma join back; I just came to grab ya’ll. Blaise got booze and I saw Theo arguing with McGonagall and he actually won! You should’ve been there, he’s a true magician! McGonagall basically gave the green light if Slughorn’s willing to resume the party. I think he was doing damage control in his office. But I saw Rita Skeeter too, looked like the cat that got the cream and probably wants to interview you too, man.” Harry rolled his eyes. Ron facepalmed, Neville shuddered. “There are many guests from Slughorn’s party still loitering… Tomorrow’s Prophet will have a field day! Probably everyone’s drunk, now that I think about it… Malfoy is fucking pissed! You should’ve seen him; his face was so red when you reappeared!”

“He’s gonna hate me even more now, just perfect,” Harry groaned miserably. If he was Slytherin’s prized Golden Boy Malfoy was the Silver Prince; the most competitive and wealthy pureblood heir of their society; the one with the biggest influence… and ego. The rivalry between them has been cautious; bordering on empty, playful threats and tentative, cool friendship. Of course, Draco was a loud and proud boy while Harry mostly tried to stay in the shadows (without much success, but at least he was trying). His preferred company were Crabbe and Goyle – more like bodyguards than friends, really – while Harry usually chose Theo and Pansy from his house when he wasn’t spending time with his best friends from Gryffindor. In fifth year though Draco’s behavior toward him turned a little sour. The open coldness and hostility were new and uncomfortable; it even chased Harry out from their sleeping chamber just so he could avoid any confrontations first thing in the morning.

When it all began, he initially believed that Draco may have had a problem with his sexuality. It was a whole debacle in their fifth year when Cedric, the Triwizard Champion and Handsome Extraordinaire asked him out and he said yes. He got heartbroken love letters and girls ran away from him randomly crying on corridors for weeks. Harry was embarrassed enough to start to carry his Invisibility Cloak everywhere. But he was nothing if not brash – he could tolerate sniffling teenage girls, but not a raging dragon next to his bed so he cornered Draco one day and asked him face to face if he was a homophobe. Turned out he wasn’t but the git hexed him and strutted away before the inquisition could reach its goal. Harry grew more and more annoyed, while Draco turned slightly more bitter every day. It wasn’t ideal.

Harry wanted that precious, tentative friendship back.

Cedric was out of school soon and their break was a friendly, fond thing. They exchanged letters sometimes. Harry wasn’t sad about that relationship sailing away but he was mad at Draco and he wanted their strange cold war to end.

How lucky that he had other, more pressing problems at hand.

“Come on man, I don’t want to make Pansy wait even more, she’s terrifying when she’s angry.” Seamus was already halfway out the portrait hole, an enthusiastic Ron on his heels.

“Yeah, Harry, come on! You offed the Basilisk, so the after party can only be better, eh?”

“I hate you all.”

He still stood up and followed his friends out into the chaos.