The Yearbook Septet

Results

Name after name was announced by Professor McGonagall. One by one, the young wizards and witches collected their NEWTS results from the newly appointed headmistress.

Harry sat in the congregation, shivering and mournful. He had his envelope clutched in his hand but didn't dare open it, not because of the disappointment he might suffer over the results inside but because of the memories it would force to surface. 'Zabini, Blaise,' had just been called out, and the blond had approached the stage for the second time that afternoon, leaving his place at Harry side.

Nervously, Harry fiddled with the small collection of envelopes in his lap. 'Thomas, Dean' and 'Finnegan, Seamus' had been killed as one on the battle ground the previous month, their families having been exterminated the following morning because of association to the muggle-born and his boyfriend. But, most significantly, the young man who had survived the war was staring at the parchment addressed to 'Granger, Hermione.' She, too, had perished in the last fight, nobly protecting her best friend in a hopeless duel with three Death Eaters. Her boyfriend, Ron, had followed soon after, killed by the wand of Voldemort himself.

Draco returned to his seat having collected the envelope meant for his best friend. McGonagall concluded the presentation and murmurs of conversation began across the Great Hall. Silently, sensing each other's distress, Harry and Draco clasped hands offering comfort to one another. They refused to leave each other's side throughout the congratulatory party.

Later that day, the envelopes were buried alongside the people they were meant for. They remained perpetually unopened, the results inside eternally unknown.

*~*~*~*~*

Breakfast

Harry took his seat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall for breakfast. As usual, his seat directly faced the Slytherin table, but more significantly it directly faced the seat one particular Slytherin at that table.

"Harry? Malfoy's staring at you," Ron pointed out, Weasley-blue eyes flashing angrily.

"Hmm?"

"Ferret boy's been staring at you for the last ten minutes. What does the bugger want now?"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "Watch your language."

Ron rolled his eyes at his girlfriend, but the gesture went entirely unnoticed due to her being engrossed in her book, 'Amazingly Difficult Secrets Of AstroCharms And Other Things You Would Never Need to Know Even If You Lived To Be One Hundred,' and Harry's line of vision remaining firmly fixed amongst the bowl of blue Weetos in front of him, untouched.

An indeterminate number of minutes later, Harry was startled from his stupor by a parchment envelope that hit him on the nose.

Harry,

Meet me in the Runes classroom before Potions.

Love D.

Harry glanced across the hall at Draco - who was still staring at him - and grinned.

Draco winked back.

Harry blushed bright crimson.

Ron was extremely confused by Harry's blushing and remained oblivious to the exchange, as per usual.

Hermione noticed, of course, but didn't really give a frilly heck.

Harry ate his blue Weetos as quickly as he could, giving himself indigestion.

Draco followed him out of the Great Hall.

Hermione smiled knowingly. This exact scenario had being playing out in the exact same way for over two weeks now.

*~*~*~*~*

Leather Trousers

He emerged from his bathroom, freshly showered with his clean, damp hair sticking up every which way. Carefully and meticulously the seventeen year old dressed himself in the new outfit he had purchased especially for the occasion.

Stepping in front of the mirror the boy grabbed his wand from the bedside table and, with the expertise of one well practised in the art of vanity, rivalled not even by Padma Patil, he swished this way and flicked that way, patiently perfecting the way his magically dried hair fell around his face, thankful for the wards that allowed underage magic within Malfoy Manor.

Half an hour later, the blond stepped back from the full-length mirror and nodded in approval. His reflection winked and smirked back but somehow this display paled in comparison to a certain Gilderoy Lockhart who shall remain nameless.

Pocketing the small package on the bed, he raised his wand, closed his eyes and disappeared with a pop.

~

The boy arrived in the hallway outside the smallest bedroom of 4 Privet Drive milliseconds later. He knocked sharply on the door and waited. But his patience did not extend to much outside the state of his appearance and it was quickly wearing thin by the time the door was flung open.

"Draco!" The brunette launched himself at the blond and dragged him into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Draco scanned the room critically, thoroughly appalled by the lack of furniture and abundance of broken Muggle electronics.

Draco produced a silver disk from his pocket and held it out to Harry in the palm of his hand. Harry, recognising the Malfoy crest to be a portkey grasped Draco's hand and waited for the pull just behind his navel. Two seconds and hundreds of miles later in the stands of a European Cup Quidditch match in Italy...

"Holy shit Draco! You're wearing leather trousers!"