April Fools

"Honestly, Harry, what are you so afraid of?"

It wasn't the first time I'd been asked the same question by the same person about the same issue, only the first time he'd asked it in the past hour. He'd heard my answers too many times; I didn't feel like repeating them all again.

Instead, I huffed, folded my arms over my chest, and gazed out the window of a carriage I'd once imagined to be horseless, a carriage I could now clearly see was being led by a team of Thestrals. Draco could see them, too, I knew. Over the past three years, he'd seen as much death as any member of the Order of the Phoenix could have expected to see.

But all that was over now, I reminded myself, and it was for that very reason that Professor--excuse me--Headmistress McGonagall had called for this Valentine's Day Reunion, a day for all Hogwarts graduates to come together and celebrate the wizarding world's recent victory. But what was there to celebrate, really? Voldemort was dead, sure. I'd made certain of that personally. But our victory had come at a cost I never thought any of us would have been willing to pay. We'd lost too many people, too many friends--Sirius Black, Neville Longbottom, Nymphadora Tonks, Mundungus Fletcher, and then, right at the very end of it all, Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore. If that was a victory, I'd hate to have seen a loss.

No matter how earnest an attempt this was on McGonagall's part to raise morale, nothing was going to keep today from being my absolute hell. I'd spent the past year holed up in some two-bit hotel with Draco, the only person who would tolerate me any longer, hoping like hell I'd never have to see another wizard or witch as long as I lived. But today was different. Today, I just had to be there, or so Draco had told me a thousand times. I supposed my presence would have made the festivities a tad less awkward; I was, after all, being honored at this little shindig with a tribute speech by McGonagall.

Wonderful.

And if the prospect of public humiliation wasn't enough, Draco was making it even worse with his constant insistence that this would undoubtedly be the perfect time to reveal our three-year relationship to the world. I had to agree on one point; it was something we should've taken care of a long time ago, though it wasn't as if we'd had much of an opportunity. At the start, the Death Eaters posed such a threat to Draco's safety that he could not reveal to anyone even his whereabouts, let alone the identity of the boy he'd been shagging. Especially not when that person and oh-so glorious Boy Who Lived were one and the same. And then, at the end of the war, Draco had been too busy looking after me, following one step behind always so as to make certain I didn't do something stupid like kill myself, to even speak to another human being.

To this day, Remus Lupin was the only person alive who knew anything about Draco and me, and that was only because he'd been there at the start of it all. I say "only person alive" because Snape had known as well, but it wasn't as if he was going to rise from the dead to announce the big news to everyone, was it? No, our secret was safe with him.

As the carriage mounted the hill that led up to the front gates of Hogwarts, I became vaguely aware of Draco's cheek against my shoulder. I uncrossed my arms with a sigh and lifted one hand to run my fingers through his silken blonde mane.

"Do you love me, Harry?" he asked quietly.

I snorted. "What kind of a question is that? Have you seen me tolerating anyone else's presence in the past twelve months?"

Draco lifted his head and glared daggers at me. "Just answer the question, Harry."

"Yes!" I answered, shouting without meaning to. I snapped my face toward him and returned the unrelenting stare. "Merlin, yes! You know I love you, Draco. Don't be silly."

"I'm not being silly," he said gravely. "I just think that the time has come for you to understand something."

"And what's that?"

Draco sighed. "That if you love me, and if I love you, which you know I do, then that's all that should matter. We've got nothing to be ashamed of, Harry."

"I'm not ashamed," I adamantly replied, a bit chuffed by his suggestion.

His gaze remained unflinching. "Then what are you so afraid of?"

And there it was, that question Draco just loved to ask....

Our carriage came to a halt at the front gates, and within seconds a young student--Ravenclaw, judging by the badge on her robes, and probably a prefect if I wasn't much mistaken--came to open the door and escort us out. Draco, being closer to the door, hopped out first, then dismissed the girl, who headed indifferently toward the carriage behind us.

"C'mon," said Draco, offering one hand to help me out of the carriage. Tentatively, I accepted it and stepped out, unable to stop my eyes from roaming nervously over the small crowd that had gathered near the front door. Did Draco and I make an odd picture for onlookers? Now that was a silly thought. Half of these people didn't know us, really, and the ones who did know us and had spoken to either of us in the past three years knew at least that Draco and I were on friendly terms. As for all the rest....

"Fuck them," Draco muttered under his breath in an evident response to the expression of mingled fear and anxiousness on my face. I couldn't help feeling a bit ashamed.

The apprehensive part of me was able to breathe a sigh of relief when Draco let go of my hand, but the part of me that belonged solely to him--and that was a sizeable part--was aching from the loss of contact. Deep down, I knew I needed him, needed to know that he was here for me, to support me, to help me make it through this evening.

McGonagall had really pulled out all the stops. The Great Hall looked as if someone had taken several vats full of Pepto-Bismol, that disgusting Muggle stomach medicine, and slung it all over the walls. Little heart-shaped bubbles floated about the room like so many pink and red clouds. I had never seen so much lovey-dovey décor since Gilderoy Lockhart's days at Hogwarts, and those certainly weren't days I was in any hurry to recall.

Somewhere across the room, a band was playing some sappy love ballad that a number of students as well as a few alums had taken to dancing to. Most of the witches and wizards here were older than Draco and me--the "old boys," I imagined Draco's father might have referred to them, were he not some soulless wraith holed up in a cell in Azkaban, thank Merlin for that!

As I scanned the room, I felt Draco nudge my arm lightly with his elbow. "Here comes the Weasel," he muttered.

Sure enough, Ron was crossing the room at lightening speed, Hermione trailing only feet behind him. Both were beaming at the sight of me. I should have been elated to see them; it had been so long since I'd spoken to either of them. But for some reason, I found myself having to force a smile as Ron slung his arms around me.

"So good to see you, mate!" he exclaimed, patting me hard on the back. I winked over my shoulder at Hermione. "How've you been?"

"Okay," I answered as Ron pulled away. "Just...uh...a bit out of it, you know?"

Hermione nodded violently. "We understand," she said. "We didn't want you to think...you know...that we were hurt by your wanting to...to.... Well, we knew you'd want to be on your own for awhile."

I smiled at her, this time with a little more ease. I was about to thank her and Ron for their consideration when I caught site of something small and flashy on Hermione's left hand. "Is that what I think it is?"

Hermione looked down at her hand abruptly, then back up at me, beaming. "Oh!" she cried out, holding the ring up so I could have a better look at it. "Yeah! I'm so sorry, I forgot we hadn't told you yet. Course, we haven't seen you to tell.... Oh but...Ron and I are getting married!"

The chuckle that escaped my lips was one hundred percent in earnest. "That's brilliant!" I told them. "You know, Hermione, I told Ron once in second year, in the middle of one of your guys' notorious spats, that the two of you would end up tying the knot one day!"

"Looks like you were right, mate!" said Ron, knocking me in the shoulder with a friendly punch. It seemed as though this reconnection was just as awkward for him as it was for me. He glanced down briefly at his watch, then turned to Hermione. "Sweetie, it's almost eight. You'd better be getting over to your booth."

"Oh, piss it!" she cried out, gazing apologetically at me. Her gaze then turned to Draco. "Slytherins are missing a boy at their booth, Malfoy. Wanna fill in? Said they need a good-looking Slytherin grad, if such a thing exists. Slytherins...ugh...."

Draco overlooked the insult to his former house and eyed Hermione quizzically. "What booth are you talking about?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as if any moronic git should have known the answer. "The kissing booth, you prat!"

Another one hundred percent-earnest chuckle escaped me. Draco didn't seem to find Hermione's answer quite as humorous.

"Anyway," continued Hermione, "it's two sickles per kiss, and all the proceeds are going to St. Mungo's to help the war victims. Ella O'Leary is already over there as the Slytherin girl. She graduated during our first year, you know."

"I know her," said Draco somberly. "All the Slytherin families know each other."

Hermione nodded and smiled. "So whadda ya say, Malfoy? Ready to pucker up?"

Draco's eyes moved tentatively between me and Hermione. "I...I don't know, Granger, I...."

"Oh, go on!" I laughed, nudging him as he'd done me earlier. "It'll be good for you, locking lips with some girlies!"

"You...you're sure you don't mind?" he said, throwing me the most incredulous look I'd ever seen on him. "I mean, I'll stay here and hang about with you, if you want. I don't have to go."

"I insist, Draco!"

He looked at me for a moment longer before being yanked by Hermione, who started off toward her own booth.

"Oh, Hermione!" I called out. Draco nearly ran into the back of her when she stopped suddenly and turned around to face me. "Does Gryffindor's booth need a boy?"

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "Nope!" she said. "We've got everyone's favorite werewolf hard at work already!"

***

Two hours and six butterbeers later, I was beginning to feel a bit more at ease. Ron and I had met up with Dean, Seamus and Seamus' girlfriend Elise, a lovely witch from Beauxbatons who had fought bravely alongside us in the war. Dean and Seamus were caught up in some heated argument over quidditch, but I wasn't listening really. My attention was on the kissing booths, which we had somehow worked our way toward. All of the patrons seemed to be having a marvelous time, tossing over their two sickles to snog some of the most beautiful graduates Hogwarts had to offer.

At the Gryffindor booth, Remus was dealing with a plumb, middle-aged witch who was on, I believe, her twenty-sixth trip to the booth. Hermione was lunging obligingly over the table to plant a kiss on the cheek of a small boy who had been giggling shyly at her all evening and whose mother, obviously tiring of the boy's unrequited fancy, had finally brought him over.

"Well, I hope that kid's enjoying himself!" huffed Ron, who seemed entirely serious.

I rolled my eyes. "Ron, that boy is no more than five years old! I don't think you've got much to worry about, mate, unless Hermione likes 'em young."

Either Ron didn't find my joke funny or he hadn't heard me. He glared furiously at the Gryffindor booth, fuming as I hadn't seen Ron fume in years. And then, as if possessed by some unseen force, Ron made a beeline for the booth, sliding in front of whatever unfortunate individual happened to be next in line.

"What do you think you're doing?" I heard Hermione whisper, giggling, as she shot up out of her seat.

Ron's only answer was a forceful, passionate kiss, which Hermione shamelessly returned. Boy, Ron was chock full of surprises tonight, wasn't he?

"Now tell me," said Ron breathlessly after pulling away. "Are you honestly going to make me pay you for that?"

"You bet I am!" replied Hermione, narrowing her eyes and grinning. "If you couldn't wait another half-hour to kiss me for free, that isn't my problem! Besides, you know how much Saint Mungo's needs the money."

Ron groaned and dove into his pocket, then produced two sickles and said to Hermione in a low voice, "Don't you go making a habit out of this, or I'll be going broke pretty quick!"

With a quick laugh and a shake of my head, I turned my attention away from the pair of them.

The Hufflepuffs were having problems of their own. The booth was being run by Hannah Abbot and Ryan Fairbanks, who had graduated two years before us. The pair were reportedly engaged, and now Hannah was nagging Ryan about some lovely older woman whose kiss from Ryan had lasted "far too long."

I didn't know the man at the Ravenclaw booth, but Dean informed me that this was Howard Anders, a member of the newly-established Wizengamot at the Ministry of Magic. The girl, however, I knew very well. It was Cho Chang, still as pretty as I ever remembered her. Only now, there was no strange stirring inside me at the sight of her. She was beautiful, sure, but her physique was not one to which I was...anatomically inclined.

She caught my eye suddenly and smiled with a wave of her delicate hand. I jumped slightly, then returned the smile and nodded.

"Hey, Harry!" shouted a somewhat-drunken Seamus, who if I wasn't mistaken was on his third glass of firewhiskey on the rocks. "Didn't you used to have a thing for Chang there?"

I winced at his tactlessness but couldn't help laughing. "Yeah," I answered. "Fourth and fifth year." I almost remarked that Cho had dumped me when she thought I fancied Hermione, but I doubted Ron would appreciate that any more than he'd appreciated his fiancee snogging a five year-old.

Seamus chuckled heartily. "Well, looks to me like she might still fancy you, the way she keeps looking over here."

"Maybe you should go hit her up for a date or something?" suggested Dean.

"Yeah, maybe," I said absently, but my attention had already turned away from the Ravenclaw booth.

Honestly, I couldn't claim to be surprised to find that the line at the Slytherin booth extended almost halfway across the Great Hall, and it didn't look as if many of the people in line were waiting to see Ella O'Leary, who was, in her own right, a stunning young woman. Most of these eager patrons, though, were female. Some were twenty, some were sixty, and all of them had their hungry eyes fixed on Draco Malfoy.

I couldn't blame them, could I? Sitting there, sprawled in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, donning that grin that managed to be both malicious and adorable, Draco looked too enticing for words. I was beginning to understand that protective, jealous instinct that had come over Ron when he saw Hermione, but I knew I had little to worry about. Draco was mine.

And suddenly, although Draco hadn't spoken, hadn't even looked toward me, I heard that question again: What are you so afraid of, Harry?

What was I afraid of?

There was no shame in loving Draco. I knew that. Draco had been undoubtedly the best thing to ever happen to me. We'd seen our share of horrific things throughout the war, and yet somehow we'd both found it in our hearts to keep caring, to keep trying, to keep loving. And when the war had ended, when I could tolerate nothing and no one, I had still wanted Draco by my side. And to my utter and wholly undeserving surprise, he'd stayed there of his own free will.

Again, that instinctive jealousy came washing over me as a knockout redhead smiled seductively at Draco, handed over her two sickles, and bent low to kiss him. Draco didn't close his eyes, I was happy to see, and with a burst of alarm, I realized he was looking right at me. His gray eyes fluttered for a moment seductively, teasingly, and it seemed to me, although his mouth was occupied for the moment, that he was actually smiling.

"I'll be back," I muttered to Seamus and Dean, taking a deep breath as I started for the Slytherin booth.

"Wait a tic!" said Seamus, laughing. "Are you going over to snog that Slytherin chick? A Slytherin? Harry, what's gotten into you?"

I didn't bother to reply to Seamus' drunken litany of questions; he'd have his answers soon enough.

Taking a leaf out of Ron's book, I shoved my way to the front of the line and tossed two sickles onto the table. Ella O'Leary gazed up impassively at me.

"Do I really have to kiss a Gryffindor?" she moaned.

"No," I answered sharply, meeting Draco's perplexed gaze. "You don't have to do anything, Miss O'Leary."

Draco's lips curled into a soft smile; he understood.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Harry?" he whispered, reaching for my hand. Behind me, a handful of women were shouting for me to hurry up. "You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I would've understood if you wanted to wait a while longer."

With a strength I didn't know I possessed, I yanked Draco onto his feet and pulled him across the booth. "Shut up and kiss me, Malfoy."

And Draco did just that, tangling one hand in my hair as his mouth opened against mine. I felt my heart rise in my throat, as if we were kissing for the first time all over again. I curled my fingers around the tops of Draco's arms, squeezing them tightly as I deepened the kiss. To think, I'd been so afraid to do this, so afraid stand in front of every witch and wizard I knew and show them all that I loved Draco Malfoy, and now it seemed I was too afraid to ever let go of him.

But before I could even consider the idea, I realized that Draco had already pulled away from me. The room was utterly silent for a long moment, and then a dull murmur erupted all around us. Everyone had seen. And the funny thing was...

I didn't care.

I leaned my forehead against Draco's and opened my eyes, only to find that his were still closed.

"Thank you, Harry," he whispered breathlessly.

I lifted a hand to his cheek. "I love you so much, Draco."

"I know it," he said, laughing. "And now they all know it, too."

We pulled apart with obvious reluctance and scanned the staring crowd, both of us smirking impishly as if to ask, "What are you lot lookin' at?" Some faces appeared to be utterly flabbergasted. Others were appalled. I didn't suppose it mattered what they thought, really. Regardless of anyone's opinion, the fact was that I'd be going home with Draco Malfoy at the end of the evening, and I was perfectly happy with that.

Which suddenly didn't seem like such a bad idea....

"Let's get out of here," I muttered, turning to Draco.

"Now?" His brow furrowed as he glanced down at his watch. "But McGonagall's giving her speech in an hour. You have to be here! The speech is about you!"

"Fuck the speech," I said, sounding far too defiant for my own good. "I want to go home and spend a proper Valentine's Day with you and only you."

A smile spread slowly across Draco's face, and his hand quickly found mine. "Alright," he whispered. "That sounds like a lovely idea."

In spite of the stares and murmurs all around us, we moved swiftly across the room, headed straight for the double doors. I stopped only when I saw Remus approaching out of the corner of my eye.

"I see the cat's out of the bag now," he said, beaming.

I snorted. "The cat almost suffocated in the bag, didn't it?"

Remus chuckled and nodded his head. "Don't let it be another twelve months before I hear from you again, Harry."

I smiled broadly at him to indicate that he had nothing to worry about, then continued with Draco on our path toward the door. Crossing the room was no trouble at all, as everyone was too taken aback to ask asinine questions or to do anything but step aside as we passed. Unfortunately, the foursome barricading our exit had slightly different reactions.

"What the in the bloody hell was that all about?" shouted Ron. His tact was utterly astounding.

"What does it look like, Weasel?" Draco sneered. For once, I didn't mind his cruelty toward Ron. I just wanted to get the hell out of this place.

"I thought you said you were gonna hit Cho Chang up for a date?" slurred Seamus. Merlin, that boy needed to lay off the firewhiskey. Those Irish and their love of beverage....

I shrugged my shoulders and grinned. "April Fools!"

"Wrong holiday," said Hermione flatly, planting her hands on her hips.

"Yeah," said Ron. "It's Valentine's Day."

"Well, then," I sighed, clutching Draco's hand tightly as I pushed past the lot of them, "you'll understand that I'd much rather get out of here and spend Valentine's Day with my boyfriend. Goodnight, all!"

"Boyfriend?" I heard Ron groan behind me, but it didn't matter. Draco and I were already bolting down the grand staircase, cackling hysterically at the scene we'd just made. A coach was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs. We climbed in, Draco first, and directed the Thestrals to carry us home.

"You know," Draco began, leaning back and tugging me toward him so that my head rested against his chest, "I haven't seen you come alive like that in a long time."

"I haven't felt that alive in a long time," I said. Draco's robes felt warm and soft against my cheek. Part of me wanted to doze off right here in the carriage, lulled by the quick trotting steps of the Thestrals outside, but I knew better. This was to be a night I knew I'd want to stay awake for. "Tell me you love me, Draco."

"Alas," he sighed melodramatically, "I do not love you."

My eyes shot open instantly. "Excuse me!"

Draco smiled and ran one hand soothingly through my hair. "April Fools! Of course I love you, git that you are!"

I chuckled and settled back against him. "Wrong holiday, remember? It's Valentine's Day."

"Oh, yes," he whispered, lowering his face to mine to kiss me. "Even better...."

FIN