Rating: R (for swearing)
Challenge: 22. Draco can't access the family accounts and craves things he can no longer afford. To his astonishment, these things start showing up for him with no note. He can't understand why, but then overhears Harry placing an order for him.
Summary: Same as above.
Warnings (if any): None.
Notes: So much love to my beta, the wonderful Taira, who is not only grammar queen, but a very nice person, and who got my fic back to me in record time because I had the due date wrong.
(In Latin) dealbo : to purify, whitewash.
The winter air was pleasantly chilly and the snow was rather pretty in the little all-magical village somewhere in Scotland called Hogsmeade. The main path that led down from Hogwarts to the end of the village was dotted with students walking, talking, browsing shop windows and in general being happy. All the shops had predictably decorated for Christmas several weeks in advance and everything and everyone seemed rather in good spirits.
Even Draco Malfoy bore some modicum of resemblance to happy, which was indeed an amazing feat, considering the boy’s usually sour moods.
"Sometimes, Blaise, you have to stop and smell the roses," said Draco Malfoy, heir to a multibillion-galleon fortune.
"What?" asked Blaise Zabini, a close friend with a shaken head for his often-odd friend.
"You heard me," said Draco, tossing his aristocratic head. Unfortunately, his aristocratic head wasn’t really aristocratic anymore. His multibillion-galleon fortune was currently frozen by the ministry, while they investigated how much had been made through illegal methods. Draco thought it absolutely unfair. Only a small portion of the fortune had been made during the last hundred years, but Draco had been locked out of the entire thing since Voldemort’s defeat that July at the hands of Harry Potter on the boy’s seventeenth birthday. It was now December and Draco was sure that the only reason were conducting such a lengthy investigation was to spite him.
Contrary to public opinion, Draco had actually been fighting for the light side, posing as one of the Dark Lord’s minions and spying. Of course, now that the war was won those idiots at the ministry claimed full credit and Dumbledore’s word, which was the only evidence to prove he had been a spy, was barely valued, despite the fact that the war would never have been won without the efforts of the old headmaster and his Order of the Phoenix.
"And just where are you going to find roses in December?" Blaise demanded, jerking Draco out of his reverie.
‘Why, right there," said Draco, pointing at the shop window of Flora’s Flowers, a shop that specialized in ridiculously expensive out-of-season flowers.
Blaise groaned. "Come on, Draco, you know you can afford that sh-" He sighed as Draco entered the shop anyway, throwing a ‘Just smelling!’ over his shoulder. Reluctantly Blaise followed Draco inside. "You’re going to get kicked out," he warned.
"No, I won’t," said Draco confidently, moving between various flower arrangements and inhaling deeply. "Ah," he said happily as he inhaled from a bunch of white roses. "Roses. White ones smell the best, don’t you think?"
"They all smell the same," said Blaise impatiently.
"Nonsense," said Draco, stroking the petals of one of the white roses.
"Can I get you anything today, sir?" asked the sales clerk.
"No, thank you, nothing today," Draco said breezily. "Shall we be going, Blaise?"
The two stepped back out onto the chilly street unhappily.
"I told you you’d get kicked out," grumbled Blaise.
"We did not! We merely stayed our welcome and then left."
Blaise rolled his eyes.
"Anyway, when I get my money back I’ll buy loads of stuff from him.
"If," muttered Blaise.
Draco glared at him.
"Fine, fine, can we just go back to the castle then, if you’re quite finished sniffing flowers, Prince Malfoy?"
"Quite," said Draco haughtily and the two headed back to the castle, sulkily at first but then growing slowly more playful. Draco shoved Blaise into the bushes at some point and Blaise, growling, dusted the snow off himself and shoved the cackling Draco into a bush as well. Draco scowled and threw a snowball at him and from there it escalated into an all-out snow fight. They managed to make their way back in high spirits.
The next day Draco smiled at breakfast when he received a beautiful bouquet of a dozen white roses from a delivery owl, no note attached. He left the owl to nibble from his plate, grabbing his roses and walking down the few seats to where Blaise was sitting. He wrapped his arms around the other boy from behind, roses and all. "Thank you," he murmured into Blaise’s ear.
Blaise turned and blinked at him. "I didn’t send them." He looked sincere but Draco knew him too well to fall for it.
"Sure you didn’t," he said with a smirk. "You really didn’t need to, I forgave you."
"Yeah… and I really didn’t send them!"
Draco chuckled and withdrew his arms from around the brunette. "I have to get to class."
"So early? You haven’t eaten!"
"I promised Professor Snape I’d help him set up. Bye!"
"Chocolates," said Draco reverently, "were obviously invented by God to remind us that this earth is worth living on."
"Is that supposed to be poetic?" asked Blaise with a raised eyebrow.
"What, you don’t think so?"
"Stop drooling, it’s not becoming of a Malfoy." Draco scowled at him. Then he remembered the chocolate and brightened. "Let’s go in and smell that chocolate smell," he suggested gleefully, swinging through the glass door without waiting for an answer.
Blaise growled and followed the boy who had somehow become his best friend over the course of the war into the shop. Vince and Greg weren’t around anymore, Vince had died loyally protecting Draco and Greg was slowly going insane in Azkaban. It was odd really how quickly and firmly Draco and Blaise’s friendship had sprung up.
Blaise had been a bit of an outcast earlier, there had been some questions about his gender since Blaise, due to reasons of his own, refused to shower while anyone could see him and had always looked rather androgynous. Draco had avoided him like everyone else and Blaise didn’t really blame him. He wasn’t worth Draco’s popularity. Plus, Draco defended Blaise from non-Slytherins anyway, having at some point decided he owned and was thus responsible for Slytherin in its entirety.
When the war had come, all of Hogwarts had been divided, even families unable to always say they fought on the same side. But Slytherin? It had just fallen apart. They had to looked to their leaders, Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape, both of whom had been spying for Dumbledore and neither of whom could openly rally the Slytherins to fight for the side of light and of course refused to rally them to fight for the side of the dark. And it had been utter chaos, the children like autumn leaves in the breeze.
Blaise had been shocked and terrified when Draco came to him one night out of the blue, proclaimed he trusted him for some unknown reason, told him he was a spy and ordered Blaise to became the figurehead of Slytherin and draw them to the light side as he himself could not.
How exactly the former outcast had managed to gain the support of an entire house of peers was a mystery. Perhaps they’d just been desperate for anyone with a strong voice. Whatever the case, the majority had joined the light, pledging allegiance in his name.
Blaise had become an overnight hero and when it came out that Draco had been a Death Eater, spy or not, he became plagued with suspicions, rumors and general unpleasantness from the general populace.
Quite a role reversal that was. Despite the support of Dumbledore, the Slytherin’s hero Blaise Zabini and that of the wizarding world’s hero in general, Harry Potter, the young Malfoy simply wasn’t able to regain his former level of respect with his father in prison (again) and a dark mark on his arm.
That was probably a large part of the reason the Ministry was now pursuing Blaise’s best friend. Having not done much during the war, the Ministry was now obsessed with getting every last death eater in prison. They had already managed most, but the people still wanted blood. And the spies, despite the enormously difficult job they’d carried out, were unappreciated, suspect and an easy target.
"You like a sample?" asked the saleslady, getting Blaise’s attention. She was holding out a tantalizing tray of luscious looking white chocolates, Draco’s favorites.
"No! No, thank you," said Draco quickly, looking at the tray longingly.
"Have one!" cried the rather pushy lady, thrusting the tray at Draco.
"Well if you insist," he said reluctantly, delicately lifting a white chocolate truffle off the tray before Blaise could protest. He closed his eyes when he popped it into his mouth, looking almost pained as the chocolate melted in his mouth.
"It’s good, yes?" demanded the woman, who Blaise realized must be foreign. "You take a pound. I make box for you!"
"No!" cried Draco. "No, I can’t, I’m sorry, I’m on a strict diet, Healer’s orders and shouldn’t have had that one at all-"
Blaise grabbed Draco by the elbow and dragged him out of the shop, leaving the saleswoman sputtering angrily.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" Blaise hissed angrily. "God, I’m just gong to stop letting you come to Hogsmeade at all!"
Draco stared at him wide-eyed. "I'm an ex-spy, silly, I’m too good at sneaking out for you to stop me. And don’t buy me the chocolates, I do not need your pity," he shouted over his shoulder as he yanked his arm out of Blaise’s grip and stalked off towards the school.
"For the millionth time, I told you, I didn’t buy the stupid roses!" Blaise cried after him in exasperation.
The next morning bright and early Draco received a five-pound box of luscious chocolates of all kinds, each of them white.
He slapped Blaise across the face hard before storming out of the Great Hall, (making a grand exit for the second time in as many days, the drama queen) ignoring Blaise’s protests that he wasn’t the guilty party.
Draco growled suddenly when he and Blaise were sitting in the library studying a few days later. (They had made up, as they invariably did.)
Blaise looked up to see Harry Potter approaching their table attempting to look friendly and casual. And failing. He looked nervous as hell and Draco’s obvious angry muttering probably wasn’t helping.
‘What the hell is the matter with that prat?" Draco was saying under his breath. "Ever since I joined the Order he’s been acting like we’re best buddies."
Blaise rolled his eyes. "You’ve ranted several times already before. And be nice."
"Hi Draco," Harry said, reaching their table. His voice was as bright and warm as a ray of sunshine. If only Draco actually liked sunshine. "Blaise," Harry said with a nod, his voice considerably less warm.
Blaise ignored it and politely invited Harry to join them, which he did. Draco attempted to hide behind a conveniently large book.
"What’s have you guys been doing?" Harry asked, after a moment of awkward silence.
"You know, the usual," said Blaise.
"Slytherin stuff?" Harry asked.
"Yes, busy being depraved and all that," said Draco, voice strained.
Harry blinked. Blaise chuckled uncomfortably and after a moment Harry joined in. Draco muttered.
"So umm… are you going to Yule Ball?" Harry asked nervously, after another short period of silence.
Draco put his book down and stared at the Gryffindor. "No," he said finally.
"Why not?" Harry asked, smiling happily to have finally gained Draco’s full attention. "Haven’t you got a date?"
Draco glared at him. "Do I look like I wouldn’t have a date?"
"Well, why aren’t you going then?" Harry asked reasonably.
"If you must know, I have nothing to wear," said Draco with a sniff.
"What do you mean you’ve got nothing to wear? I’m sure you do," protested Harry.
"Last year’s, you mean?" Harry nodded. "And a Malfoy out of fashion? Heaven forbid."
"Must you be such a snob? I wish you’d go anyway," said Harry, Gryffindor sincerity oozing out of every pore.
Draco’s eyes narrowed. "I wouldn’t be convinced to go to such a silly event anyway," he said. He slammed his book shut and stood up. "I’m bored of studying. Let’s go elsewhere. Blaise."
Harry suddenly found the pattern of the flagstones very interesting.
"See you around, Harry," Blaise called as he followed Draco’s long strides out of the library. He seemed to be following Draco around a lot lately. "That was rude," he commented when he caught up to the blonde.
"Fuck you," he said angrily. "And fuck him. Rubbing in my face that I can’t go to that stupid ball. Not that I want to."
"Er… Draco? I really don’t think that was his intention," said Blaise. Unfortunately Draco’s stubbornness could easily go to the point of denseness if he was so inclined. Which he was in this case.
He absolutely refused to listen to anything Blaise said. And when beautiful white dress robes that he had admired in a shop front a few days earlier arrived for him in the morning post, he happily announced he had a secret admirer, and whoever could it be? (He had finally decided it wasn’t Blaise sending him things.)
If there was one sport Draco loved almost as much as Quidditch, it was ice-skating. Before the war, the giant squid would break the ice formed on the lake every winter morning. But the giant squid was a casualty of war and one fine Saturday morning when the weather dropped low enough, the lake surface found itself completely frozen over and Dumbledore announced it safe to skate on.
The students needed no prodding and before long the lake surface found itself covered with skaters of varying skill and size.
Draco walked very quickly (Malfoys do not run) back to his dorm and upon finding that his skates from a few years earlier could in no way be convinced to fit, he announced that ice-skating was an absolutely ridiculous pastime and would Blaise like to come with him to watch the students make fools of themselves?
Blaise himself had neither the ability nor the desire to skate. He did, however, know of Draco’s affinity for the sport, having visited him at Malfoy Manor a few Christmases earlier. He wasn’t sure if starting at the other students longingly would do Draco any good, but he agreed anyway.
They sat and watched the students, most of whom had no skill to speak of and Draco grew increasingly sulky until thoroughly irritated, Blaise suggested they go visit Hogsmeade yet again.
"I have no money, I can’t buy anything," said Draco, sound utterly miserable. Blaise would have given him a hug, only they were manly men and all that.
"We can smell the chocolate smell," coaxed Blaise. "Hell, even the roses, if it makes you happy."
Draco brightened considerably. "Maybe I’ll bump into my secret admirer."
"I think your secret admirer is probably here," said Blaise placidly, looking at Harry Potter, who was quite possibly the worst skater the world had ever seen.
"Maybe she’ll follow us and I’ll find out who she is," Draco said happily. Blaise shook his head at his friend’s abrupt mood swing. "Do you suppose she’s pretty?" Draco asked concernedly.
"I’m sure she wouldn’t dare pursue you if she wasn’t," said Blaise dryly, patting Draco on the back.
"Well then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!" cried Draco, taking off at a brisk pace.
Determined not to be following yet again, Blaise ran to catch up with the blonde.
The Hogsmeade trip did indeed consist of smelling the chocolate smell and even the roses, much to the displeasure of the respective shopkeepers.
Draco also proceeded to stare longingly at a pair of well-polished white leather ice-skates, placed appealingly in the window of the sporting goods shop.
They eventually made their way back to Hogwarts in time for Draco to glare at the last few stragglers on the ice.
Draco proceeded to spend the next day and most of the following week after classes starring longingly out onto the lake, which didn’t manage to lose its appeal for the students in the least.
The next Saturday morning when he received the white leather ice-skates he had admired via two large delivery owls, he was almost in tears. He scarfed down his breakfast and actually ran outside to try on his new acquisition. All jokes make during the week at the expense of the sport were forgotten as he fumbled with the laces and finally, finally, made his way out onto the ice.
He was a bit unsteady at first but soon regained his sense of balance and then proceeded to skate circles around everyone else, often literally.
"He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?"
Blaise turned to see Harry Potter’s familiar face; cheeks tinged red from the cold. "Yes," he agreed slowly.
Harry didn’t spare Blaise a glance, too busy filling his eyes with the sight of the Malfoy on the frozen lake.
"He has no idea it’s you," Blaise warned him. "Don’t think he’ll be pleased when he finds out."
Harry glanced over at Blaise in mild surprise but made no denials. He turned his head back out towards the lake before answering saying firmly, "It doesn’t matter. Look at that, I made him happy. How often is he happy?"
"Not very often," Blaise said truthfully. He didn’t quite believe Harry in the field of it not mattering what Draco’s reaction would be but chose to ignore it, only asking whether he planned to go out there.
"In a bit," said Harry, who then proceeded to ignore Blaise in favor of staring longingly at the blonde gracefully moving on the ice in a manner not unlike what Blaise had witnessed Draco doing to various things over the past few months. That December at least, he’d gotten most of what he’d stared longingly at. Blaise wondered if Harry would be so lucky.
Draco growled as Harry Potter nearly caused him to fall down for the third time in as many minutes.
"I’m sorry," cried Harry from his position flat on his arse. Draco rolled his eyes as he made a swooping figure eight before coming back to yank Harry to his feet.
"Whoa," said Harry, clutching onto Draco’s arms tightly. "Draco?" he asked.
"What is it?" asked Draco, eyes and mind already on the other side of the lake, where a patch of wonderfully people-free ice had opened up.
"I don’t suppose you’d care to coach me?"
Draco’s eyes widened as they snapped back to Harry. "What? Why? What? Why me?"
"Look around," Harry said dryly. Indeed, the rest of the skaters out on the ice that day made Draco look like an Olympic contender.
"But we’re… us!"
Harry cocked his head to one side. "It’s been a long time since we’ve been us."
Draco looked at him uncertainly.
"The war’s over, Draco. Let go. Have some fun, everyone else is doing it."
Draco slowly let a smirk appear on his face. "Malfoys don’t do common things. And how is teaching you to skate supposed to be fun anyway?" he asked, slowly moving backward and pulling Harry with him.
Harry grinned. "I’ll owe you one. And you’ll get to order me around and watch me fall flat on my arse."
Draco grinned back. "That does sound vaguely appealing."
"I tell you, Potter’s off his rocker!" cried Draco on yet another Saturday trip to Hogsmeade.
Blaise rolled his eyes and obligingly asked just what Potter had done.
"You know I’ve been coaching him this past week. And he keeps laughing," said Draco, as though laughing was a blasphemous crime. "At, you know, things I say!"
"Perhaps he finds you funny," Blaise suggested mildly.
"Well, of course I’m funny! But people aren’t supposed to appreciate that. He’s almost like Pansy was when she was trying to get in my pants."
"And this- oh, never mind."
Blaise turned to see what his easily distracted friend was looking at. "Oh my god, it’s a brand new shop, I have to go inside!" cried Draco, attempting to run inside but finding himself held in place by Blaise’s arm on his shoulder.
"Absolutely not," Blaise said firmly.
"I want to go inside," Draco explained slowly, as if speaking to a five-year-old.
Blaise shook his head.
"I can pick out stuff I would have sent my mother if she wasn’t dead."
Blaise gaped at his friend and released his shoulder, muttering things about incredibly cheap shots. He found Draco over in the men’s section and glared at him.
The shop appeared to be empty and had that ‘don’t get your plebian germs on our wares’ vibe to it that extremely expensive shops often have. They remained silent for a little while, roaming all over the shop, before Draco pointed out a bracelet in the men’s section to Blaise. It was made of platinum, heavy, strongly masculine, somewhat overstated yet not the point of being declass. It gave off a sense of wealth and power. "It’s perfect for my dad, don’t you think?"
Blaise smirked. "Very Lucius Malfoy."
"And that one," said Draco, pointing out a pretty, delicate silver bracelet that was neither overtly feminine nor masculine, "is for you."
"Vince," Draco said simply, pointing out a simple silver one with a plate in front on which a name could be carved.
"This one," said Draco, moving over the women’s section and pointing out a pretty gold one with rubies making slightly gaudy floral patterns on it, "is for Pansy."
"Gryffindor colors?" asked Blaise with a raised brow.
Draco frowned. "You know, I never realized it, but they suit her. Perhaps I should set her up with Weasley or some such."
"In their nightmares," muttered Blaise.
"Pearls for Millicent, even if she refuses to associate with me anymore," said Draco, pointing out yet another bracelet before moving on to a different section of the shop.
"This," he announced, "is the most beautiful thing in the whole shop. It’s for my mother."
Blaise looked. He had to admit Draco had impeccable taste. The latest bracelet was white gold, finely patterned with diamonds. It really was beautiful and would have been perfect for the late Narcissa Malfoy.
"Of course, it’s also the most expensive," said Blaise, smirking.
"Only the best for my mum," said Draco, sounding somewhat strained. "Come on, I’m ready to go."
"But you haven’t shown me yours yet," Blaise protested.
"Really, Blaise," drawled Draco. "Christmas is about the spirit of giving."
Blaise snorted. "Like you haven’t had your eye on something since we walked in."
"Oh fine," said Draco, leading Blaise back to the men’s section. He pointed out a classy, medium size, platinum one, plain other than the pattern of the links.
"It’s like a smaller version of your father’s," Blaise pointed out.
"How very fitting. That’s me," said Draco bitterly.
"No, it’s not."
"Leave me alone. That’s the one I like."
They didn’t realize until about half an hour later at the Three Broomsticks that Blaise had left some of his Christmas shopping in the jewelry shop. Blaise being occupied with a rather messy meal, Draco volunteered to go fetch it and Blaise agreed after extracting several reluctant promises from Draco not to peek inside.
When Draco entered the jewelry shop he saw that Harry Potter was glancing at the men’s bracelet section. Somehow feeling that something worth watching was going to occur, he cast a disillusionment charm on himself and hid behind a large rotating display of watches.
"Mr. Malfoy came in here today," said a salesman, appearing out of seemingly nowhere and making Draco jump. "I noted his selections like you asked."
Draco’s eyes widened considerably as Harry smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Steven, I appreciate it."
"This here," said Steven, who had a rather bad case of acne. He held out the platinum bracelet Draco had earlier admired.
Harry hissed. "It looks expensive."
"It is. But he’s worth it isn’t he?" said Steven in an annoyingly casual salesmannish manner.
"You’re right," agreed Harry. "I’ll take it. Does it come with one of those nice velvet boxes?" He grinned happily. "I can’t wait to see his face."
Draco gaped as things began to click in his head. Potter? Potter had been sending him all those things. Harry Potter, Saint Who Lived and Dark Lord Killer Extraordinaire had taken it upon himself to make Draco Malfoy his next charity case.
He let loose a strangled noise and when both Harry and Steven turned to stare at him he surmised that he’d lost control of his disillusionment charm.
Draco stared at Harry. That… that couldn’t possibly be true. Could it? Was Potter playing some kind of joke? One glance at the look on his face disproved that. Harry Potter? Had been getting him all those presents? He wasn’t a pretty girl! What the hell was going on?
Harry opened his mouth to say something.
No. God, no, Draco couldn’t listen to him right now. Everything looked a bit blurry. Was it supposed to be like that? Draco needed… elsewhere. Slytherin: wonderful, cozy dungeons and Blaise to rant at.
Not hearing whatever it was Harry was saying, and ignoring his protests, Draco hurried out of the shop before turning towards Hogwarts, breaking into a run when he realized Harry was following and yelling something after him.
He didn’t stop running till he realized he couldn’t breathe. He stopped and looked around. He was almost at Hogwarts. There was no one behind him.
Unfortunately, stopping meant his thoughts had a chance to catch up with him and he really didn’t feel like facing them just yet. He took off again, but this time at a pace more conducive to respiration.
Soon enough he was in his native Slytherin dorms, which while cozy (to them at least) were sadly lacking in the Blaise department. Draco threw himself down on his bed, resigned that his thoughts would finally have their say.
There was a whole mess of jumbled ideas in his head but one word stood out. Charity. That bloody saint was performing acts of charity on him, Draco Malfoy.
Well. That was simple enough to deal with then. Draco closed his eyes as he felt his body fill with familiar rage and hatred towards the Boy Who Lived.
Who did that bastard think he was?! Showering him in, come to think of it, ridiculously romantic gifts? Very feminine ones too. And all white. Was that supposed to be symbolic or something? Who the hell did he think Draco was, some damsel in distress up locked up in a tower?
Whatever many things Draco was, he was fairly sure of one thing. He was no perfect Gryffindor maiden. He wasn’t a maiden at all, actually. And while he wasn’t as evil as the Ministry would have liked, he was definitely not an angel like Potter apparently supposed him to be.
Potter had no place wooing him. If anyone were going to do any wooing, it would be him. Not that he wanted to woo Potter. And whether they were (very expensive) gifts given purely out of the goodness of Potter’s heart or with an ulterior motive, Draco Malfoy did not accept bloody charity.
He may have lost everything, but his name was still worth something, goddamnit. He would make sure of it.
He walked over to his wardrobe, where, still in its box, the dress robes Potter had given him were. He yanked them out and ran a hand over the wonderfully soft fabric. Pity. They were quality robes. They weren’t the ones he would have selected though, decided Draco. While they were gorgeous, he didn’t actually like white all that much. Bloody Potter, imposing his tastes on Draco.
He didn’t hesitate as he walked over to the lit fireplace and threw them in. He didn’t register the sound of the dorm door opening.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" came a sudden cry. Blaise was back. "You left my bag in that goddamn store and disappeared!" Oh. Right. The bag. He hadn’t seen the robes yet, then. "I know you enjoy being as insufferable a brat as you can but you just can’t be so irresponsible! Everything everywhere is not about Draco bloody Malfoy, difficult as it may be to comprehend!"
Draco didn’t answer, but managed to feel vaguely guilty about abandoning Blaise’s shopping bag when he’d promised to get it.
"Harry Potter of all people gave it to me!" cried Blaise.
"Draco?" Blaise wasn’t yelling anymore. "What are you doing?" He walked up from behind Draco till he was standing right next to him. "Bloody hell!" he cried, dropping to his knees in front of the fire. "Are those-?"
Draco still didn’t say anything, he hadn’t taken his eyes off the merrily burning clothes since he’d tossed them into the fire.
"You found out," Blaise said simply. He sounded almost sad.
"I don’t accept bloody charity," replied Draco, equally simply.
"He’s in love with you." Definite sadness there.
"I don’t care. I won’t accept gifts from him, love or not."
"Would it be any different it if were someone else?"
Draco considered it. "I doubt it. Secret admirers are all very well and good, as long as they’re secret and you don’t have to think about who they are and how they’re pitying you and whatever goddamned image they have of you."
Blaise cast a last longing glance toward the burning robes before standing up and moving to touch Draco. The latter stopped him, batting his arm away. "I’m Draco Malfoy. That has to stand for something."
Blaise sighed. Draco stalked towards his wardrobe again and pulled out the figure skates Potter had gotten him. He stalked back to the fireplace and almost threw them into the fire as well but stopped and placed them carefully on the floor instead.
"He owes me," he told Blaise defensively, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring, defiantly daring Blaise to call him wrong. "He owes me for those damned skating lessons."
"I’m not saying anything," said Blaise with a shrug, after Draco had glared at him for several minutes.
They remained silent for several minutes, just watching the robes burn.
"Desino incendia," said Draco finally, waving his wand at the fireplace. The fire went out. "I think I ought to send Potter a little gift, don’t you?" he attempted to drawl, carefully scooping the charred remains of the once magnificent dress robes back into their box, even allowing himself to get dirty for once. "I can’t wait to see his face," he said viciously.