"Harry, an owl just brought me word of the whole Dracaena thing. There's more dog in you than in Lupin and me both.
The Dementors are on my ass, but I'd go right back to Azkaban for the pleasure of seeing Lucius' face right now.
Now, Dumbledore can't teach you how to keep a woman, so just do what worked for your dad. And by that I mean bullying Snape. The more you bully him, the more women love you.
I'm sure hair isn't the only thing you got from James. If you trust me on this one, I'll send you some nice engagement rings as an Easter gift.
Big dog out."
Yes, Harry took Malfoid to the Yule Ball. So what? Everyone would not shut up about it. It was getting really annoying. Beyond belief, they actually did make the Daily Prophet — their faces were plastered on the front cover. Someone had taken the picture while they were walking to the dance floor. And the worst part of it was how happy they looked.
Even Dumbledore had a laugh at his expense. “And for Harry Potter’s characteristic bravery in taking Miss Malfoy to the Yule Ball, I should like to award… fifty points to Gryffindor!”
Many cheers followed from the Gryffindor table, and surprisingly, more than a few from the Slytherin table, however they seemed to be provoking her.
He tried to talk to her more than a few times, but she shot him a glare of death and he couldn’t speak. Clearly, she did not want to be seen with him in public. He almost wanted to apologize, but how would that sound? “Sorry I asked you to the dance?”
Finally he found an opportunity — he caught her in the hallway. Their eyes met, but she looked away quickly and walked faster.
“Wait, Malfoy.”
She kept walking. He followed her.
“Do not follow me!” He did not stop. Finally, she dragged him into an empty classroom. Somebody in the hallway whistled.
“Do not follow me, do not speak to me, got it Potter? Do not even glance in my direction.”
“Why?”
She was quiet for a moment, as if she could not decide how to answer.
“It was a mistake, Potter. Don’t get the wrong idea.”
“I know we had fun together.”
She didn’t speak, or meet his eyes.
“I thought you said you would keep me.”
She flushed. “Shut up! I didn’t say that.”
“You did, actually.”
“Look Potter, I made a mistake. But we can't be together. So get over it. It didn’t happen.”
“Why can’t we be together?”
He surprised himself. He didn’t tell himself that he wanted to marry her, only that he wanted to apologize. But he had not apologized, instead he heard himself doubling down.
She stared at him, scrutinizing his face. She seemed to be trying to decide whether he meant it, before she responded. She sighed.
“We just can’t, Potter. I do expect you to get over yourself. You wanted to ask that Chang girl anyways. It was only a bet, after all.”
He frowned. She was right. Before that dance he had not paid a thought to her at all. It didn’t enter his mind. Or maybe it had. More than a few times actually. Late at night. But not seriously.
“My father is quite incensed. Dobby has been chained to a radiator and beaten mercilessly. I doubt he is even alive.”
Harry burst out laughing. “What?”