No reason to celebrate

Something was bothering him. A hard tapping sound and again this annoying screech. With a grunt Draco rolled over and carefully peered in direction of the noise.
A large grey owl impatiently tapped at the window, moving her head from left to right to find out whether the ignorant occupant of this house had at last woken.

When Draco reluctantly opened the window to let the owl in, it swooped past him and landed straight on his bed, burying its claws deeply in Draco’s expensive silk sheets, as if to punish him.

“No!” Draco groaned and carefully stretched out his hand towards the bird.

With a click of its beak, the owl pulled one of its legs free of the fabric, but not without leaving a remarkable amount of torn threads, and stuck out the leg waiting for Draco to take the letter.

Malfoy shook his head in dismay as he regarded the sheets when the owl had flown off again. “Great!” he mumbled and unfolded the letter.

It was from Hermione and Draco grinned in surprise. Obviously his grovelling had worked. He quickly read the letter and raised an eyebrow. She had given him a few more addresses and had also written about Harry. He was doing what? Draco couldn’t believe his own eyes. Cons? Apparently Hermione had even gone through the trouble of finding out just where Harry was holding his latest shows. Italy. South Italy in fact. She had written down a few towns and dates and Draco’s grin grew even broader. How warm would it be in south Italy right now?


The next morning found Harry in a much better condition and he nearly jumped from the bed, channelling all his new found energy on his day ahead. After breakfast he called his agent, beamed at him, told him to get his lazy bum to the convention and immediately after Eric’s face had vanished flooed directly to the con himself.

The fact that there were already a good handful people roaming the big building sent Harry’s good mood to even greater heights. Whistling he took his place behind the dark wooden table and neatly stacked the yet to be signed pictures on his right hand side and took a hold on his quill.

The midday sun hit his sensitive grey eyes in a very uncomfortable way, as soon as Draco had apparated in the hidden area marked as an apparition spot. From here he could apparate on to the convention centre, but not before he had talked to the sinister looking witch that seemed to manage this place.

Draco showed her his diplomatic pass and her face seemed to darken even further but she obviously retrained herself from asking more detailed questions. Throwing her a charming smile, Draco vanished with a crack and appeared only seconds later right before the square and rather boring looking building of the convention centre.

Faded flaps bearing the Hogwarts and Griffindor crest hung limply in the warm air and only very children were to be seen right before the entrance. Two girls in tatty uniforms greeted the guests at the main doors and charged everyone with two silver sickles.

Draco looked around and was thrown back by the amounts of Harry Potter trinkets, Hogwarts pictures and children’s toys. There were fake “Harry Potter wands”, “Hogwarts school robes” and even tea mugs showing a young roundish face of Harry when he had been about twelve years old.

With a grin Draco even spotted a few Slytherin crests and a picture of his younger self that was glaring menacingly. Shaking his head in disbelief, the blond man scanned the area around him, trying to find either hide or hair of Harry.

He was just about to walk to the far end of the building, when he heard a few younger voices coming from behind one of the stands, talking in hushed tones.

“Oh my, what a whole lot of crap!”, a girl giggled. According to the accent she was from somewhere near Birmingham.

“Yeah, pathetic. My parents dragged me here. Since I am going to Hogwarts myself now and all. As if there wasn’t enough Harry Potter trash there already”, huffed a boy.

“Have you seen him yet?”, asked a slightly hoarse boy clearly from Yorkshire.

“Yes”, piped the girl. “He looks so old. And these clothes he wears; awful. By Merlin, just imagine, sitting there the whole day being happy because somebody wants your bloody picture! How low can one sink?” she giggled again.

Draco’s face had grown grim as he listened. Sure enough he never had been buddy buddy with famous Harry Potter, but the guy had deserved better.

A sudden Idea struck Draco and he remembered the “take your own picture” cabins he had walked pass some time before. He turned around on his heels and headed straight to one of the cabins. After he had received a quite nice picture of himself that flicked his long blond hair back every few seconds, Draco returned to his former task of finding Harry.

When he at last found the part where Harry’s desk was stationed a wave of pity hit him. The kids had been right. Harry looked tired, old and as tatty as the whole place. His face was shining but somehow it seemed as fake as the school uniforms one could buy here. As for the clothes …, well that was an entirely other matter all together.

Draco got into line, waiting patiently until the five persons before him had gotten their autograph and when he was the next, he just held out his own picture and asked politely “Would you please sign my picture?”

Harry who hadn’t looked up at the man that was standing before him, stared at the picture while his right hand froze in midair hovering above the stack of photos from where he was just about to take one.
His head snapped up and he looked into the most grey eyes he had ever known.

“Draco?” he stuttered perplexed and a genuine smile spread across his face.

“The same!” Malfoy smirked and waved his picture again. “Now, will you sign it or what?”

Grinning broadly now, Harry signed right across the Draco in the picture earning an annoyed scowl because now there was black ink smeared into the perfectly groomed blond hair.

“There you go.” Harry handed Draco the picture.

“Great Potter, just great! Look what you have done! My hair is getting all blotchy.” With a wink of his eye Draco snatched the picture and spun around in mock disgust.

All during the day Harry kept looking out for his former nemesis and was happy to see him still roaming the con.

When at last the end of the con had arrived Harry quickly gathered his things and headed to the exit where he had seen Draco last.

Right outside the large double door Draco stood, watching the sun going down and waiting for Harry.

“Hi!” Harry made his presence known.

“Oh, hi there.”

“So, what are you of al people doing here?”

“Come to see what the famous golden boy is up to. Gilderoy Lockheart was right you know? Fame is a fickle friend.”

Harry felt an enormous blush of shame spread across his face and stared at his shoes.

Draco watched Harry’s reaction and immediately knew he had gone too far and he had hurt Harry deeply.

“I am sorry, Harry.” He said quickly. “It is not in my place to say something like that. Come on, why don’t you let me invite you out for dinner, so I can make it up to you and you can tell me all about your fame and fortune.”

Harry nodded slowly and looked back up at Malfoy and to his astonishment only found a certain amount of sincerity there.

t.b.c