darkravenwrote: (rose)
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Author: [livejournal.com profile] darkravenwrote
Title: Extrovert vs Introvert: A Battle of Wills
Pairings: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 513
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Prompt: For my ‘extrovert’ tile on GYWO Bingo.
Author’s Notes: Well, this was originally going to focus more on Draco’s extrovertedness than Harry’s introvertedness, but oh well, what can you do.
Summary: Parties aren’t really Harry’s area of expertise, but Draco knows best.

Harry doesn't like going out. There are photographers around every corner with their flashing bulbs and judgemental eyes. And with them come journalists, if you can even call them that. They flit around with their Quick Quote Quills spreading falsehoods and bravados through the tabloids. Which leads to the stress of the following day, when his face will be plastered across the front page of whatever paper and everything he's done will be called into question, from the way he holds his fork to the women he doesn't pick to dance with him. Everyone will want to talk to him, to ask him question after question after question, none of which he wants to answer.

Unfortunately, Draco likes his parties. He revels in the politics of society, he has his mother's flare for it. He comes alive before the cameras, and preens at each appearance in the papers in a way Harry never will. And when they splash negative bile about him across the nth page, the insults roll from his shoulders like so little water.

This makes Harry's life difficult. Especially so since they moved in together. Every Saturday, it's 'there's a benefit' or 'my mother's invited us to' or 'Theo says Pansy knows of a rave.' And every Saturday, Harry has to let him down again, because -- no matter how Harry pleads -- Draco will not go alone. Every Saturday he has the honour of seeing Draco turn his bright eyes away while he reins in his frustration. Then comes the set of his jaw, the simmering anger he doesn't want Harry to see.

Harry sees it. He knows he causes it, but he can't change who he is. He told Draco, a long time ago. He doesn't like the outside world, mildly fears it if he's being honest. And he won't be forced out into it, even by Draco's will.

Every so often, though, the world conspires against him. Once in a long while, events coincide to harass him down the path he dreads. When the ministry has been hounding him for an appearance at a charity gala. And Ron and Hermione and every Weasley in existence tells him repeatedly that it'll be good for him. And even Narcissa Malfoy descends from on high to highlight the importance of his attendance at this particular event. 'You know, Mr Potter, if you were to make an appearance as the papers suggest, the orphans would receive five times as many donations,' her snake-tongue emotionally blackmails him. And, on top of that, Draco's eyes beseeching him from their bed the morning of the event.

What can Harry do but say yes?

“You’ll go?” Draco asks, surprised, his feet pausing in their quest for his slippers somewhere under their bed.

“This once,” he allows.

Draco doesn’t crow triumph, or drown him in gratitudes, or coax his confidence with reassurances. He only smiles softly and caresses Harry’s frayed nerves with humour, as is their way.

“I’m sure all the orphan tears will persuade you otherwise. Theirs seem to work better than mine, at any rate.”
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