The incident did not fail to be talked about over and over again, especially by Serenity Hudson. Now Harry was a real Hero, not just some abstract thing they always heard about as a history lesson. And this time, Malfoy was also a hero. They weren't talked about as the gay teachers any more, but as the valiant team of wizards defeating the bad guy, and in such a great way it couldn't not be discussed.

Yet Harry knew that their time at Hogwarts was drawing to a close, because the month was almost out and the Board of Governors would soon make their decision.

But something else was brewing. The fifth years had asked Dumbledore if they could have another dance. One so close on the heels of the Yule Ball was usually not permitted, but Dumbledore agreed anyway, since there had been so much commotion. Harry suspected it was more of a going away party.

Harry's Defense students told him about it and asked him if he and Draco would dance together again.

Harry blushed down to his toenails and he slumped against the edge of his desk. "Oh no. We can't do that. We're not allowed."

"Is that what all the flap is about?" asked Rosencrantz, scowling.

Harry swallowed. "Well…yes. Look, I can't discuss this with you. It's a grown-up issue."

"But it's affecting us," said Hudson.

"I'm a teacher. Professor Malfoy is a teacher. We are not allowed to…to…do anything like that anymore. It was foolish the first time."

Rosencrantz couldn't let it go. "But you still love each other, don't you?"

"That's beside the point. We aren't allowed to show it-" Harry blanched. "The rules of the school say I can't-"

"--be yourself?" finished Treeloft. His face was darker than ever. "So what does that teach us?"

"I'm supposed to be teaching you magic!" Harry pleaded, on the verge of tears.

Rosencrantz folded her hands on her desk and said quietly, "What better magic is there than love?"

Harry couldn't speak. His throat was too thick for that. His eyes felt prickly, but instead of crying in front of them, he chose to turn around, march up his stairs, and close himself in his study. But while he cowered there, letting the tears of self-recriminations fall down his cheeks, he considered something he should probably do as his last act as a teacher, and he made preparations to do it the following day.

In the morning, Harry trudged down to Hogsmeade alone and entered the Three Broomsticks. He'd already talked to Madam Rosmerta and owled the Fenwicks, so he made his way to the tavern's fireplace and flooed himself over.

* * *

"Mr. and Mrs. Fenwick," said Harry stepping out of their fireplace. "Thank you for seeing me." He extended his hand. They were flustered at meeting the famous Harry Potter and took his hand sloppily before they stood around blankly and then offered him a seat. The drawing room was much like the Dursleys', with flowered wallpaper, cozy chairs with antimacassars, and heavy drapes over the window swept up into a swag.

"You know, of course, why I am here," he said, whispering a Scourgify on himself so he wouldn't get soot on their sofa.

"You want us to send Rupert back to that school," said Mr. Fenwick.

"Yes, I do. It's the best thing for Rupert and the best thing for Hogwarts."

"But if he goes back," said Mrs. Fenwick, "he'll fall in with that boy again and…and…"

"Yes?"

They realized who they were talking to and suddenly quieted.

"Rupert was very happy at Hogwarts. And he found someone with whom he could share."

"Is that what you call it?" Mr. Fenwick appeared to have recovered.

"Ye-e-s, that's what I call it. I could also say that Malcolm Treeloft was Rupert's boyfriend, but you didn't seem ready to hear that."

Mrs. Fenwick made a shrieking sound and took out a well-used tissue from her sleeve, pressing the wad to her nose.

"Look, whether you want this or not, it is a reality. Rupert is gay. He was born that way. He found someone special to him. Is that such a crime?"

"He never would have had those thoughts if it hadn't been for you and that Malfoy."

"Professor Malfoy. And you know that is ridiculous. Your son had the courage of his convictions to do what he thought was right. I wish I was as brave as he."

Mrs. Fenwick stopped snuffling and looked up. "Eh? You wish you were as brave as our Rupert?"

"Yes. I don't think it's much of a secret that the Board of Governors is going to sack Professor Malfoy and myself. At least he has the courage to face things as I do not."

Mrs. Fenwick cocked her head like some overgrown parakeet. "They're going to sack you? Just for dancing?"

"As you and your husband pointed out, you don't feel our conduct was becoming a teacher, and many other parents feel the same way. They might close the school for good if more parents take their children out, so it's probably for the best that we leave. Perhaps you will see your way to bringing Rupert back when we're gone."

"But that boy will still be there!" said Mr. Fenwick.

"That boy happens to love me!"

They all turned. Rupert Fenwick stood on the stairs, glaring at them. "And I happen to love him. And I want to go back to Hogwarts!"

"You go back upstairs!" said his father, standing.

"No. This concerns me, too. You are all punishing Professor Potter and Professor Malfoy and they don't deserve it. They are really good teachers and this shouldn't make one bit of difference. So what if they're gay. So am I!"

"No you're not!" yelled his father.

"YES I AM!" He came down the stairs and confronted them. "It doesn't matter how loud you yell or what school you put me in. I'm still going to be gay. I've known it a long time and I've been trying to tell you but you just won't see it. Now either you love me or you don't. Make a decision, because you can't hide me away forever."

"Hide you?" wailed his mother. "We're not hiding you! We're protecting you!"

"From what? Getting a good Wizarding education? Please, Mum. You haven't even looked me in the eye since I got home. Do you love me or not?"

Harry looked at the carpet. This was a place he didn't belong, but he also understood if he hadn't shown up, this discussion may never have occurred.

Mrs. Fenwick wailed again and launched from the sofa, grasping her son in her arms. Rupert's lip quivered. He looked over his mother's shoulder to his father. "Dad?"

Mr. Fenwick sat twitching on the sofa and wouldn't budge. But Rupert pled again with a faltering voice, and his father wilted. He shuffled to them and encased the two of them in his arms.

Harry felt it was time to go. Even if he hadn't convinced them, at least there was some progress of family communication. He made his way to the fireplace when Rupert lifted his head from his family hug. "Professor Potter. Thanks anyway."

"No problem, Rupert."

"Wait, Professor," said Mr. Fenwick, unfolding himself from his family. "Look. I don't know about all this, but I know Rupert's been depressed ever since we brought him home. I…I don't know if I can sanction it, but we promise to at least think about sending him back."

"That's a start, sir." He gave them all a wary smile, stepped into the fireplace, and flooed back to the Three Broomsticks.

* * *

The day of the dance arrived, and it was only a few days till the end of the month. Dumbledore insisted that Harry and Draco patrol the dance--probably more punishment, Harry speculated, but they didn't feel much like being there since this was where all their troubles began.

They stood quietly in front of the punch bowl. "So have you heard they sent Wulf Ingalls to Azkaban?" asked Harry.

"Yes. But what kind of punishment is that without dementors. I want him to suffer."

"He will. It still isn't a pleasant place, as you will recall."

"All too well."

Draco sipped the punch and grimaced.

"They didn't spike the punch did they?"

"No. I'm grimacing because they didn't and I can sure use some firewhiskey."

Harry scanned the crowd. "Oh no. Someone from the Prophet." A photographer was snaking around the edges of the dance floor with a perplexed look on his face. He spotted Harry and Draco and moved closer.

Harry scowled. "If you turn that camera once towards me or Professor Malfoy, I will hex you."

From any other wizard, the photographer might have shrugged it off, but not from Harry Potter. He lowered his camera deliberately and moved away.

Harry straightened his dress robes and glanced about the room again as if the encounter never happened. "Look," he said quietly, "I always meant to ask you. What's with that Chocolate Frog card of me you carry in your wallet?" Harry had seen it months ago and Draco was even so careless as to leave it lying about after the Cymbeline Sorenson incident before the Yule Ball.

Draco stared at Harry and turned a very interesting shade of red. "How do you know about that?"

Harry shrugged and grinned. "Powerful wizard, remember? Not just anyone gets their own card."

Draco turned away. Harry could tell he was quite embarrassed. "I just…just came upon it one day, okay?"

"It's signed."

"Yeah, well. I…ah…saw you in a Muggle shop once and I paid some Muggle kid to go in and have you autograph it."

"When?"

"A while ago, all right!"

"Before we met up again?"

Draco finally turned to Harry. "Yes," he said crisply. "I thought it was a good reminder of what a stupid thing I had done following Voldemort."

"But why get it signed?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Makes it more valuable in case I had to sell it. Really, Potter." He shook his head as if even a simpleton should have seen that.

Harry chuckled at Draco's Slytherin schemes before the humor filtered away and he grew silent and pensive again. "It looks like a good turn out."

Draco nodded and replaced the cup on the table. "Yeah. Fifth years and up, is it?"

"No, fourth years and up. The fifth years devised it."

"Sure are a lot of people not dancing," said Draco. He scanned the crowd of students but they seemed to be looking back at them. "I'm surprised to see Treeloft here."

Harry straightened. "Really? Where?"

"Over there. Looking sullen as usual."

The band struck up a waltz, and Harry looked at Draco meaningfully. "Sure wish I could dance with you," he said quietly.

"Yes. Well, I did enjoy it with you. Of course any excuse to touch you, Harry, cannot be overlooked."

"That's sweet."

"I am not sweet."

"Oh yes you are. In every sense of the word, including taste."

Draco blushed and shook his head. "You are simply incurable."

The waltz ended and another set began and still no one approached the dance floor. Harry looked around. "Why did they want a dance if no one is going to do it?"

Then, as if on cue, Felicia Rosencrantz stepped to the floor followed by Serenity Hudson. They joined hands and began to dance. Harry raised a brow but said nothing, looking over at Dumbledore. Then another couple of girls took hands and spun each other across the boards. And then another couple of girls. Then two boys took to the floor and another two boys.

Draco stiffened. "What the hell-?" They both looked at Dumbledore. The old wizard was tapping his hand to the music's rhythm seemingly oblivious to the mutiny before him.

Soon all the students had paired up, but all with the same sex, and they were dancing a waltz together. As they swung by Draco and Harry they lobbed smiles and warm greetings. The photographer suddenly looked very happy and began snapping away at the students.

Treeloft was the only one alone and he wore as much surprise as the two teachers.

Harry couldn't believe it and then he remembered to breathe. It was a true show of confidence, but with a bittersweet smile, he thought it was probably a little too late.

But just then the door opened, and Rupert Fenwick walked in. Treeloft didn't see him at first, being too occupied with the amazing goings on of the dance floor. But when Fenwick tapped his shoulder, he jumped back in astonishment. And then he took Fenwick in his arms and gave him a kiss that made Harry blush.

"Is that what we look like?" asked Draco and then he looked at Harry. "Gives me an idea. What do you think of a mirror in the bedroom?"

"Draco! Don't you see what's going on?"

"Yes, I do. And I feel like the biggest git for not dancing. How about you?"

Harry threw back his head and laughed. He loved every one of these students right now. Even Fenwick and Treeloft were dancing, wiping the tears from each other's faces. He turned to Draco and with a big smile said, "Mr. Malfoy, I would love to dance!"

Draco took him in his arms and spun him forward, straight-backed and as elegant as Draco was capable of. They even let the photographer take a picture and then they both looked at Dumbledore as they danced passed him and he was smiling with a wide grin.


On to The Epilogue
"Wrapping Things Up"

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"Conspiracies"

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