for my darling vic — i know it's a tad belated, but happy birthday, love! you are so beautiful and talented, and i am beyond grateful to have known you and had you in my life this past year. love always, noor (and yes, this will be a multichap! it will be continued! it might take a while but it will be!)

Draco was unnerved, to say the least. He was sitting in his compartment with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy, as per usual, the latter clinging to his arm in a rather uncomfortable manner, her hands clammy and her cheek pressed so close to Draco's that they were nearly touching. He would have felt slightly nauseous had he not been so disquieted.

As he pasted on his signature smile, with just a hint of swaggering arrogance, he tried to ignore the shallowness of his breath and the shaking of his hands. Though he prattled on incessantly about his father's recent work promotion, his eyes darted around the compartment, and his heart raced in an erratic sort of pattern. His mind was laden with darkness and turmoil, with the ink-black depths of a Vanishing Cabinet, and the ink-black smile of his aunt Bellatrix.

Shuddering, Draco let his gaze wander up for a brief moment, away from Pansy's sickeningly sweet smile, to where their trunks balanced precariously on the rack above.

There was the faintest of movements, as the bars groaned and shifted ever so slightly. Tilting his head to one side to listen more closely, Draco was able to hear a sharp intake of breath.

Someone was up there, clearly.

And he was fairly certain he knew exactly who.

"I'll meet you guys later, there's something I need to take care of," Draco said.

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged skeptical glances, but a moment later they nodded and followed the crowd of students off of the train.

As soon as they were gone, Draco's carefully constructed mask fell away, leaving nothing but raw fear.

Potter knew. He had to.

Draco didn't know how, but somehow he'd figured it out and now he was going to confront him, and the entire plan would fall apart, and the Dark Lord would —

No. Draco wouldn't let it come to that.

He reached up to grab his trunk, not at all surprised by the thud that followed, an invisible body crashing to the ground.

"What, were you hoping to catch me discussing my evil schemes, Potter?" he taunted, the facade falling effortlessly back into place. "I'm afraid your plan isn't going to work."

There was something unfamiliar glittering in Harry's stunningly emerald eyes as he undid the cloak, flickering into visibility and getting to his feet. He took a step closer to Draco.

"That wasn't my plan."

Draco reached for his wand as Harry took another step. They were inches apart now, so close that Draco could make out every detail on his face — the slope of his nose, the angle of his jaw, the brilliance of those eyes . . .

But despite that fact, no amount of scrutinizing could have prepared him for what happened next.

"This was." Harry closed the distance between them, one hand reaching up to cup Draco's cheek — a movement, it should be noted, that was far more graceful than Pansy's attempts earlier — before he tipped his head forward, and his lips met Draco's.

He was pushed up against the window now, and before he could even process what was happening his hands were buried in the dark, messy tangle of Harry's hair, disheveling it even more, and his breath came in heavy gasps, and they were so close Draco couldn't tell whose heart it was that he felt the warmth of, racing and volatile and spiraling out of control. Harry's hands had wound their way around his waist as if he could pull Draco closer than he already was, and whatever fears he'd had earlier were long, long gone.

"Potter," he finally managed to say, forcing himself to pull away.

Harry didn't answer. Draco wasn't even sure what he would have wanted him to say if he did.

"This was a mistake," Draco continued finally, the words sounding off-kilter even to him. It was a brazen lie, and he knew Harry could see right through it.

But Draco turned away. Harry stammered something behind him, perhaps calling him back. His voice was heavy with emotion and guilt and hurt which sent a pang through Draco; almost sharp enough to make him turn around and try to fix this mess he'd made. Almost. But not enough.
Because this was wrong, all wrong. He shouldn't be here, he shouldn't have done this, he was a fool — and Merlin's beard, why was he still standing there? He had to fix this.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, drawing his wand. He tripped over the next words, almost butchering the spell. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Draco did not hesitate as he tossed the Invisibility Cloak over his shoulder and left the train without once looking back.