The last guest had finally departed, and the Manor was just settling back into its normal echoing silences.

Draco stood at the closed French windows in the downstairs parlor and stared out into the lashing rain as the evening became progressively darker.

He softly fingered the worn piece of parchment he had taken to caring around in his pocket. April showers and the world crying all of its tears indeed.

"Draco."

Draco turned around and watched his mother enter the room.

"Are we going to talk about it?"

She smiled when Draco didn't respond. "We can, if you wish. I have to admit I was startled at your choice, but it wasn't so shocking once I had a chance to think about it."

Draco blinked. "I ... I thought you would be ... more ..." The word appalled was on the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of it than to say it out loud. "... surprised?"

"I guess it's not so surprising when you're expecting it." She looked at the slack astonishment on Draco's face and reached out for his hand. "How could you have thought we didn't know? A mother always knows, Draco. Not about Harry specifically, but rather your preferences."

Draco swallowed past the lump in his throat.

"We talked about it once, your father and I."

Draco blinked again, "And...?"

Narcissa smiled. "I'll admit Lucius wasn't best pleased, but he accepted it. He made his peace with it. He would have supported you, Draco. Whatever you chose. Whoever you chose."

Her smile wavered as her lips trembled until she pinched them still. "I know he wasn't the most expressive man in the world, but he loved you, Draco. Deeply, in his own way. He would have agreed to anything to see you happy."

"How come-" Draco cleared his throat. "How come you never said anything? All those articles in the Prophet..."

Narcissa smiled. "I assumed you would come speak to me when you were ready."

"I thought..."

Narcissa squeezed his fingers. "I would sacrifice a great deal for your happiness, Draco. With whoever you choose. Your father and I did sacrifice much in order that you could be happy however you chose." Her smile turned gentle. "You haven't lost me, Draco. You never could. No matter what."

Draco blinked away the stinging in his eyes and nodded, his throat too tight for words.

They stood there watching the rain as the night set in.

Finally, Narcissa stirred. "Come. Have something to eat. You haven't eaten a bite all day."

"I ... Yes. Okay."

The morning felt rejuvenated. Bright. Like the rain had washed away the grime and the heaviness in the air, leaving behind a fresh new face.

Draco and his mother had spent the rest of the night reminiscing about the man that Lucius had been in happier times.

Narcissa had dabbed at wet eyes as often as they had laughed, and Draco had felt something in his chest loosen as they had sat there, remembering, cherishing.

He hadn't gotten to bed until the early hours of the morning, but what little sleep he had gotten had been mercifully free of nightmares.

He sipped his tepid tea, oddly peaceful in his current numbness, even if it was edged by exhaustion pulling at his limbs, making him feel bowed down.

"He's a very nice young man."

Draco looked up at his mother. "I ..."

Narcissa smiled. "He cares about you. I could tell as much even in the limited time I had the chance to observe him with you."

"I ..." Draco stopped and then tried again. "I think I care about him too." His stomach clenched at admitting that out loud for the first time.

"Invite him to the Manor? I would greatly like to be introduced formally."

"I don't know if he'll agree... I'll ask."

Narcissa smiled and nodded. "More tea?"

Draco picked up his pace as he walked towards the castle.

He wasn't hurrying precisely.

Just – something in him wanted to find Potter and – well, he wasn't sure and what exactly.

Just that he needed to see him.

His mother's words from the night before and that morning swirled in his head as he walked.

I would sacrifice a great deal for your happiness, Draco. With whoever you choose.

He's a very nice young man.

Invite him to the Manor?

So deep in thought was he that he almost walked right by the figure huddled on the front steps of the castle until a hand reached out and snagged his cloak as he swept past.

He stopped, abruptly confronted by green eyes looking up at him. "Potter."

"Hi." Potter gave him a small smile before he stood up and dusted off his trousers.

Potter stuffed his hands in his pockets as the silence stretched while they stood staring at each other.

Then Potter shrugged awkwardly. "I know we're not ..." Another shrug. "But I just wanted to make sure you were okay..."

"I... I'm fine."

Potter gave him a narrow-eyed look, and Draco gave him a small smile. "No, really, I'm okay. Thanks. And ... thank you for coming earlier. It meant a lot to mother and me."

Potter ducked his head and shrugged again.

Draco hesitated, then took a small step forward.

Potter's eyes snapped up to his, and Draco froze.

He wasn't sure what he wanted exactly, he just...

Then Potter closed the distance between them, enveloping him in a big bear hug, pulling him close, settling hands in familiar places, one around his waist holding him to Potter, and the other carding through his hair, pressing his forehead into Harry's neck.

Draco held on to Potter's waist and breathed in his familiar scent. Soap and sweat and sunshine.

The pressure that had been weighing down his shoulders seemed to lift as he exhaled.

The knot in his chest loosened a little more as he let himself accept the unconditional comfort being offered.

After half a minute, he reluctantly stepped back. "I… I should go. I mean-"

Potter took a step back as well and stuffed his hands back in his pockets. "Yeah, of course… Yeah."

They stood there – one heartbeat, two heartbeat, three – before Draco broke eye contact and headed back up the stairs to the castle.

Draco took a deep breath before he pushed open the portrait hole of the Common Room.

He wasn't sure what reception he expected, he wasn't sure what reception he wanted, but he hoped nobody would make a fuss. He hated fuss.

Another bracing breath, and then he took that final step forward.

A ripple went through the room, but the people there barely paused to give him small smiles before going back to what they had been doing.

It was more than his entrance into the Common Room normally warranted, but it was far less than he had been dreading.

Blaise detached himself from his books and came over to clap him on the shoulder. "Dray. Welcome back."

Draco just nodded as he scanned the room again, searching.

"Umm... they seem calm?"

It came out like a question because even he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to say about not being mobbed or stared at when that was the thing he had been dreading.

Blaise grinned. "Pansy. Ever since we got your owl saying you were coming back today, she's been tutoring everyone on how to act, what to do and when to do it."

"Oh boy."

"Yeah. 'Woe betide anyone who crowds Draco at this critical time!' 'If he wants you fawning all over him and talking to him, he shall let you know!' 'I will personally pickle the bollocks of anyone...' etcetera etcetera..."

Draco groaned. He could hear Pansy in Blaise's near-perfect imitation.

He glanced around the room again, searching.

"Be grateful. She pulled out her most creative threats for you."

"Where is she?"

"Upstairs."

"Dray!"

Draco winced a little at the shriek and braced himself, grunting as Pansy cannoned into him.

Even though he had braced himself, he fell back a step.

"How goes, hag? I haven't been away that long."

Pansy just clung to him harder until he gave in and squeezed her in return.

Then she pulled back and scanned his face through eyes carefully made up to hide their puffiness.

Draco touched her cheek gently in silent gratitude, and she nodded before she stepped back, allowing him into his own room.

"Narcissa?"

"She's okay. She's stronger than all of us put together. She'll be fine."

She watched him in silence as he walked around her to drop his bag on the bed.

"I've missed you."

"I've only been gone a few days, Pans."

"I know, but it felt like a lot longer. Are you okay?"

Draco shrugged as he put away the few things he had brought with himself. "I don't know."

"Oh Dray."

Draco took a deep breath before he pushed open the door.

Another bracing breath before he took that final step into the room.

He glanced around the space, searching.

He bit his lip but decided there was nothing for it but to forge ahead. "Hello, Granger."

She looked up from the complicated looking Runes mapping chart she had spread on the table in front of her.

Draco blinked in surprise when she smiled at him.

"Malfoy. I'm so sorry about your father. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Draco swallowed the lump that lodged itself in his throat in the face of unexpected sympathy.

"That's fine, Granger. Thank you."

She smiled again and waited.

Draco tried to get his thoughts to focus. There had been a reason he'd marched up to Granger.

"Where is he?"

Her eyebrows arched in surprise, but she didn't pretend to misunderstand who he meant. "Not avoiding him any more then?"

Draco opened his mouth to explain, but the words got stuck on the way out. "I– "

Granger made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Never mind. It's not my place to ask." She glanced at her wrist watch. "He's probably in the owlry by now. He insists on spending time there after he's done exhausting himself from flying."

"Oh."

Granger looked up at Draco's expression.

"Hmmm. Maybe you'll have more luck talking him out of hanging out amongst the bird droppings? I worry he's obsessing over Hedwig again. She died protecting him, you know." She made a face. "And of course he's got a thing about people sacrificing themselves for him. As if he wouldn't do the same for them in a heartbeat! As if he hasn't done the same for them, a hundred times over…"

"I ... see."

Granger blinked, then waved her hand at him in a shooing motion. "Never you mind me and my chattering on. That's not the reason you're here. Go on, then. It might take you some time yet to even find him if he's not there."

There was a particular kind of painful joy in watching something from afar and yearning with his whole heart to have, have, have.

It was a peculiar kind of torture that thrilled and made him ache in weird ways.

And he ached.

He ached when he glimpsed messy hair.

He ached when he heard laughter just as he was turning a corner to get away.

He ached when he caught green eyes staring at him.

Staring, staring, staring, but never approaching.

Draco sighed as he halfheartedly lobbed another pebble into the lake and watched the ripples spread.

He had decided not to go looking for Potter again his first day back.

The next day, following Granger's instructions, he had almost gone in. He had been at the entrance of the owlry in fact. He had taken that last deep breath before breaching the entrance.

Yet, something had stopped him just as he had been about to take that final step into the room.

He wasn't sure what it was, and the more time that passed, the less clear it was why he was hesitating.

It wasn't because of his mother... She has been wonderfully, surprisingly supportive. More than anything he could have asked for.

He was ... hesitating. Because it all felt too much. Too big. Too real.

He could have this, if only he had the courage to reach out and take it.

But then again, courage had never been one of his strong suites.

"So... you coming down to the lake?"

Draco looked up at Blaise. "What's happening at the lake?"

"Potter's organized some kind of fair or carnival or extravaganza something. I'm expected to help at one of the booths."

Draco's eyebrows quirked. "And you're going?"

Blaise gave him a twisted grin, half grimace. "Well you know what he's like. He strong armed me into it ages ago, but I can skip if you want..."

"Let me guess. It's a massive undertaking, involving three different years of students and hundreds more galleons. Who pays for Potter's mad schemes is what I'd like to know."

Blaise just shrugged so Draco glanced at Pansy. "You volunteering too, Pans?"

"No, but I was thinking about attending. It could be fun..."

Draco sighed. "Okay."

Blaise and Pansy exchanged a glance. "Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Why not? Not like I have anything better to do right now."

Pansy squealed and jumped up to grab him around the waist. "Awesome! Let's fucking get outta here!"

A harried Sixth Year ran up to them as soon as they arrived at the edge of the Hogwarts Lake. "Blaise! Finally! We need you at the dunk tank. Somebody needs to relieve Ernie before he gets hypothermia."

Blaise grimaced, then grinned at them as he started walking backwards towards the far end of the lake. "Duty calls. See you later, you shits."

The Sixth Year scribbled something on her clipboard, then looked up at Pansy speculatively. "Do you think you could take a shift at the Kissing Booth? If someone doesn't relieve Ginny soon, she's liable to start hexing people."

Pansy laughed as she wove her arm through Draco's. "Not a chance, darling! You'll have to find someone else to deal with all those snot-nosed Third and Fourth Years."

The girl sighed, then brightened as she spotted someone walking past. "Parvati! Hold up a minute!"

Draco looked around, a little dazed.

There were rows of lanterns strung along the edges of the Lake, paced by stalls under colorful tents every few feet. Music floated on the air, not overpowering, but still there in the background.

The most overwhelming sound was the din of cheerful people.

Students walked, ran, skipped and staggered from each stall to the next. The professors that dotted the throng measured their paces much more sedately for looking no less cheerful.

The closest booth had an enthusiastic pie eating competition taking place.

The elder Weasley was at the next stall over, cackling as he dealt with the swarms of students clamoring to buy Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

The stall next to his was set up with some kind of maze where students were attempting to levitate small blocks into the right slots in order to complete the maze.

Next to that was a broad tent where house elves were distributing butter beers and spiced apple pies that he could smell even at this distance.

One booth over, a proud Hagrid seemed to be presiding over a petting zoo for a myriad of fluffy creatures.

Further along, there was a platform floating above a padded floor where two students were hitting each other with pillows, apparently with the sole objective of knocking the other off the platform, each being cheered on by a rowdy group of their friends.

There were shouts of "Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!" coming from a large group of boys gathered around a booth too far away for Draco to be able to see.

"When did he do all this?"

Pansy snorted as she gave his arm a tug to get him moving. "Potter went a little spare when you took away his extracurriculars."

Draco glanced at her sharply, but she just gave him a smirk.

"What? You have any idea the amount of time that boy spent stalking you and daydreaming about you? Not to mention the amount of time you two spent joined at the hip?"

Draco opened his mouth to say he didn't know what, but Pansy waved him off. "Upshot of all that angsting was that Granger got tired of watching him mope and lie about giving the world wounded looks and found him a new project to work on. And of course, Potter, being Potter, decided that everyone needed a piece of the action. Hence the madness..."

Draco followed the sweep of Pansy's arm as he again scanned the swirl of color and sound unfurling along the edges of the lake, doubled in the sparkling water.

Pansy tugged on his arm again, speeding up with purpose. "Come on. I want to see how Blaise is doing at the dunk tank."

"Dunk tank?"

"They set up a target. If you hit it dead center, it drops the person sitting in the booth into a vat of cold water, and you get to win a prize. Win, win!"

Draco shook his head a little as he allowed himself to be pulled along. Win, win indeed.

"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!"

Draco turned away from a sputtering and cursing Blaise to catch what was happening behind him.

Harry and Seamus appeared to be having a drinking competition, downing tankards of butter beer as fast as they could.

It was close, but Seamus slammed down his last tankard first to raucous cheering from everyone gathered around.

He cackled and did a victory dance before he grabbed the bucket lying on the table between him and Harry, tipping a cascade of water and ice chunks over Harry's head.

Harry shook his head violently, sending droplets everywhere as the girls around him shrieked and moved away.

He grinned and smoothed his hair off his face with both hands, which incidentally pulled his very wet t-shit tight across his chest, clearly outlining his pecs, the ripple of abs down his torso and the shadow of his happy trail.

For no reason that Draco could think of he found himself flushed and feverish and panting just a little bit.

It wasn't that Draco was hiding from him.

Or avoiding him exactly.

It was just ... every time he thought about getting up to go look for him, everything inside Draco shrank back from seeing the look in his eyes.

The one full of emotion that he could drown in if he let himself.

Draco gulped and licked his dry lips.

Harry had showed up at breakfast the day after the carnival, fair, fete, whatever, looking disheveled and rumpled and half asleep, and it was as if they had been magnets drawn to each other.

Draco's eyes had gone straight to his as he stood in the entrance of the Great Hall.

His eyes had gone straight to his, caught and held as he had watched emotions flicker through their green depths.

The immediate flair of delight whenever Harry spotted him. The softening into something tender as Harry no doubt imagined something painfully Gryffindorish like cuddling. The sharp focus when Harry actually took in Draco's expression in return. The hesitation as he paused for a second look.

Harry had broken eye contact then, glancing around the Hall before his gaze returned to Draco.

Draco didn't know what Harry had seen in his expression, but he had just given him a small smile and a nod before moving to sit with the younger Gryffindors at their table.

That in itself wasn't that unusual.

All of Harry's "projects" this year meant that he was often seen flitting about, sitting where he pleased in order to get up to whatever was the mischief of the day.

But... the year was nearly over, and most of the students had shifted their focus to year end exams.

It was unlikely there were any more projects Harry could fit in around the beginnings of exam panic and the mad revision cycles that were just starting.

Besides, Draco had been expecting almost a confrontation.

Well, not a confrontation exactly, but something.

Draco felt his cheeks flush a little as he sat there, getting lost in his own daydreaming without having touched his food.

Four days later, and Draco found himself again mentally trailing off every time he thought about... him.

This time over dinner.

Harry hadn't bothered to turn up for the meal. Again.

Draco wondered how he was surviving the lack of food.

But then again, the berk forgot to eat as often as not.

Draco almost wished he would show up already – at least that way he wouldn't find himself scanning the room involuntarily every few seconds for a familiar mop of messy hair or the flash of green eyes.

It was the tenderness which terrified him really.

The terrible, terrible tenderness in Harry's eyes as he had helped undress Draco that one time in the Room of Requirement, the reverence with which he had touched each new inch of skin that was revealed.

Draco couldn't ... he felt unequal to returning such strong emotion. He didn't think he could. He didn't think he had it in him.

He gulped as he sat there staring some more at the food he hadn't touched.

Now, however, he could maybe admit that he craved it.

He missed that power of emotion that always seemed to be spilling out of Harry wherever he went. Harry carried it in his orbit as he moved around.

At least, now he did.

It hadn't always been like that.

Harry had had something almost furtive about him when he had first arrived at Hogwarts, like he was guarding a secret, or hoarding food that could be snatched away at any moment.

Draco had watched that spine straighten and Harry's gait gain a relaxed confidence as he grew into his own over the years.

He had watched this year as Harry had moved around aimlessly in the beginning.

Still relaxed and lazily confident, but lacking his usual energetic purpose.

He had watched as that had changed little by little.

As he started smiling more, laughing more, sharing more of himself than before.

He had watched purpose return to his stride as he moved about the castle, forging intangible bonds between all and sundry with his stubborn single-mindedness that God damn it but winning the war would mean something, that it would change things.

If for no other reason than that Harry wouldn't let them be the same.

Draco sighed.

He missed him.

Damn it, he hadn't wanted to admit it.

He missed the speccy git.

As unequal as he felt to the task of dealing with the weight of the petrifying emotions in Harry's eyes, he still missed him.

Achingly.

Draco groaned, pushed away his plate and thumped his head down on the table.

"What do you think's wrong with him this time?"

"Nothing getting laid won't fix, darling."

Draco groaned again at the snickering that erupted around him.

Some friends. Traitors, the lot of them.

He missed Harry.

Damn it all to hell, he missed him.

He was lying on his bed, staring at the canopy, when Pansy arrived to keep him company.

She pulled and shoved and poked and prodded at him until she was stationed at the head of the bed with his head in her lap, but she didn't say anything.

Just started running her fingers gently through his hair as they both stared aimlessly out the window.

Something about the sensation of having someone run their fingers through his hair made his eyes fill involuntarily, and he turned to hide his face in her lap.

"It's been weeks since you got back, and besides mechanically going through the motions of attending classes, all you've done is stare at the ceiling or out your room window."

His voice sounded broken even to his own ears when he spoke. "Pans, I miss him."

"Well of course you do, love. He was your father."

The laugh that bubbled up got caught in his throat and mutated into a sob, and the hand in his hair paused.

"You complete and utter boob. You're talking about Potter."

There was a pause as Pansy waited for acknowledgement, but when Draco continued to lie there, not saying anything, she sighed and resumed stroking his hair.

"I'm guessing you haven't taken a close look at that boy ever since you got back. He's a mess. He was a mess for quite some time even before you left, but after we got back from the funeral, it was as if whatever small stubborn part of him had been holding on to any hope was finally snuffed out. He comes to the Great Hall, but he never eats. The carnival notwithstanding, he hasn't been conspiring with the other students at all – something he made a point to do every single day. I haven't heard him laugh properly or seen him smile genuinely or even smirk for weeks now. He looks like he hasn't slept in weeks either. Everyone's noticed, and nobody knows quite what to do."

Pansy sighed. "Whenever the whole school started to feel dreary and miserable, and we started to remember that the patch of stone where we were standing might have been where one of our friends was murdered, it was Potter who shone a light into the corners and chased away the demons. His quirky brand of madness with a side order of determined cheerfulness always, always worked because you could see that he wasn't just asking you to be cheerful or look for the little joys that were still left. You could tell that he believed, really believed with all his heart. And that made you want to believe too. That you wouldn't drown in the misery of every soul destroying thing you had witnessed. Of every miserable wretched thing you had done. That maybe it was a good thing after all that you had survived when so many others had not."

Draco lay very still, drinking in the words, not making a move in case Pansy stopped speaking.

"In a way, Potter was still the Savior. He was still saving people, every day. He just wasn't doing it by picking up a sword against a great big ugly brute. He was saving us with a different kind of magic." Pansy swallowed. "I've never sounded this much like a pussy-footed marshmallow before, but I kind of wanted to believe too, you know?"

She paused, and her hand in his hair stilled as she became lost in thought.

Draco's voice was very quiet when he spoke. "You can believe you know, Pans. You can believe."

Her fingers started working through the strands of his hair again.

"How do you believe when the person who was giving you hope, the person who was giving the whole fucking world hope, seems to have lost their own ability to believe? I mean it. It's like whatever light was shining inside him, the spark that just would not let that boy bloody well quit, just upped and left. And you know what the worst part is?"

This time she waited for his response. "What?"

"You're a boob because you don't have to miss him at all. He's there. He's always been there. Sure, he looks more like an empty husk of a person than he does a lad, but he's always been there, Dray. It's you who chose to leave, and it's you who'll have to choose to come back. It's always been your choice."

They stayed sitting like that for hours, Draco with his face hidden, and Pansy running her fingers through his hair, each lost in their own thoughts.

Choices. It always came down to choices.

Wasn't that what Potter had been trying to tell him since the beginning of the year? Albeit in his own dysfunctional way?

Wasn't that what his mother had tried to tell him?

They had fought a war so that their choices could be given back to them. So that they could be who they were, as they wished to be.

It was time to take ownership of those choices, and to finally, finally make some choices instead of running away.

Harry's head snapped backwards as the fist connected and his lip split open.

"Malfoy! The fuck-?"

"You had that coming, Potter! A First Year – a firstie! – just told me that we make a cute couple! A firstie!"

Harry snorted as he mopped at his lip with the back of his hand. "Did you make them cry?"

"Damn right I did. Imbeciles, all of them!"

Hermione finally snapped out of the dazed astonishment such behavior had inspired. "Malfoy! How dare you?! You can't blame Harry for something someone else did! And violence is never the answer! And making First Years cry!" She was almost sputtering in her indignation. "There is so much wrong with your behavior, I don't know where to start!"

Harry laughed softly as he took Malfoy's handkerchief off him and leaned against him while trying to clean up blood spatters with limited success.

Draco was busy glaring at Hermione.

"For your information, we are not a couple. The nerve of that firstie to presume to approach his superiors and with faulty information at that! They've had almost a year here; they should know better by now."

Hermione's eyes were wide as she tried to decide which part of that to pick on first.

Then they flicked towards Harry. He could see her protective instincts starting to assert themselves and decided to intervene before she got properly mad.

"Leave it, 'Mione. This is kind of how it is between us."

She was instantly frowning. "I don't care how it is between you. You get hurt enough as it is, Har. This just isn't acceptable behavior."

"'Mione. How many times do you think I've bloodied Malfoy just this year? I have some of this coming to me, and when it's not cool, I'm the first one to do something about it. Trust me to know the difference."

Hermione didn't stop frowning, but she took another look at the two of them, standing together. Malfoy with his arms crossed and chin tilted upwards, but not dislodging Harry where he was leaning against his shoulder.

She opened her mouth to comment, then sighed gustily and threw her hands up as she walked away. "Boys!"

Harry sighed too and leaned harder into Draco's side as they watched her walk away. "Hi to you too by the way."

Draco just snorted.

Draco watched askance out of the corner of his eye as Potter tongued at his lip and dabbed at it ineffectually yet again.

He huffed and dropped his arms. "Here, let me see."

Avoiding the green stare, he reached up, gentling clasping Potter's chin and turning his face this way and that to assess the damage.

Pulling out his wand, he murmured a soft spell under his breath and watched the cut lip seal itself.

Potter reached up and softly touched the back of the hand that was holding his face. "Thanks."

"Owlry?"

"Room of Requirement."

They stood there in silence, watching each other for a minute.

Then Harry smiled and moved forward with purpose. He pushed Draco into the wingback chair he was standing in front of.

Draco's eyes widened when Harry pulled out his wand, but he didn't move or protest.

Harry transfigured the wingback chair such that the front half was the length of a chaise lounge so Draco still had something to lean on as his legs stretched out in front of him.

Tranfiguration spells tended to not work as well for him outside of the Room of Requirement, and he suspected that the magic of the Room was helping him get what he wanted.

Harry sighed, satisfied with the chair, dropped his want next to it, and simply climbed into the chair with Draco, situating himself with his back to Draco's chest, pulling Draco's arms around him and turning his head until his forehead rested against the side of Draco's neck.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell.

Citrus and lavender and warmth.

It felt like coming home.

He nearly sobbed.

He had thought he'd lost this. Nearly resigned himself to the idea that maybe this was another one of those things he wouldn't be allowed to have.

He could feel the heaviness in his arms and legs pulling at him.

He was just so tired.

It had literally been days since he had stopped moving.

He was weary and the exhaustion of having to get up and move, move, move every day had him strung out tighter than piano wire.

He could feel all the knots in his back coming undone as Draco's warmth soaked into him, filling up all the broken corners and cracks, and Harry felt like he could finally, finally relax.

That if he let himself fall, there would be someone there to catch him, to cushion his fall.

He was home.

He didn't know when he had started thinking about Draco as home, but… He was here, and he was letting Harry lean on him. That's all that really counted.

"Hi."

Harry felt Draco take a deep breath in response, Harry's form on his chest rising with him as he inhaled, and involuntarily, Harry tightened his hold on Draco.

"Potter, everything I said in the Great Hall that day..."

"Hush. I know..."

"I still... I – I still need you to know I didn't mean any of that... that I'm... I'm sorry I said it in the first place."

Harry blinked his eyes open, then turned so Draco could see his face.

His touch was soft as he caressed Draco's cheek, traced the outline of his lips. "Thank you."

Draco swallowed and ducked his head.

"I couldn't ask you to choose. She's your mum – and with your dad gone, I just ... I don't know. Is there reason to hope?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Potter smiled and closed his eyes again, settling his head in the crook of Draco's shoulder.

He didn't remember falling asleep.

He'd fallen asleep.

The stupid berk had fallen asleep between one breath and the next.

Draco had felt it when his shoulders slackened, his breathing evened out, and he somehow grew warmer still in Draco's embrace.

They had been sitting there for barely five minutes.

Draco shifted a little until he found a more comfortable spot, and wrapped his arms more completely around Potter.

Potter made a soft breathy sound under his breath when Draco moved – a soft Annhh that clutched at Draco's chest a little – before he settled back into stillness, his messy locks teasing Draco's cheek.

Draco wondered when the last time was that Potter had gotten any sleep.

He wondered what it really meant that Harry would fall asleep so fast and so completely as soon as he stopped moving. He had to have been exhausted – beyond exhaustion even.

Gently, carefully, Draco hugged Potter to himself, something inside him feeling suddenly, fiercely protective of Harry.

Potter,

Mother keeps harassing me about whether you've responded to her invitation to tea.

Hence, this is me formally requesting the pleasure of your company at tea at a time yet to be determined. I must warn you that the tea shall be at Malfoy Manor, should you choose to accept the invitation.

Regards,

Draco Malfoy

Harry smiled as he fingered the parchment in his hand.

The formal language practically screamed Draco's discomfort. He probably hadn't been able to figure out how to ask Harry in person and so was resorting to letter writing.

Harry thought about it for half a second and then made a decision.

This time, no one was going to stop him from going to Malfoy Manor. Not to mention, he didn't have to worry about ruining any big family Christmas dinners with his insistence that he wanted to visit his sort-of definitely boyfriend's mother.

With a grin, he reached for a clean piece of parchment to pen his response.

Potter,

If I find out you've stolen my Slytherin scarf again, there shall be consequences.

~Draco Malfoy

"Mmmmm, no moving."

Draco deliberately huffed as Harry pinned him more firmly and returned his ear to where it had been pressed to Draco's chest before Draco'd stretched to get a book out of his bag.

"Potter. We're meant to be revising. Not to mention this reading position is terrible for my posture."

Harry smiled as he listened to the rumble of Draco's voice in his chest as a counter-point to his heartbeat.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. Three-

Draco huffed again when Harry didn't respond, and propped his notebook against the back of Harry's head to continue reading as he had been since Harry had prodded him into this prone position where Harry could press his ear to his chest.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. Three-

"Potter, I need to get my-"

"Shhh… I'm listening."

"To what?!"

"Your heartbeat."

There was a pause. Then, Draco very deliberately turned the page of his notebook without saying anything, but he didn't move to get whatever he had wanted either.

Harry closed his eyes. He was learning the cadences of Draco's heart. The quick rub-a-dub-dub at Harry's words just now. The steady thump-dub-thump-dub-thump-dub when Draco's heartbeat settled as he went back to revising. The softer, slower lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub of Draco falling asleep.

Dear blondie, When we kiss... Magic happens! That's how I know magic is real ;) -H.

Draco hummed deep in his throat as he carded his fingers through soft obsidian hair.

"You do know that if we do this, there are going to be rules."

"Rules?"

"Rules."

"Knowing my history with rules, sure you want to risk it?"

"Rules, Potter, or else."

Harry laughed softly under his breath as he leaned forward, "I can live with rules."

The last thing Draco saw as their lips touched was the warmth in green, green eyes as they fell shut.

Potter,

You're a dork.

~Draco.

Draco was almost as excited as Pansy had to be.

He hurried down to the Quidditch pitch and made a beeline for the broom shed where he knew Pansy would be hiding while she sunned the crystal for its requisite four hours a day.

Of course, she was excited because the Geemian Scrying Crystal was said to be one of the most powerful artefacts that one could use in the study of Divination.

Draco couldn't give a damn about whether it could tell him his future or not.

He was content to discover that as it unfolded.

But he was itching to see it regardless.

Called a crystal for tradition's sake, it was more a sculpture - one of the rarer artefacts in the Magical world and considered one of the most beautiful.

Rare not because there was such limited demand for it, because honestly, many would have liked one just for its beauty, but rather, rare because of how difficult it was to create one, with its lattice of delicate glass, teased into hair thin strands that were arranged to encase gems in a complicated, very specific pattern.

Almost a work of art in and of itself, the addition of exquisitely cut diamonds and emeralds made it exorbitant.

He still had no idea how Pansy had guilted her parents into buying her one. It was worth a small fortune and had a waiting list a mile long.

As it was, he and Pansy had been waiting a month for it to arrive.

Draco rounded the corner and squinted as reflected sunlight glinted in his eyes.

"Draco! Come see! It's FUCKING GORGEOUS!"

Draco grinned and drew closer, looking down at the delicate glass that seemed to pulse with living energy, light scattering from it in all directions.

"It is glorious."

Pansy smirked in satisfaction. "I know. You won't believe the trouble I had to go through to get one this perfect either."

Draco returned the smirk with one of his own. "Oh, I believe you."

He looked at the crystal again, drawn to how the glass strands seemed to flow like waves of light as they bent and looped back on themselves in endless continuity. "Let me hold it?"

Pansy hesitated.

"Come on. I'll be careful, promise."

She bit her lip, then nodded, moving towards him.

Draco gently cupped his hands under hers, waiting for her to slide hers away, their heads close together as they watched the glow that emanated from the gems.

Just as Pansy started to slide her hands away, something struck Draco in the middle of his back.

Hard.

He cried out as he lurched forward, instinctively trying to shield the crystal by caging his hands around it.

Pansy gasped as he bowled her over.

Her hands trapped between his, neither willing to risk the crystal by letting go, she landed on her back with Draco sprawled on top of her.

Pansy groaned.

"Damn. Pans, you okay?"

"I will be once you get the fuck off me."

Draco grimaced, then got his knees under him so that he was straddling her rather than resting all his weight on her.

Just then someone sauntered around the corner of the shed, holding a broom. "Hey, you see a quaffle that-"

As Draco raised his head, Macmillan's voice died when he realized who he was addressing. "Holy fuck! Malfoy? And Parkinson? Harry is going to kill you when he finds out. Shit!"

He spun on his heal and disappeared back around the corner, the quaffle forgotten.

"Fuck!" Draco sat up, carefully releasing Pansy's hands, making sure she had the crystal and was in no danger of dropping it.

Then he got to his feet and helped her up.

"Come on, hand me the box. We have to stop that shit before he gets to Potter."

Draco picked up the safe box the crystal had arrived in and held it for Pansy as she carefully replaced it in its protective packing.

He gulped at the thought of Macmillan carrying this little tit bit to Potter.

"Where is he?"

"Common Room."

His guts twisted as a litany of cursing started in his head.

Any way he explained this, it wouldn't look good.

As the box clicked shut and the protective spells on it activated, Pansy quickly shoved it into her satchel and grabbed Draco's arm. "Let's go!"

His sides were burning by the time they reached the Eighth Year Common Room portrait.

As Pansy gasped out the password and the door swung ajar a little way, he stopped her before she could swing it open completely.

They'd headed for the Common Room at a dead-run, but he could hear Macmillan's irritating whine already and knew it hadn't been enough.

"But Harry, I'm telling you what I saw."

"And I'm telling you it wasn't him."

Draco and Pansy glanced at each other, startled.

Then they pushed the portrait hole open just enough to allow them to peek inside.

Potter was sitting at his usual table, near the fire, but not right next to it, seated cross-legged on the floor, his papers and texts spread out around him in his customary haphazard manner.

He was writing calmly, not paying attention to anything but the scroll in front of him while Macmillan knelt opposite him, leaning forward on the table, wringing his hands.

"Harry, you have to believe me! It was Malfoy getting off with Parkinson." Draco winced as Potter's quill hand jerked. "I saw them behind the broom shed on the Quidditch pitch!"

Potter sighed and reached for a blotting paper without once looking at Macmillan.

"Wasn't him."

He raised his hand when Macmillan opened his mouth to protest again.

"I have it on very good authority that Malfoy is gay. Much like myself. So you'll forgive me if I'm skeptical of anything that involves him getting off with Parkinson."

Then Potter looked up at the far wall, a thoughtful gleam in his eye. "Now Zabini... Oh, the possibilities."

Draco's jaw clenched even as he heard Pansy grinding her teeth next to him.

Then Potter shook his head and picked up his quill again. "But Parkinson - don't believe it."

The other students in the Common Room pretending they weren't devouring every single word of this conversation all exchanged looks.

Macmillan wrung his hands again, looking helpless.

Draco was just about to step into the room when Boot spoke up. "Harry, mate, I hear you, but still... if Ernie says he saw them, you at least have to consider it. I mean... it's Malfoy."

"Exactly! He'd never."

Macmillan growled in frustration. "Come on, Harry! I know he's gay and all but-"

"Not what I meant." For the first time, there was a bit of steel in Potter's voice though he still hadn't bothered to look up. "Sure, he's gay. But even if you'd said he was getting off with Zabini, I wouldn't believe you because it's Malfoy. He would never."

Draco gulped, his heart pounding, warmth settling in his chest, his cheeks pink.

Pansy reached out and squeezed his hand.

Boot and Macmillan exchanged a look. "Harry, mate, that's-"

Potter interrupted with a noisy sigh. "Look. I get it. You don't trust him. He's made some really shit choices over the years. He was part of the Shit Eaters club. Whatever. I've heard it all before. But you have to admit, Malfoy's always, always been honorable - even when he gave his loyalty to things I really rather he didn't. So what you think you saw aside, I think I'll wait for Malfoy's version of things, thanks."

Macmillan threw his hands up. "Harry! Pansy's a self-serving hag and Malfoy-"

For the first time Potter looked Macmillan straight in the eye, who choked on his own spit.

"Yes?" As soft as Harry's voice was, there was no mistaking the menace in it.

Macmillan gulped twice before he managed to find his voice.

Even then it came out two octaves higher than usual when Harry continued to stare at him with his steady gaze.

"Harry, all I'm saying - really - I-I mean... You just trust too easily! That's what I mean!"

"You should be glad I trust as easily as I do." His eyes narrowed and suddenly there were the flames of a burning anger dancing in them.

Macmillan jumped back involuntarily and the rest of the gossiping students hushed.

"Because honestly, I'm trusting that you're just trying to be a good friend rather than hexing you as was my first impulse. You should be ashamed, spreading that shit around."

Macmillan gulped, then quickly scrambled to his feet, eyeing Potter nervously. "Right. I- I'll just go then. Umm-" He turned and rushed up the dorm stairs.

Potter turned that burning gaze on the rest of the room. "Any one got anything else to add?"

Everywhere he turned, people dropped their eyes, going back to working or playing chess or gossiping or swapping Chocolate Frog cards.

The silence dropped away into the quiet murmur that was normal for the Common Room.

Draco took a deep breath, in through his nose, exhaling through his mouth.

He squeezed Pansy's hand before dropping it.

Then he swung the portrait hole open the rest of the way and marched over to where Potter was sitting, watching as he looked up and that damnable smile of his whenever he saw Draco lit up his eyes and tugged his lips upwards.

"He-" He interrupted himself on a breath as Draco straddled his lap.

He blinked then looked up at Draco, his smile turning shy. "What-?"

This time Draco interrupted, sealing Potter's lips with his own, cradling his face in his hands, the gossiping public watching them be damned.

Potter - no, Harry - he had earned the right to be called that - Harry trusted him.

More than that, he trusted him without question.

He'd known Macmillan, even Boot as long as he'd known Draco, except he'd been on much better relations with them for much, much longer.

He'd still refused to believe that Draco would betray him.

Refused to believe it point blank.

He thought Draco was honorable.

What's more, he wasn't willing to let anyone say otherwise.

Harry didn't know it yet, but there wasn't much Draco would refuse him for that trust.

He'd granted more to others for far less in fact, but no one had earned the right to his regard quite as thoroughly as Potter had. As Harry had.

Coming up for air, he rested his forehead against Harry's, softly caressing his cheeks with his thumbs as Harry blinked back at him with slightly dazed eyes.

"Hi."

Draco smiled even as he rolled his eyes. "Hello to you too… Harry."

Harry's eyes widened a little even as light started gathering in their depths.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. Three-

Then Harry grinned, tightened his hold on Draco's robes at his flanks and arched upwards to plant an open-mouthed kiss on Draco's lips.

"What brought this on?" He pulled Draco closer by yanking slightly at his robes. "Not that I disapprove, mind. But what happened to the rules? What happened to there will be no public displays of affection, Potter - of ANY kind. Ever!?"

Draco's lips quirked at this passing-fair imitation. "A bloke can change his mind, can't he?"

Harry laughed softly, wrapping his arms loosely around Draco's waist. "Yes. Yes, he can."

Then he arched up for another kiss, and Draco met him gladly.

Dear Harry,

Imagine me hugging you. Picnic lunch today?

x

~D.

A/N: Oh my Gosh! It's done! It's finally finished! *Happy dance!*

Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of you who stuck it out this long for this fic.. It wouldn't have been possible without your love, patience and awesome support! :)

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xoxo