It had been two days since Harry told Draco about the Siren's song. Two days since Draco had told him to leave the infirmary. Two days since Madam Pomfrey had informed Harry that Draco did not wish to see him. And in all that time, no song.

Each morning felt hollow. Harry felt as if someone had scooped out his insides like one does to a pumpkin before resigning it to the fate of being a Jack-o-lantern. An empty shell. A smile plastered on it's face with a light that barely flickers anymore.

No matter what Harry tried, he couldn't get the song out of his head. He couldn't make himself stop going to the seventh floor corridor in the mornings. He hoped against hope that somehow Draco's memories would be triggered and he would be there. That he would be playing the song. That he would love Harry back.

But nothing. Not even dreams. Not even nightmares. When Harry slept now, all he saw was blackness. So, Harry had avoided sleep the way one avoids writing a length of parchment about the effects of Valerian root.

The Great Hall was bustling with noise. It was the morning of the talent show. Not that it mattered anymore. Not to Harry anyway. Nothing really mattered anymore. Not when Draco was ignoring him.

The blond sat at the Slytherin table with Pansy who made eye contact with Harry as he entered the hall and proceeded to wince in a way that said 'sorry, I tried to reason with him.' It was all sympathy, but Harry still felt like he wanted to yell at her because she was Draco's confidant. Pansy got to sit with Draco and put her hand on Draco's arm when he laughed. She got to listen to him drawl on about how laborious potions class was now that Snape was gone.

Harry wanted to be that person for Draco.

"Hey, Harry!" Ron called, snapping Harry out of his jealousy.

"Morning," was all Harry could manage. His stomach was turning. His head hurt and he felt like he hadn't slept in years.

"Talent shows tonight," Ron said.

"So?" Harry answered and got a hard jab in the ribs from Hermione who had just sat down next to him on the bench, "What was that for?"

"For being such a dunderhead," Hermione said.

"I'm a what?"

"Dunderhead."

"And why, might I ask, are you calling me names?"

"Because you won't go talk to him. No, instead you will sit here and pine at him from across the Great Hall."

"He said he didn't want to see me, or don't you remember?"

"Like that had ever stopped you from doing what you want?"

"This is different."

"Is it, mate?" Ron added. "Seems like it is like every other situation in you life. Someone tells you not to do something. You do it. Usually, it ends happily. Why should now be any different?"

"Because if he rejects me, I don't think I could take it," Harry said and his voice was a whisper. He was desperately trying to avoid crying, yet again, for what felt like the millionth time this month.

"Oh, Harry, I am sure that isn't true," Hermione's hand was on his shoulder now and he was sure he was about to loose it when the hall erupted in chatter so loud, Harry couldn't ignore it. When he searched the hall for the source of the commotion, Harry's eyes were met again by Pansy. The girl was looking up while holding a shaking, unconscious Draco in her arms.

Harry didn't hesitate. He was up and across the hall so quickly that he shocked Pansy who was crying now and mumbling something. Harry promptly ignored her and cast a hovering charm so he could get Draco out of the Great Hall and up to Madam Pomfrey. As he waded through a sea of people, he could hear Hermione shouting, "Give him some room," and he was sure she cast a Sonorus charm because it felt like her voice was everywhere in the Great Hall.

Once outside of the hall, Hermione, Ron, and Pansy had caught up with him and all cast hovering charms as well to help Harry get Draco to the infirmary. Pansy was still crying, but she managed to keep her charm strong.

Madam Pomfrey looked shocked to see Draco back and in such a state. She went straight for the healing potions as everyone else lowered him into an empty bed. Pansy backed away and Harry watched her face go pale. She was shaking almost as much as Draco had been shaking. Hermione and Ron only stood off to the side, both unsure of how to proceed, so Harry decided to take action.

"Pansy, you all right?" Harry asked.

"I'm…is he? Oh, Merlin what is happening, Harry?" Pansy's voice was all concern and Harry was torn between comforting her and yelling at her for thinking she was the one who was most concerned about Draco.

"Did he say anything before?" Harry asked.

"He…well, he did, but it wasn't him," Pansy said.

"What do you mean? That makes no sense," Harry's annoyance noticeable in his voice.

"Draco said it, but it wasn't his voice, okay?"

"Well, what was said?"

"Until the souls unite, one will rest, one will fight," Pansy's voice was shaking, but she continued on, "and then he screamed before his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out."

"Bloody hell," Ron's voice broke in and Harry could see Hermione out of the corner of his eye. She was looking over Draco as Madam Pomfrey administered the potions. Her brow was furrowed and her lips pursed. Harry knew that look. That was the 'I think I know something clever' look. Harry was so happy to see that look. He thought he would have a cry for being so relieved at his best mates sheer brilliance.

"I know that look, 'Mione, what is it?" Harry asked.

"Well, if this isn't a symptom of the Dreamless Sleep?" Hermione paused and looked at Madam Pomfrey who nodded that it was not a cause of the Dreamless Sleep, so she continued, "Then it has to be a side-effect of the Siren's Song."

"Like me not being able to catch up to him in the dreams?" Harry asked.

"Yes, like that. What is it he said again, Pansy?" Hermione asked.

"Until the souls unite, one will rest, one will fight."

"One will rest, one will fight? What is does that mean?" Ron asked the question before Harry had the chance.

"I am not sure. I need a book," Hermione said and spun around on her heels so quickly, it shocked Harry and Ron both. She was out the doors before anyone could say a word.

Finally, Ron spoke, "I think I'll go find her. I will let you know what we find, yeah?" Ron patted Harry on the arm, a gesture that was supposed to be comforting, but only came across like a condolence. Harry gave him a weak half-smile as a response and the red-head stalked out of the room in search of Hermione.

"Are you bloody well going to tell me what in Merlin's name is going on here? Or do I have to hex you, Potter?" Pansy's voice was venom now. Her tears had stopped and she sat composed on an empty bed next to Draco's. Madam Pomfrey pulled the curtain shut around her and Draco, so she could continue her diagnosis spells in peace.

"I, erm, what do you mean?" Harry decided to play dumb.

"Don't play dumb, Potter."

"He didn't say?"

"Obviously, no, he didn't, or else I wouldn't be asking you. Would I?"

"I suppose not."

"Out with it."

"You two are very much alike, you know? You and him."

"I know. It's what makes us such good friends. Now, stop stalling and tell me what the hell is happening to him."

"The Siren's song, did he mention it?"

"No, I only just heard it now when you Granger and Weasley were chattering on."

"It's a spell, sort of, a song that is supposed to bring lost warriors back to their souls."

"I thought Siren's were the witches who made sailor's crash?" Pansy asked and Harry realized she really didn't know what was going on. Draco hadn't told her and Harry wasn't sure whether that was a good sign or a bad sign. Without further hesitation, Harry regaled the entire tale from the first time he heard the song, up until he found Draco screaming in his bed two days ago. Pansy's eyes were locked on Harry as he spoke. She never wavered. She never changed her face. Not to show shock. Not even to show interest. By the end of the tale, Harry was out of breath and Pansy was still looking at him.

"Well?" Harry asked.

"He never said."

"What was his reason for avoiding me?"

"He claimed he was embarrassed that you had seen him weak and wanted to recover properly before talking to you."

"Rubbish. He doesn't want to talk to me because he doesn't want to admit I'm right."

"And you…you think it's all true?"

"I know it is. I feel it like a burning in my body. I feel it trying to break free. It is real."

"You love him then?"

"Yeah."

"And you think he loves you?"

"He is the one the song came to, so that means he was the lost one. That means he was, whether consciously or unconsciously, asking for the song to lead him to his soulmate."

"He won't admit it," Pansy said the words that Harry had already feared were true, but before he could respond, Madam Pomfrey was opening the curtain, head hung low.

"Is he?" Harry asked.

"He won't wake up. Nothing is working. He is in perfect health, but he won't wake up," Madam Pomfrey's words hung heavy in the air like humidity before it rains.

"He's in a coma?" Pansy asked and Madam Pomfrey nodded, so Pansy continued, "Will he wake up?"

"I am not sure, dear," Madam Pomfrey said and just like that Pansy was crying again and Harry felt the overwhelming urge to leave the infirmary for fear that one of two things might happen; that he would yell at Pansy, or he would kiss Draco and hope that all those sodding Disney movies Dudley watched as a child were right about true loves kiss. Both would open up doors to things he was not ready to deal with, so he stood slowly and made his way out of the infirmary.

The castle was all noise and gossip. Of course everyone was talking about Draco and the scene in the Great Hall, but it seems everyone was also gossiping about the mystery player and 'H.' Harry almost felt sorry that the people wouldn't get to see the mysterious IT couple reveal themselves. He was sure everyone would be disappointed, as it was all that the Hogwarts students could talk about for two weeks.

Hell, it was all Harry had talked about for two weeks. And now he knew. He knew his mystery player and that person was Draco Malfoy who was now in a coma. A coma that Harry needed to fix, if only he had the slightest inkling how to do it. Hermione was nose deep in books, Ron was owling his dad to see if the Ministry had any clues, but all in all, they had a big pile of nothing. Well, not nothing. There was the creepy message Draco spoke right before going comatose. Harry kept playing it over in his head, hoping it would make sense.

Until the souls unite, one will rest, one will fight.

Harry felt the first part was rather obvious. He and Draco needed to acknowledge their love for the coma to stop, which Harry felt might prove to be a bit harder seeing as Draco was unconscious. But the second part, that's what bothered him. The idea of prophecy made Harry weary, especially after Voldemort. So when the "fight" part of the rhyme popped up, all Harry could think was: Great, fight, I get to fight something. How wonderfully typical. Because clearly Draco was the one who was resting, if one could call a coma rest. But it seemed to make the most sense to Harry. It was the fight that worried him. He worried he wouldn't be able to win, or that the fight would come and go and Harry would miss it somehow. After all, he had no idea what he was looking for, no one did for that matter.

All, Harry knew was he needed to wake Draco up. He needed Draco, period. How odd to think it, but Harry knew it was true and that is why he would fight. He would fight anything if it meant Draco would wake up. Harry just hoped it would happen soon. Without Draco, without the song, Harry felt like he was deteriorating. He felt like the most inner pieces of his soul were crumbling like the old ruins of Greece or Rome.

"Got anything yet?" Harry asked, bursting into the infirmary where Hermione and Ron had set up with their books. He spared a cursory glance at Draco's bed. The pale blond was peaceful as ever. Eyes closed. Chest rising, slowly. Lips pink and pouting, even in his comatose state Draco had the ability to be sickeningly gorgeous.

"I think. Maybe. There was a case similar to this one. It was over 70 years ago, but one of the people was in a coma like Draco. The only catch is the 'fight' is different for everyone. It manifests itself based off of the relationship of the soulmates," Hermione said.

"Great," Harry said, "Does it at least say when the fight will appear? I don't want to miss it."

"Thing is, Harry, I don't think it is you who will fight."

"Sorry?" Pansy's voice rang from behind Harry. Apparently she had snuck in while Harry wasn't paying attention.

"Well, since Draco was playing the song, it means he was the lost warrior and typically, that is the person who endures the fight."

"How can that be when he is so clearly the one resting, huh?" Harry was irritated now.

"I don't know, Harry. I'm sorry," Hermione was crestfallen. It was rare for her to say those words and Harry felt like Hermione's pride was a bit wounded. He patted his friends arm because he did appreciate everything she was doing.

"We should all take a break," Ron said and was met with glares from Harry, Hermione, and Pansy, but he continued on, "It's just we have all been at this for an entire day. Maybe if we take a break and come back with fresh eyes, then we will figure it out?"

"Ron's right," it was Pansy who spoke which Harry was not expecting because it seemed she wanted to wake Draco up almost as much as Harry did and well, that was quite a lot.

"You…how can you say that? We need to work," Harry whine much like a child.

"No, Harry they are right. A break will do all of us some good. You look as if you need twenty years of sleep," Hermione said.

"Why don't we go down to the talent show? There's food?" Ron said and gave Harry his most convincing half-smile and Harry smiled back in spite of himself because Ron was his best mate and because Ron was right.

"Yes, fine. I could eat," Harry said and they all got up and walked toward the infirmary's exit. Before walking out, Harry looked back and saw Draco's chest rising, slowly. His pale skin glowing in the moonlight that was now shining in through the windows. Draco was beautiful. Harry was certain that he must have been blind all these years to not notice.

The Great Hall was packed. Everyone from every house was present. All the professors. Even Filch was in attendance. The ceiling was bewitched too look like there were balloons and streamers and falling confetti. It was quite the sight.

The spot where the professors normally sat at their long table was transfigured into a small stage. There were velvet curtains hanging in the front of the stage. The food was along one wall, buffet style and it smelled amazing. It smelled like the most amazing food in the universe and Harry made his way over the buffet, leaving some of his cares behind, at least until he shoved and ungodly amount of food into his mouth.

All of a sudden, the lights went dim and Professor McGonagall's voice could be heard above all the idol chatter. "Greetings students, to Hogwarts first talent show!" Applause. "Yes, yes, all right, we have a variety of talents tonight," more applause, "Yes, quiet, first up is Harlan Warren playing the…lute. Yes, let's give it up for him!"

Hermione was at Harry's hip now, "The lute? That cheeky bastard. I was going to play the lute."

"Why aren't you?" Harry asked.

"Pulled out when all the Draco stuff started. I wanted to be there for you."

"Hermione, you absolute sap," Harry said and smiled at Hermione before putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a hug. After a few minutes of, what Harry decided was terrible lute playing, Ron and Pansy made their way over to where Harry and Hermione were sitting. All four of them were now obscenely full.

A few more people played instruments. Some did magic tricks, the muggle kind and the real kind. Some people told jokes. Some people danced. It was very entertaining and Harry could feel himself relaxing. His fists unclenching. His shoulders slouching. It was like he was breathing new air, clean air.

"Next up, a late entry," McGonagall's voice carried over the chatter once more, "He has asked that I don't say his name, or open the curtains right away, so here he is."

From behind the curtain, a quiet noise came that sounded like the first note of his song. But it couldn't be. Draco was in a coma. Harry decided he must be hearing things. But then the next note came ringing out from behind the curtains and the hair on Harry's neck stood up. Then all at once the melody was flowing out from behind the curtains, just as sad, just as soft, just as delicate as it always had been.

Harry was on his feet now. He was standing on tip-toe to see the stage. Hermione was tugging at his arm and Pansy was saying something he couldn't hear. All he could do was stand transfixed on the stage as the music echoed inside of him.

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry was pushing through the crowd of students toward the stage. He needed to see behind that curtain. The music. It was his. It was speaking to his soul. Pulling him in.

He reached the stage and cast a glamour so no one would notice him slipping behind stage. When he reached his destination, a tall, skinny blond was sitting hunched over the piano pouring himself into the piano, into the music. It was beautiful. It was life changing. Harry felt something in him open up, something that was full of desire, and because of that he had to touch Draco. Just to know he was really there.

So, Harry walked over to the piano and reached his hand out, placing it on Draco's shoulder. The man froze. The music stopped. The crowd of students began shouting and talking about why the music had stopped.

Draco spun around on the piano stool and looked Harry in the eyes for the first time in days. The man's gray eyes were pleading with Harry, though Harry didn't know for what. In lieu of speaking, Harry placed his free hand on Draco's cheek. Draco jumped at the touch, but then he leaned into it. And Harry felt that hole in him close, the one that had been tearing open wider each day since the music stopped.

Then like a tidal wave, their lips came crashing together. Harry leaned over while Draco stayed seated on the piano bench. Their lips were warm against each other and Harry felt his stomach burning and felt his face flush, but he kept kissing Draco. Kept letting Draco tangle his hands in his hair. Kept letting Draco tug him down, until he was straddling his lap just like Harry had fantasized about.

With this newfound position, Harry was able to pull Draco in deeper. He was able to slip his tongue into Draco's mouth playfully and was met with quiet moans from Draco. The noise only served to make Harry kiss back harder.

The world seemed to slip away with every second Harry breathed in Draco's sweet breath. He was melting into Draco. Their chests were almost flush against each other and Harry could feel Draco's heart beating against him.

Draco untangled his fingers from Harry's hair and then let them slid playfully down the arch of his back, stopping at his hips. Harry let his hands fall from Draco's face and wrapped them around the man's neck instead, so he could control the kiss.

Just as he was about to pull away from the warm sanctuary of Draco's lips in an effort to kiss along the man's jawline, Harry heard a voice shouting his name.

"Mister Potter! Mister Malfoy!" McGonagall's voice echoed and both Harry and Draco froze. Harry still astride Draco's lap, turned to face the spot where the velvet curtain had been, only to be faced with the entire student body of Hogwarts looking at him now.

"Professor, this, uh, isn't what it looks like?" Harry tried to play dumb, again, because it was he default defense.

"Oh, I am sure you astride Mister Malfoy is completely innocent then?" Professor McGonagall said and as she did, Harry heard a quiet 'oooooo' rise from the hoard of students who were all standing on tables to get a better look at the stage. Finally, Harry realized he was still on Draco's lap and quickly stood up and Draco followed suit. McGonagall gestured for the boys to follow her off stage and as they did, someone else took the stage and started to tap dance.

Following McGonagall out of the Great Hall proved to be difficult seeing as every student wanted to get a look at the IT couple and most of them had taken to whistling, winking, and saying things like 'Yeah, get it, Potter' or 'Damn Malfoy, didn't know you had it in you.' And of course, Hermione, Ron, and Pansy tried following, but McGonagall gave them the most stern look Harry had ever seen and so, they stayed put.

Outside the Great Hall, McGonagall finally turned to face the Harry and Draco, "Mister Malfoy, I am glad to see that you have awoken from your coma, feeling better I trust?"

"I, uh," Draco looked completely bewildered and blushed, "yes, I am fine, Professor."

"Good, then you won't mind explaining to me exactly what that display of affection was all about? Seems you all have been leaving out a few details of Mister Malfoy's maladies, yes?"

"Well, see Professor, it's like this…" Harry dived into the explanation before Draco could and by the time he was finished, Draco was blushing again and Professor McGonagall was smirking in a very knowing way.

"Ah, then I will leave you boys to it," Professor McGonagall said and quickly transfigured into a cat and pranced back to the Great Hall.

After making sure that McGonagall had in fact left them alone, Draco spoke, "Harry, I…"

"No, don't," Harry whispered and moved in slowly to kiss Draco. He tentatively placed a hand on Draco's cheek and leaned in, eyes open, watching Draco. The blond had closed his eyes and was leaning in as well, so Harry went for it and this kiss was even more soothing than the first had been.

It was like every unanswered question was being answered with Draco's lips. And Harry knew his life was all the more for having Draco in it. And he also knew that he was never letting Draco go, never.