Nervously, Harry watched the hourglass in the corner of the transfiguration classroom. It was almost empty. Transfiguration. That was the last class of the day. Then it would be dinnertime. And then it was time to meet Malfoy. It was silly, really. To be so worked up to see someone he saw everyday. But it wasn't exactly the same person, was it? They had their similarities, of course, but the something had seemed different about the Malfoy who invited, or rather demanded, that Harry kiss him again.

Trying to bite down the grin forming on his lips, he thought back to the note he'd received that morning, delivered by a rather grumpy owl that left no question who the sender could be.

Potter,

I'll be on the astronomy tower tonight at 12:30 sharp.

-D.M

It was a simple message, looking for all the world as if Malfoy was utterly bored of the situation before it had even began. But Harry knew better. It was a letter of possibilities and Harry was determined to take hold of every one he could. The owl had gone out of its way to nip Harry's ear on its depart, and he couldn't help but wonder if it had been instructed to. Regardless, it had not been able to dampen Harry's good mood. A good mood that had gotten him through the day with a spring in his step that he desperately tried to hide from Ron and Hermione.

A good mood that had done its own transfiguring into a nasty ball of nerves in the pit of his stomach.

Harry tapped his toe anxiously as he watched the sand fall, Mcgonagall's ignored lecture wrapping into a conclusion that had Hermione scribbling furiously with her quill.

What if he wasn't any good at kissing? None of their other kisses had lasted more than a few seconds. What if Malfoy wanted an...extended version? Would he even be able to figure out how? What if Malfoy wanted more than just kissing?

The thought sent an embarrassing shiver down his spine.

Was he even ready for that? He had never given anything along the lines of sex before, the way Ron and the other boys described it just didn't strike his fancy. He swallowed hard. Because they were talking about having sex with girls. This was sex with Malfoy. Images flicked through his mind. Malfoy- no Draco, stark naked the one time Harry had walked in on him in the prefect's bathroom, drying himself off, completely unaware of Harry's existence. Then he was in Harry's bed, wearing nothing but Harry's own tie, eyes shut, mouth an 'O' of bliss, arching off the bed-

"Alright, students! You're free to go to supper. Remember, your reports on the theory of inanimate object transfigurations is due Monday."

The Professor's voice shook him from his thoughts. He felt his cheeks heat. He was 15 after all, he knew that these kind of thoughts were normal, but that didn't make it any easier to accept.

He was new to this, he decided as he walked to the Great Hall. With Voldemort and Umbridge, who really had time for romance?

Draco was waiting for him when arrived at 12:32 precisely.

"You're late," he informed him.

"Sorry. Had to detour to avoid Filch."

Malfoy looked him up and down appraisingly, and then gave a sharp nod as if to say, "you'll do."

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"Well," Draco finally spoke. "Get on with it."

"Huh?"

"You're a lost cause, Potter. Kiss me, you nutter."

And swallowing down the rest of his inhibitions, Harry did.

And it was soft and sweet and only slightly awkward when Harry missed his mouth at one point, but that soon lead to the wonders of neck kissing, so neither really complained.

It was everything Harry dreamed of.

And so was the next night, and the night after that.

But despite his best efforts, Draco stayed true to his words and never again offered his friendship, or anything more, to Harry.

One night, Malfoy didn't show up.

And Harry knew then that it was over.

The sides of the war had been decided. Everyone was taking their roles.

Even Draco Malfoy.

Everyone, except it seemed, for Harry. He'd known once Umbridge took over, things couldn't last, not as they were. He had a responsibility to Dumbledore's Army, to his friends. But still, a sliver of hope had remained. That one, stupid bit of hope had held out that maybe, just maybe, Draco would see the light.

Harry had long since admitted to himself that he was in love with him.

It was that hope that kept him waiting at the astronomy tower, holding out until dawn.

Malfoy Manor had suffered greatly in the war. The grounds were dry and dead, the vines twisted around the mansion was almost unruly. The rest of it had simply seemed to have began to crumble, as if it had held more dark magic than it could bear.

Harry approached the main entrance anyway.

At 20 years old, Harry would have thought he'd outgrow the nervous jumping in his stomach at prospect of seeing him again.

It had been a year since he'd last seen him, when he had testified at the trials for him and his mother. Each were let off with house arrest for six months.

But there had been no salvation for Lucius. Azkaban for the rest of his days.

Harry stood at the tall black doors before him, wondering how Draco was handling his father's absence. Harry wouldn't know. All he received was a hurtfully formal note of thanks, signed by Draco and Narcissa. That was the last time he heard from him.

He hesitated before pulling the rope that would ring the doorbell. He had unannounced, convinced that if he'd given notice, Draco would find any possible reason to keep him from coming. But he had to. He had to say goodbye to everything that could have been. He needed this to move on.

The doorbell was deafening, sounding a slow, deep chime that made the walls tremble. Harry winced, and waited for the door to open.

It took awhile, but when the door opened, it was not by a house elf, as Harry expected, but rather Draco Malfoy himself.

He looked disgruntled, as if the sound of the doorbell was signaling his untimely death. But the only one likely to die today was Harry, he mused.

He tried to utter a greeting, explain his presence, something. But the words died in his throat.

War changes people. Harry knew that. Merlin, everyone knew that. But somehow that change can still come as a shock.

Malfoy had changed.

His hair was long and lose, framing angler face nicely. He'd lost the wizard robes he wore when he was young and replaced them with casual muggle clothes. His eyes looked brighter and his hair gleamed in the afternoon sun. Harry stared. He looked beautiful.

Malfoy stared at him in disbelief. "Potter." he said

There were so many things Harry had wanted to say to him, finally seeing him after all this time, with no war between them. But all that came out was, "You're wearing jeans."

The disbelief was quickly replaced by irritation. "What do you want?"

Harry blinked at him. What he wanted and what he came here for were two very different things.

Regardless he held out the bundle in his arms. "This is yours."

Hesitantly, Draco took the parcel and slowly began to unwrap it.

Soon, the smooth polish of a hawthorn wand sparkled in the sunlight.

"It's my wand," he spoke quietly. "You kept it."

Harry couldn't resist. "Well spotted, Malfoy."

Malfoy glared at him, but it didn't distract from the misty look in his eyes.

Harry grinned.

Slowly, Draco smiled back. "Would you… would you like to come in?" he asked.

Harry nodded, his heart warming "I'd like that very much."

Thanks for reading! I was gonna add some smut, but I think that would be better as a separate installment to keep the rating T. Expect that soon!