Harry runs down the corridor at top speed, knocking into walls at each turn and nearly tripping on his own feet on every staircase. Because he's late to Potions, and Slughorn considers him enough of a disappointment as it is, given his falling grades and all. The Half-Blood Prince isn't there anymore to transform his miserable skills into miraculous abilities, and Harry's willing to save as much of his pride as he can by at least handing in decent essays and not completely failing the class altogether.

It would be easier, however, if his homework didn't just disappear when he needed to hand it in.

He's just lost at least fifteen minutes looking for it, and is now awefully late to class ; the last thing he needs, really, if he is to remain – or rather, to return – in his Professor's good books.

He doesn't pause to think how strange it is that he cares so much about that all of a sudden ; it's not like he ever cared before about his grades or his professor's opinion of his schoolwork. Though he supposes, this year being the first he ever lived as a normal teenager – well, young adult now, really – it's only natural he wants to be a normal teenager. Going to class, not failing his NEWTs, having fun with his friends, and all that.

That's everything he has hoped for, when choosing to return to Hogwarts for an eighth year.

It turned out to be a little more complicated than that.

First, studying for NEWTs is agonising. They have an impossible workload, and Harry is nearly banging his head on the table every evening during their study sessions. It seems hunting down Horcruxes and killing Dark Lords, however arduous, is not enough to guarantee good grades in class, even in Charms or Transfiguration.

If his homework starts disappearing like that, he thinks to himself, even going to class is compromised.

Then, his friends have returned too, alright. But they are not the only ones. Other eighth years are also here. Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs... Slytherins. All sharing a single eighth year dormitory.

It had been very awkward at first, Slytherins being... well, Slytherins. The other houses were getting along well enough, but the four representatives of the house in green had been rather ostracized. Even in this newfound peace, everyone remained wary of them ; understandable, given their past. But it is all behind them now, and since Slytherins kept a low profile, intent on not gathering attention to themselves, students and teachers alike were doing their best not to antagonise them. To be civil, even.

Until the day when Malfoy, of all people, had silently sat next to Harry, Ron and Hermione in the common room, placing a piece of parchment on the table before them, on which was written an explanation on the Potion's lesson they'd all been struggling with for the past hour.

After that, Hermione had attempted conversation with him now and then ; and surprisingly, Malfoy had responded, although it had seemed to cost him at first. The other Slytherins had started joining in as well, and now Hermione and Parkinson share study timetables and common room gossip alike, and Zabini and Nott like nothing better than to lose to Ron at chess over and over again, sometimes even attempting two on one.

Goyle hasn't returned this year, thank Merlin ; since Crabbe's horrible death in the Room of Requirements, Harry simply can't look at him. And Malfoy...

Malfoy seems to have taken a shine to Harry. Granted, a rather silent one ; but still.

In the evenings, he approaches Harry in the common room, face impassive but a clear question in his eyes, and stays there until Harry nods his consent. Then only, he sits next to him, opening his books before him and starting to study. Now and again, he steals glances at Harry's own work, and gives quiet advice when he sees him stuck on a question, explaining whole parts of lessons in a low voice, only for Harry to hear.

He would never admit to that in front of anyone, but he sometimes pretends he didn't get it, just to hear Malfoy's soft tones. They are oddly soothing.

At night, Malfoy sits cross-legged on his bed, writing long letters to his mother, a soft smile on his lips or a frown on his face, depending on the content. When he is finished, he neatly places his quill and parchment on his bedside table, letter ready to be owled in the morning ; and then, he lifts his head, catches Harry's eyes, and nods his goodnight before spelling shut the curtains on his four-poster bed.

No one else was given the goodnight nod. Only Harry.

Every single night.

This near friendliness makes him feel quite odd ; besides, Hermione and Parkinson seem way too pleased about it for Harry's comfort. He doesn't know why Malfoy acts this way towards him. Sure, he is being cordial with the other eighth years, too. Even speaks to them, cracks a smile at his friend's jokes, drawls a comment for Parkinson to snicker at now and again, even drawing smiles out of Ron and Hermione.

They joke with Malfoy. What is the world coming to ?

But, Harry has noted, Malfoy only comes to sit next to him. Only Harry is treated to his companionable silence, sitting side by side on the common room couch, to the murmured words, and the goodnight nods. Only he is allowed to see the little smile playing on Malfoy's lips when he writes to his mother or reads her replies ; he is certain of that.

And it is a bit scary, that he should have a different treatment than everyone else.

Maybe Malfoy feels he owes Harry for what happened in the Room of Requirement. Maybe that is the reason for this quiet companionship. But Malfoy's demeanor says otherwise.

Harry has known him long enough now to know ; if Malfoy had felt in Harry's debt, he would have been nervous, defensive. Not... peaceful. There is no plausible reason on earth that would prompt the Slytherin to act like this, and for the life of him, Harry can't comprehend why he does. It litterally plagues his thoughts.

A few nights ago, Malfoy had, as always, nodded his goodnight to Harry.

Harry, who had just found himself detailing the blond's face, down to the shape of his lips, the way it curved in a smile, light pink and seemingly soft.

He'd snapped his eyes back to the grey orbs, surprised at his own thoughts, and nervously waved. Waved.

Malfoy had started at that, unexpecting an actual answer. His eyes had seemed alight with something Harry couldn't place, and then the curtains had closed on him.

Harry had felt his face go red, and closed his own bed curtains in a rush, hoping no one had seen the odd exchange.

The next day, the light was still in Malfoy's eyes, and the days after that too. It felt like he sat closer on the couch, studying next to Harry with that soft smile of his, that Harry tried so hard no to stare at again.

Because Harry was very confused, and not at all inclined to go down the train of thought that Malfoy conjured. Not at all.

Instead he chose to ignore the unpleasant feeling in his gut, the pointed stares Hermione tended to send his way when Malfoy sat with him, and the temptation to fucking stare at his face.

He couldn't concentrate on his work, finished it at the last minute and lost it, and that's why he is running now ; because Malfoy can't seem to act normally around him and Harry is completely at a loss with what to do about it.

Although come to think of it, Harry can't think of a reason why his Potion's essay was neatly folded behind the sink in the boy's dorm bathroom. That doesn't seem like a place to disregard your work when comes the time to go to bed.

He doesn't pause to wonder who would gain anything from hiding his homework either, because he's late enough as it is, and he couldn't care less right now.

Finally, he reaches the Potion's classroom door, and throws himself on it in an effort to not be so late and to seem very, very sorry while opening it.

He pauses then, hands on his knees and panting for breath, trying to gasp his apology to Slughorn as clearly as he can manage.

"I'm, very, very – sorry, Professor, but my... my essay..."

Only as he gulps in large quantities of air does he take in the smell, and it effectively distracts him from what he knows is a very lame apology indeed.

The scent in the room is oddly enticing ; compelling, even. It nearly makes his head spin, or it could be the race to class, Harry is not quite sure. All in all, it's a rather pleasant sensation, although something about that smell is disturbing. Harry thinks he knows it, but can't quite place it yet.

"What – what that's smell ?" he finds himself asking of the room, an odd mixture of appreciation and disgust in his tone. He still doesn't know which he wants to settle on. No one comes forth with a response, though, and that in itslef is worrying.

His breathing evens out and he can stand straighter, taking in the curious looks he's getting. Hermione even sports a very hopeful smile ; odd.

Harry vaguely remembers Slughorn speaking of revisions last Potion's class, and asking the students what they would like to go over before their next exam in a couple weeks. A very enthusiastic Parkinson had thrown her hand in the air at that, and the whole class had agreed to brew...

The realisation hits him at the same time he finally places the smell. His face blanches.

"Is that... is that Amortentia ?" he demands weakly.

"Well, yes, m'boy, that's what you all asked to study today !" Slughorn puts in jovially. He always loves it when they brew Amortentia. Lots of students making fools of themselves, probably. Just like Harry right now. "I have to admit, I'm a little surprised you asked for this one, since you were all quite good at it when we first brew it, but well, if you feel you need it... now, what was that about your essay ?"

Harry can't help breathing in the scent again, just as he can't help his wide eyes from going to the one person he knows it belongs to. Said person looks determinedly at their cauldron, lips pressed into a thin line. Probably just busy working. Concentrating. Just as the pink tainting their cheeks must come from the heat. It has to be.

Harry takes a step backwards, abandoning his rumpled essay on the floor.

"I... I think I'm going to be sick."

With that, he runs to the bathroom.

"So. Now he's in denial. It's okay. We can deal with this." Hermione says, nodding as if to convince herself. Pansy is not as calm, however.

"Damn this stupid oblivious boy, we were so close ! So very close ! Argh, what on earth can we do to make him open his stupid bespectacled eyes ? Stupid Potter !"

She then sits sullenly back in her chair, arms crossed on her chest. She looks the picture of exasperation, yet Hermione knows it's just a show. Pansy's her favourite drama queen.

"I don't know", the Gryffindor sighs, glancing at the silent Draco on the couch. She lowers her tone a bit more. "I think he knows, now, if the look on his face earlier is anything to go by... He just doesn't want to accept it." She sighs again, looking out the window. Nothing in the windy exterior seems to help, though.

Pansy seems to hesitate in asking her next question, her previous ire seemingly forgotten, and that's enough to regain Hermione's attention. The Slytherin girl measuring her words is not a common occurrence.

"Is it... is it because Draco's a guy ?" she near whispers. Oh. So that's what she was worried about.

Hermione is not sure her answer will bring the poor girl reassurance, but she says it anyway. Best be honest, if they want to succeed.

"No, Harry's really open about that. I don't think he's ever dated a boy, but he's definitely not against the idea. You know how he and Ginny used to date, sixth year ; they thought about getting back together after the war, but Harry realised he didn't actually want to. He told me he really loved Ginny, but more like a sister. He didn't feel, you know, attraction of that kind anymore."

"Okay, but that doesn't make him gay. I mean, Ginny's a very attractive girl and all, but love dosen't work like that. He could have just been into another girl."

"Well..." Hermione bites her lip ; Harry has confided in her, and it was never her intention to share their conversation with others. But he is being an oblivious prat, as Pansy has put it, and it's her duty to help him see that maybe his happiness isn't so far away.

The Slytherin seems to understand her inner turmoil, for she leans forwards, serious expression on her face. "I won't tell, Granger. You can trust me."

Her choice of words makes Hermione laugh ; she can't help it. "There once was a time when I wouldn't have believed a word coming from your mouth", she chuckles, "but alright. You're not so bad, Parkinson."

Pansy smirks at that. "Well, thank you, Granger. Now, gossip !"

This makes Hermione's eyebrows raise in mock suspicion ; Pansy just grins and winks at her.

"Alright. He told me..." She takes a deep breath, preparing herself to spill her best friend's secrets – for his own good, obviously. "He told me he wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. On the love front. He said he could recognise that some girls were truly pretty, like Ginny, or the Patil sisters. Even mentioned you", she winks at Pansy, which only makes her grimace. Potter is definitely not her type. "But none made him... uh, want them, I think he said." Hermione scrunches up her nose at that, not comfortable speaking about her friend's desires, of all things. "Then he actually blushed and said he'd wondered if maybe he was into boys instead, and had started paying attention to them more."

Hermione pauses to look at Pansy, who listens with rapt attention. "Okay, and ?" the girl prompts. "That can't be the end of it."

"Well... he kind of started babbling from there on, I think he was quite embarrassed to be talking about this. He did mention attraction, but never to the point of wanting to date someone. Then he said something about how even Malfoy was good looking and it was infuriating, and he turned even more red at that and just kept sighing and saying, "whatever, maybe I'm just crazy", and that's what got me to think that maybe, there was something there. So I looked at it more closely and realised Malfoy wouldn't be completely against the idea, but Harry... I think Malfoy confuses him. He can see he's trying to be friendly and all, but he can't just erase everything that's happened before between them. I mean, they were always quite intense. Sometimes he still complains about him", she adds, sighing yet again. Harry can be so infuriating sometimes. "It's quite feeble, really, because what is there for him to complain about ? Malfoy doesn't insult anyone, he doesn't even look funny at the Hufflepuffs. That's huge, for him. He helps him with his homework, and he smiles. I think somehow, he's waiting to see what the facade his for. He never could help suspecting he was up to something."

Pansy nods, thoughtful. "So you mean... Potter likes blokes alright, but his problem is Draco ? You mean he refuses to even consider Draco as boyfriend material ? Because, what, they had a few fights over the years ?" She seems to find the idea absolutely outrageous, and Hermione has to smile at that.

"That's quite the understatement, Pansy." she chuckles softly. Said girl groans and presses her face into her hands, seemingly defeated.

"I hate Potter", she mumbles through her fingers. Her head appears again at Hermione's soft laugh ; she doesn't believe her one moment. She has every reason not to, because Pansy actually enjoys Potter's company very much. He's loads of fun to tease. "Have you seen Draco's face since this morning ?" She goes on, looking the picture of despair. They both glance at the blond, still silent on the couch. He does not even pretend to study ; he just sits there, as if stunned. Hermione can't help pitying him. "There's no way he didn't see Potter's face when he realised what he was smelling ; he always somehow knows everything that prat does. It would hurt anyone to see this amount of horror painted on someone's face once they realise they actually fancy you."

Hermione agrees, but something gets her hopes up still.

"Yes, but now we know Harry really does fancy him, right ? And even Malfoy knows it !"

"Yeah, and they're never going to do anything about it, because they both know the very idea made Potter want to throw up", Pansy scoffs. "Idiot."

"But Harry will, once he's seen Malfoy's up to absolutely nothing."

"Well, except getting in Potter's pants."

"Pansy !" Hermione squeaks, going pink. The Slytherin girl just flashes a brilliant smile. Gryffindors were so easy to embarrass. "All we have to do, is get Malfoy to act a bit more... normal, and Harry to see that Malfoy is... what is it you said ? Boyfriend material ?"

"Perfect boyfriend material, I might add. That's all well and good, Granger, but how do we go about that ?"

"Go about what ?" comes the familiar voice of her own boyfriend, and she blanches a little ; a quick glance shows no Harry in the vicinity, and she allows herself to relax, still wondering where her best friend is at if he's not attached to his own male best friend.

Ron sits next to Hermione, and Zabini and Nott join Pansy, making their little corner of room quite crowded all of a sudden. Malfoy still hasn't moved, and gives no indication of having heard any of their conversation, to the girls' relief. The Gryffindor glances at her Slytherin counterpart, silently asking if they should share with the boys. More minds could get this done quicker, after all.

Pansy gets the message and whispers mutinously.

"Potter won't accept he's into Draco, and Draco's miserable." Well, that certainly summed everything up.

"Harry ? And Malfoy ?" Ron asks, incredulous. He pauses to consider. "That's... unexpected."

Hermione smiles proudly at her boyfriend. He's not known for his calm temperament, and she can safely admit she was afraid of his reaction. He knows of Harry's penchant for boys, but dating Malfoy is a whole other story entirely. Ron too is still wary of him, even though he makes every effort possible, if only to please his girlfriend.

Zabini speaks next, a frown on his face. "Draco's gay ? How come I didn't know that ?" Next to him, Nott nods fervently ; neither were in on the confidence.

"Really, boys ? He refused me for seven years. Me. If that doesn't make him gay, I don't kow what does." She smirks as they roll their eyes. "Also, I caught him with a Ravenclaw boy, fifth year. Can't remember his name ; he seemed boring as hell. I can't figure out just what Draco saw in him. He made me promise not to tell anyone, of course. Imagine Lucius's face if he'd learnt his only heir isn't going to produce one of his own. Anyway, I think he always fancied Potter a bit, but being rejected for a Weasley might have made him vindictive. No offense meant," she adds for Ron's benefit, who offers her a weak smile. "He was just trying to gain his attention, all these years. Wrong approach, one might say."

There are a few nods ; it does make sense, in a twisted kind of way ; but Draco has never been one for normalcy.

"You secretive cow", Zabini grins. "You could have told us !"

"And risk repercussions ? No, thank you. Draco would have murdered me, at best."

"I can't believe I could have had a shot. I'm pretty sure he's a treat. Damn."

Pansy whips her head around at that, eyes wide and mouth agape. "You're into boys ?"

Zabini just grins back. "I'm into anything that can kiss." He pauses, considering his words, and taking in the blank stares he's receiving. "Wait, that came out wrong."

His schoolmates just shake their heads, erasing the dreadful image of Zabini and a Dementor involved in a romantic way. "Back to the topic at hand", Pansy demands, tapping softly with both hands on the table.

"Yeah", Ron adds. "Someone explain to me how this has happened and we haven't noticed, 'cause I still can't see how Harry and Malfoy can fancy each other."

The door to the common room opens then, and Harry shuffles in, an awkward look on his face. He takes in the small group by the window, the Hufflepuff girl coming down her dormitory stairs, and Malfoy, who is alone on the couch, and suddenly staring intently at Harry's face.

The dark-haired boy reddens, fixes his eyes firmly on the boy's dorm door ahead of him, and marches there as confidently as he can manage, Malfoy's own eyes following him all the way there. When Harry finally disappears, the blond releases the breath he's been holding and resumes staring blankly at the fireplace before him.

Ron stares blankly, too, at nothing in particular, just trying to process the scene.

"Okay", he finally says, eyebrows raised into his hairline as if he still can't believe this. "What do we do ?"

The question still hangs a few days later, during a particularly agitated study session in the library. The two boys are blessedly absent, Harry meeting with McGonagall about his professionnal future after NEWTs – his fourth appointment already, if Hermione counted right – and Draco electing to use the free period to write to his mother in the quiet of the common room.

"Absolutely not", Ron is repeating. "I will not talk to Harry about this. I am not ashamed to admit that I am completely out of my depth with this. I mean, I can accept that this is what he wants alright, but under no circumstances will I have a conversation related to a possible relationship with Malfoy with him. He won't listen to me, he knows I don't like the stupid git. There's no way I'll make a convincing case. And no, Parkinson, I won't tell him to "just bang him already" either", he adds when the Slytherin opens her mouth to speak. She pouts. "That is just not happening. Let's just get on with the other ideas instead. Please."

Hermione sighs but doesn't complain ; she doesn't feel like it would work anyway. Harry would probably just avoid the subject altogether and flee for his life.

"Well - " Pansy starts again, but Blaise Zabini interrupts her immediately.

"Truth or Dare is so unclassy ; even for you, Pans", he states with a dramatic and accusing finger. "I mean, come on. You can do better than that."

"But its efficiency's been proven over and over again !" she argues back.

"To be fair, I think forcing them to kiss would block Harry even more. He'd probably just run off", Hermione throws in. The Amortentia incident is proof enough of that. "No, I think we have to get them to interact more. You know, like normal situations you could find yourself in with friends, only it's just the two of them. And since they'd be forced to interact, Harry would have to recognise that Draco means no harm anymore, and that he would be a brilliant boyfriend. Stop shuddering, Ron", she adds with a stern look.

"Sorry", the red-head replies apologetically. "I'll get used to it, I promise. Quick question, though ; how do we get them to interact ? They can't be in the same room for more than four seconds in a row."

The sound of Madam Pince's approaching footsteps prevents any of them from answering right away, and they all pretend to concentrate on their untouched Charm's notes.

"We plan stuff and don't show up, see how it goes", Pansy shrugs when the coast is clear again.

Ron and Theodore look dubious, but it's Blaise who speaks up.

"Won't they just go their separate ways once they realise we're not coming ?"

"Well", Hermione says firmly, "We will find out soon enough."

Harry stands confused in the silent Eighth year common room.

He is certain Hermione mentioned a party, multiple times ; and Ron, too. Even the quiet Susan Bones threw a word in about it. In fact, every Eighth year he heard talk about it at least once today. They were supposed to meet here after dinner.

Yet, here he is, alone. He is quite sure the boy's dorm is empty, too ; and although he can't check the girl's dorm, he would bet almost anything that nobody's there either.

He is about to go back up for the Marauder's Map when he hears the Gargoyle guarding the door ask someone for the password. Perhaps he has just arrived early, he thinks hopefully ; a party seems like a good idea to get his mind off things, and he has been quite eager to get to the present moment since he has first heard about it. On the other side of the door, the Gargoyle steps aside and opens the door, and then...

Malfoy. No one but Malfoy.

Harry's heart immediately hurts in his chest, until he can't quite remember how to breathe, and the blond just stands there, as puzzled as Harry was just a moment earlier.

The grey eyes take in the empty room, devoid of any drink, food, or game, and above all, of any student save for the Gryffindor. He takes another hesitant step towards the middle of the room, confusion still evident on his face.

"Where is everyone ?" he asks, his voice as quiet as it has been all year ; and Harry flinches at the subdued tone.

"I don't know", he replies, somewhat awkwardly. He tries to resist the urge to scratch at the back of his neck, and fails. This really isn't the most comfortable situation, and he would like out of it as soon as possible.

"There was supposed to be a party, right ?" Malfoy goes on.

"Yeah, I thought so too, but.. maybe we misunderstood. Look, I'm tired anyway, I think I'll just head to bed early. So uh... good night."

Again ? Draco thinks as he sits alone on the common room couch. He suspects his friends are up to something, but if it can help matters, then he is willing to go along with it. Sure enough, Harry comes down the dormitory steps a few moments later ; alone, like himself.

And again, Harry stares, then looks around as if verifying that Hermione or Pansy are not hidden behind an armchair or the pot plant in the corner.

Draco indicates the note he has found on the table upon sitting down. "Pansy says she had forgotten her appointment with McGonagall, and that we go on without her."

"Ok", Harry replies dubiously. "Did all of them go with her, then ?"

"I don't think so", Draco says. "Hermione mentioned going to the house-elves to discuss regulations, I think Ronald went with her. As for the rest of them, well... maybe they didn't need you to help them with their DADA wand movements after all."

"I didn't ask for them to come", Harry remarks dryly. "They were the one to ask for help."

"I know", Draco says softly, appeasingly. He senses that the Gryffindor is about to turn around and go back where he came from ; so he tries. "Listen, even if we don't study for DADA, we can progress on something else. I noticed you were struggling a bit with Binns's lessons, which I can't really blame you for, but my parents made me learn half of that stuff when I was a child. Maybe I could run through a few things with you, see if we can find a way to make you remember the important points ?"

Harry fixes him with a blank stare for a moment, and Draco fears he might have broken him. But then he sighs softly, shakes himself, and slowly comes to sit next to Draco. "Alright", he says. "But I'm completely hopeless at History of Magic, so, good luck to you."

Draco smiles, a small, secret kind of smile, and he begins to run through their notes, explaining in the low voice he knows makes Harry listen, and watches as the tense Gryffindor progressively relaxes.

When they get stood up for the third time in a row, Draco knows Harry suspects something too. The nervous look on his face as he enters the Quidditch pitch to find no one but Draco there tells him everything he needs to know. Still, he walks all the way to the blond and stands there, broom in hand, without a word. Suprisingly, he is the one to suggest, after a few minutes of unsuccessful waiting, that they play Seeker's Game, if it's only going to be the two of them. Draco is happy to take the unexpected opportunity and readily agrees.

They fetch the golden snitch and take off in the air, flying side by side and catching and releasing the snitch over and over again, and Draco smiles.

"See ? They're getting there. First they study together, now the fly together – next thing we know, they'll sleep -"

"Yes, yes, we get it", interrupts Theodore ; and though everyone is quite surprised that Ron wasn't the first to stop Pansy, the look on his face tells them it was just a matter of seconds.

Hermione's sudden cry of alarm gets everyone's attention at once ; and as they all turn to look at her, they see the reason for her rapidly growing fear.

"What the fuck is that ?" Blaise demands, but no one is willing to give an answer ; except for Pansy, who replies in the same incredulous tone.

"That's a fucking tornado, that's what it is. And it's heading straight for the boys ! There, by the lake", she says, pointing. "It's the sixth years ! They must have been practicing these weather spells we learned two years ago, and fucking botched them up !"

Exclamations of panick shake the group, and every one of them puts in his own version of "What do we do ?" until the Slytherin girl has enough, and silences them all with a glare and a shout.

"Quiet, all of you ! We need to get either McGonagall or Flitwick. We'll separate and look for them. You, go to the Great Hall. You, Headmistress's office. You, teacher's room. You, Transfiguration classroom, and you, Charms classroom. I'll search every corridor. Any other teacher you come across, you warn as well. Now, go !"

Harry has caught the Snitch once more, as he has done almost every time it's been released since they started. He's beating Draco hands down, but the Slytherin couldn't care less because Harry is grinning widely at him, cheeks red from the wind and hair sticking in every direction ; he's just beautiful, and he's happy, and Draco loves it. And as Draco begins to grin back he stops and stares with a gleam in his eyes and a new kind of red on his cheeks, and Draco has to look away before he hopes too much.

That's probably why he notices the huge tornado that's forming by the lake and hurtling itself in their direction, and Harry doesn't ; that's probably why, when the Gryffindor notices Draco take off at top speed, he doesn't understand, because the Snitch is still securely tucked in his hand, so what is Draco chasing after ? That's probably the only reason why he only notices the tornado when it is already upon him, and doesn't have the slightest chance of escaping it, and is sucked in before he can attempt to fly away, or even has time to scream. And when the Slytherin turns around to check on him, he isn't there anymore.

Draco really panicks then. His heart beats faster and his mind races in search of a solution : he has to get Harry out of there before he gets seriously hurt. Caught in the mad rush of the situation, he charges towards the tornado, only to fly away immediately when he closely risks getting sucked in too ; he tries again, and again, eyes frantically searching for a glimpse of Harry in there, but sees nothing.

Fear shortens his breath, and his mind is running in circles : save Harry, save Harry, save Harry. Suddenly the Whomping Willow comes into view, and the storm gets alarmingly closer to it by the minute. Draco doesn't think the tree has a chance of being damaged by it, but it will no doubt happily beat up anything within it, and that includes Harry.

Suddenly, he catches sight of it ; a flicker of gold through the raging storm. The Snitch, thankfully still in Harry's hand. Draco's mind races. Maybe, just maybe, if he goes through it fast enough...

With renewed determination, he flies as far away as he dares, and turns around. He takes a deep, calming breath, fixes his gaze on his target, and breaks into the the biggest sprint he can manage. He gains speed again and again, until he senses his broom protest from the pressure and his limbs get numb from the wind and the death grip he keeps on his broomstick ; and, following the flicker of gold he can still see inside the storm, he barrels through the tornado, arm stretched out, ready to grab and hold onto Harry as soon as he comes near him. Every muscle in his body is strained taut, and his broom is pushed to the extreme limit of its capacity to struggle against the pull of the raging wind ; but finally, Harry is in his arms, a heavy but reassuring load, and slowly but surely, they fly out and away from the tornado. They escape the Whomping Willow just in time, and Draco manages to get both him and Harry back to the safety of the ground, his body trembling with adrenaline and exhaustion.

Draco eases Harry on the soft grass, and the Gryffindor blinks blearily at him.

"Draco ?" he mutters, and winces. "Ouch ! What happened ? I feel like I've been beaten up by..."

He glances up then, and the blond follows his gaze to the gigantic tree behind him. Sure enough, it's balancing its branches wildly at the storm ; and its movements seem to be keeping it in place. It looks like two Titans battling, and it's an impressive sight ; and Draco has never been more glad to be far away from the action than he is right now.

"Well, you haven't", Draco replies, his voice a shaky, relieved laugh, "but it was a close call. We should probably take you to Madam Pomfrey though ; I have no idea what that storm might have done to your body."

Harry nods absently, but makes no move to get up, and they sit staring at each other. Draco takes in the shuddering shape before him ; every inch of bare skin is covered in cuts, and he can spot a few bruises blooming here and there, but other than that, he doesn't look too badly injured. His body might feel sore from the pressure of the wind, but nothing seems broken. Surprisingly, the Gryffindor has managed to hang onto both the Snitch and his own broom through the whole ordeal, and although it's definitely going to need some care, at least his Firebolt is not broken.

After a few minutes, it's Harry who breaks the silence.

"You saved me", he says. It's a statement more than a question ; amazed and wondering as well as thankful. Draco doesn't know what to make of that tone.

"W-well, yes", he all but stutters back. Damn his voice ; it won't stop shaking.

Harry grimaces as he tries to sit straighter, using his elbows for support. "You could have left and called someone", he elaborates, still frowning through the pain. "Yet you flew right through that storm and rescued me."

Yes, he could have, Draco thinks ; but then he might have brought help too late and Harry might have ended up in the Whomping Willow after all.

The way the Gryffindor studies Draco's face now is enough to keep the blond silent ; he simply nods, at a loss for words.

"You know, I kept thinking you were up to something", Harry confesses. "I mean, before, you were always up to something. And now, well... you being all friendly and quiet and... I don't know, I didn't get it. I guess old habits just die hard." He smiles at Draco, a shy but brilliant smile, and Draco forgets to breathe. He has to answer though, and he struggles to get air into his lungs.

"I was trying to say sorry", he whispers at last, eyes never leaving Harry's green orbs. "For being a jerk before, and for following the wrong path, for everything. I know I've made mistakes, and I wanted to make amends. Show you that I could change, that I had changed." He pauses to consider his next words. How can he phrase this without making the Gryffindor flee again ?

"I always knew you were a good person, and I hated you for it. Until I didn't and it was too late, because I was on the wrong side of a war you were always going to win, sworn to a madman I had no respect or admiration for. Then you spoke not only at my trial and my mother's trial, but also at my father's. Merlin knows he didn't deserve that much, and you had every reason not to, but you did it. Even if it didn't keep him from Azkaban, you still managed to reduce his sentence, and I'll forever be grateful for that. No matter the mistakes he's made, he's still my father."

Harry nods seriously. "Your father deserved to go to Azkaban", he says firmly, and Draco winces. "You're right that he made mistakes, Draco. He willingly followed Voldemort in the first place, and killed for him. But he didn't deserve to die there. His beliefs and methods were wrong, but he only ever wanted what he believed was best for you. He loves you, even though he made a piss-poor job of raising you", Harry adds with a teasing grin.

Draco narrows his eyes, ready to protest, but Harry interrupts him with a laugh.

"Come on, even you admitted you were a jerk. A bigoted, spoiled rotten, self-centered prat. You can not deny that."

"My Father will hear about this", Draco mutters ; but there is a smile playing on his lips, and they both burst out laughing. Harry immediately winces, clutching at his ribs, but he keeps chuckling through the pain, and Draco thinks his face will be stuck with a smile plastered on it for the rest of eternity.

"Anyway", he goes on, "you saved me and my family then, and you'd saved me in the Room of Hidden Things before, and I didn't deserve it either times, and I just... I wanted to thank you, somehow, I suppose. I didn't know..." The blond trails off.

Harry's face has fallen, and he stares at him with a strange look of realisation in his eyes. He looks crestfallen and bitter at the same time, as if he doesn't know which one he'd rather settle on. He scrambles to get up, grimacing in pain through it all, but when Draco offers his hand, he backs away as if burned. Despair rises inside Draco. For the life of him, he can't remember what he has said that might have triggered this reaction.

"Well if that's what this is about", Harry says, no longer looking at the blond ; "Then your apology is accepted, and your debts are paid. Your mother saved my life, did you know ? And now you saved mine, so... you don't have to pretend to be friendly anymore, you can just... I'll leave you be, I promise. I'll just uh... I'll go to Madam Pomfrey, get checked and everything. Probably just a few scraps and all. Guess the Willow would have made a fine job of my bones, though", he laughs shakily. "Well... See you around, then."

Draco stares, and stares, and he can't bring himself to move, because how can Harry be so stupid ? Does he really think Draco just felt in his debt ? Did he not see ?

He scrambles to his feet too, and runs after the Gryffindor ; surely he understood what Draco meant. He turns him around, not nearly gently enough for the injured body, and from the dejected look on the boy's face, no, he did not understand.

"That's not what I meant at all", Draco lets out in an indignant rush. "I mean, of course I was in your debt, you saved my life more time than I care to admit, but I didn't pretend. I wanted to say sorry and to show you I'd change, not to pay back some stupid debt, but so you'd forgive me and like me. And now I like you, Potter, and Merlin help me, if you end up running to the bathroom again like you did in Potions, I'll hex you sorry arse until you accept that you do, too !"

Draco's cheeks are burning from the confession and his heart is thumping madly in his chest. He glares furiously at Harry, a full-on Malfoy glare ; and suddenly, a brilliant grin splits the Gryffindor's face, as if Draco wasn't firing centuries of Malfoy fury straight at him.

"There's the Malfoy I know", Harry murmurs, and he laughs.

And then Draco isn't glaring anymore, because Harry's smile is beautiful and infectious, and the blond admitting his feelings doesn't seem to make him sick. So Draco takes his chances, and kisses him.

Harry's laughter dies in his throat as he inhales sharply. Draco tenses, bracing himself for the rejection, the shouting, the possible blow in the jaw. Until he feels a tentative hand on his hip, and the light touch of hesitating fingers in his hair ; and Harry kisses him back, softly, a smile slowly spreading on his lips. Draco can feel his own relieved smile blooming across his face, and he tugs his Gryffindor closer, not daring to ever let him go.

He feels Harry chuckle against him.

"Will your father hear about this ?" Harry murmurs mutinously. Draco breaks the kiss and levels him with a stern look.

"Don't ever talk about my Father when we kiss, ever again", he says. Harry all but laughs again, and Draco melts. "But he might, yes", he adds with a smile. "Someday."

Harry's smile shines brighter than the sun.

"Thank you for warning me, Mr Weasley", Professor McGonagall says when the weather is returned to its normal state ; and her usually stern voice is a bit shaky. "Although you would do well to go straight to the point next time an emergency occurs, young man. I must say your scheming against Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy was of no relevance for me to intervene on the matter of this tornado", she adds with a pointed look.

Ron gives her a rather sheepish look. "Yeah, I panicked", he admits. "Sorry, Professor. I didn't mean for you to know about that, actually -"

"Look, there they are !" Hermione cuts him off, pointing at two far away figures, the shining blond head and messy dark hair unmistakeable even in the distance. Suddenly the distance closes between them, and Hermione blushes. "Oh. They're... oh well, that was rather the point, wasn't it ?"

Pansy squeals in delight next to her. "It's finally happening ! About bloody time, too !"

The boys laugh, and Hermione smiles ; their best friends will finally find some happiness, then.

"I couldn't agree more", McGonagall's voice comes from behind them, and they all jump in surprise, having all but forgotten about the storm and their Headmistress. She looks down at them, and the corner of her mouth lifts almost imperceptibly.

"About bloody time."

The end.