The week which followed had to be one of the worst Harry had ever gone through. He was caught in some kind of mental hell, his thoughts spinning around in a confusing whirl. He was having trouble sleeping and concentrating on both Quiddich and his school work. He'd never been presented this situation before, and honestly didn't know what to do now that it was here. All of his previous troubles had been pretty black and white. He knew his enemy, and knew how to fight them.
This time, there was no enemy. This was a problem of emotion, the strongest of emotion, and it was something he hadn't really been prepared to face.
His nights were plagued by dreams which only proved to trouble him more. It was suddenly as though, now that his mind knew it was possible, it had latched on like a pitbull and didn't want to let go. He couldn't stop wondering what it would be like to act on the emotions that refused to be subdued.
He knew that Draco was attracted to him, beyond a shadow of a doubt.
What Harry had to do was figure out what he was going to do about it.
Did the sudden onslaught of dreams mean that he was attracted to Draco in return? How could that be possible, when he'd disliked him so strongly just a short while ago?
Well... that wasn't true, exactly.
Harry's absent note-taking ended as that single thought occured to him.
He had taken it for granted that he hated Draco, because during some brief moments he really had. But Harry had never had it in him to really dispise someone. On occasion, his anger would get the best of him, but it always faded not soon after.
So what had his feelings been toward Draco all of this time?
Irritation, for certain. But a grudging respect. Draco really was a brilliant wizard. He wasn't the best, but he was still skilled. His spells, once he learnd them, always flowed so easily.
Harry had always taken careful note of Draco, whether he'd noticed or not. Draco's grades and responses in class. The seat he always took in the dining hall. How he responded and reacted to those around him. How he walked, with his head held high and not a movement wasted.
He hadn't realized until the truce that he'd enjoyed their verbal sparing. He'd enjoyed having Draco's attention, having those eyes pinning his own. But he'd never stopped to really think as to why his heart would beat a little harder and his interest would be peeked. Certainly, it wasn't because he was being insulted.
So, once again, what was he supposed to do about it?
Things could continue on as they were, with the two of them not talking to each other and everyone else noticing and whispering and wondering what happened. They could keep the uncomfortable silences, the unfulfilled dreams, and the wondering of what could be.
Or he could do what his insticts, dreams, and heart were screaming at him to do.
For their final class that day, when Harry entered the room, he made his way straight to where Draco was sitting. Without a word, he sat down next to the other boy. Ron and Hermoine were shocked with his actions, but didn't have the chance to ask him anything before the professor entered.
A glance out of the corner of his eye showed Harry that Draco was just as shocked as his two friends, and probably the rest of the class. But he kept his head held high, and didn't move as the class progressed.
As he'd hoped, when class was finished, Draco didn't immediately get up. Harry asked his friends if they could go on ahead without him and, relunctantly, they agreed.
Finally, he and Draco left the classroom together, neither of them speaking as they moved away from the rest of the students, into an empty hallway.
Here, Harry stopped and looked over at the other boy. "I'm not going to spend the rest of my life pretending that nothing's happened. Nor am I going to spend the rest of my life wondering what could of happened," he stated simply, letting Draco draw his own conclusions from that.
"It's not easy to be my friend, Harry."
Harry's lips quirked up in a ghost of a smile. "I'm not exactly asking to be your friend, Draco," he returned.
There was a stretched silence, and Harry looked up at the other. Malfoy's expression was bland, except for the intensity of his eyes. He could read a lot here, most of all confusion. He'd never realized until now how expressive Draco's eyes could be.
"Do you really know what you're asking?" Draco finally asked.
This time Harry did smile, slowly walking over to the other until they were only a small distance apart. He took a deep breath, remembering the first of the dreams he'd had, remembering the questions and answers and the honest truth that had come to him then. It had begun this torturous week, and opened doors within his own mind that he hadn't even known were there.
"Yes, I do."
The End