Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter always slept back to back. It was an old habit from the war, when death eaters could burst past the wards and into their little bedroom at Grimwald place at any moment of the night. Harry didn't know how they slept so easily back then. With the threat and fear hanging so heavily over their heads, and how now, when Voldemort was dead and all Death Eaters safely behind bars it took them hours of staring at their opposite walls to get to sleep. Draco coughed, his back shuddering agaisnt Harry, his sharp ones riding up under his thin layer of skin. He hacked away till he finally settled into deep painful breathes, he had been sick for two days now, and Harry was surprised he hadn't caught it yet.

They were always close, another habit from the war most likely, Harry couldn't pick when keeping a close eye on each other became something more. Or how that developed into sharing the same single bed and doing nearly everything together. It was quite normal for Harry to reach over and pick something off Draco's plate, or for Draco to help Harry comb his hair when it was acting extremely difficult. They used to grasp hands under the table at phoenix meets without even realizing it and when the final battle was won and Harry killed Voldemort; Draco had grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him so hard Harry felt bubbles of happiness rise so high up his chest he thought he might explode.

Harry once over heard Ron and Hermione talk about them when he was making his way to the kitchen one morning. He waited in the dark hall way with his ear pressed up agaisnt the dark wood as Ron whispered "Are they boyfriends?"

"Don't be silly Ron" Hermione had said knowingly "Their life partners".

"Life Partners??" Ron asked, sounding confused.

"Like Remus and Sirius were, and like Fred and George, like they are their own little family".

"But.. But Harry has us and the order and everyone... aren't we his family".

"Yeah, Ron... But him and Draco are different". Hermione said getting annoyed.

"How?"

"They just are!"

Thats how Harry thought about them, just are, just as the always have been, nearly. They just are Harry and Draco. Just are living each day since the war. Just are breathing. Just are each others family. Just are.

They hadn't kissed since the final battle, or fought or screamed or cried. Well Draco had cried. It was a month ago and a month after Voldemort's death when Harry walked in on him in the bathroom crying into a mirror like that time at hogwarts. Draco still looked the same as he had then, to pale, to skinny, to pointy. His eyes still look like hundreds of clouds, poured into a blender and switch on high. His hands only a shade different to the white basin he clung to. His sobbing worsened when he locked eyes with Harry. His face melted and he cried a bitter noise of panic, he still allowed Harry's arms to wrap around him and rock him on the bathroom floor, that was still wet from their separate showers that morning. Harry didn't mind that water. As long as it wasn't blood this time.

Draco started coughing again. His flesh felt flushed and hot and heavy. And Harry wondered if it would be better to turn around and lay a hand on his quivering back or stay just as they are, has they always have been. facing the wall for hours, trying to get to sleep.