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Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Year 6 [part I]

a.k.a. the year they fell in love

—

Harry,

Mme Pomfrey refuses to let me see you. I’m done thinking.

Don’t try and write me over the summer.

Draco Malfoy

The parchment in Harry’s hands was well-worn. He’d been fiddling with it all summer. As he stood at platform 9 ¾ surrounded by the excited late-summer buzz that had always warmed Harry, he now found himself deeply chilled.

“We’re going to miss you, Harry,” Remus assured him, a solid hand clasping his shoulder. He had nearly forgotten about the other’s presence, so lost in his own mind. It was a bad habit that he’d developed over the summer.

Harry peered up at the werewolf with a small smile. “I’ll miss you too.”

This summer had not been easy, but Sirius and Remus were the only reason it had felt bearable.

Harry had needed some time away from the Order, a decision that his godfathers stood by, and Molly had been proud of. Meetings were held at the house once a week but only Harry and his godfathers lived there this summer. Whenever anyone tried to question the change in routine from the previous summer, his godfathers would quickly shut them down. Harry knew, on some level that it was likely selfish; but he was glad for the chance to spend time with Remus and Sirius away from the Order. To be a kid for just a little bit longer.

The curse that’d hit Harry’s knee was more serious than he’d initially realized, and Harry had spent most of the summer attending physical therapy sessions at St Mungos. He could walk just fine now, but he’d likely always experience a degree of discomfort and occasional flare ups. It would seem that some dark magic left a near non-existing magical signature, with seemingly irreversible damage.

Then there was the issue of Harry’s having killed someone. Sirius had assured Harry that his cousin Narcissa was ‘evil incarnate.’ Remus understood that the inner struggle Harry was having was not helped by that argument. He always knew that Voldemort would someday need to be faced, but so many of the times he’d faced off with the Dark Lord had been different.

It was only just dawning on him that a war was approaching. This was the first time he’d taken a life, but there was a good chance it would not be the last. That terrified Harry.

And if there was a war his side too would suffer casualties. He should’ve realized after what happened with Cedric in fourth year, but he hadn’t taken the time to think about it then.

Harry had built a family, people he would die for, and the scariest part was that he knew they’d die for him too. He didn’t want that. Not from his godfathers, Hermione, or the Weasleys, not from Pansy, Luna, or Neville. Not anyone.

Remus had spent the summer working with Harry on studying Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry couldn’t cast magic, given he was underage, but he could still study concepts and techniques. Remus had also helped Harry with Legilimency, a skill Harry had committed himself to mastering, still unsettled by the feel of Lucious Malfoy in his head.

He hadn’t told either of his godfathers about the letter. Harry had received the parchment with Draco’s elegant script while lying in a bed in Hogwart’s hospital wing. All the other students had been boarding the Hogwarts express to head home at the time. Shortly after receiving it Remus had arrived to take him home, and Harry had hidden it then, but he knew they’d noticed him reading the same letter over and over in the months that followed.

Harry also knew what it meant. That he and Draco were on different sides now, but it seemed that even that wasn’t enough to get the blond out of Harry’s head.   

“Hey mate, need any help with Hedwig?” Ron asked coming up beside them without any baggage, he must’ve already set up in a cabin.

“That’d be great, thanks Ron,” Harry admitted as he handed the cage to his best friend. As he tucked the letter back in his pocket.

“See you at Christmas,” Remus said as Harry and Ron went to board the train.

“See you,” Harry echoed, still smiling. Harry didn’t know how to explain it, but there was an odd anxiety that came with parting from the people he cared so much about when he still remembered so clearly the first 13 years of his life without them. A distant fear that he might receive a letter that told him circumstances had changed and he’d need to return to the Dursleys.

Harry did his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind as he boarded the train.

“You would not believe the sweets Pansy has helped the twins with over the summer,” Ron said as Harry followed him to the cabin all his friends were in.

“They had me try a Big Blast Biscuit last week, Ron,” Harry reminded him with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m not talking about a Big Blast,” Ron replied. “I mean the ones they’ve been working on secretly with Pansy, she’s bringing a ton with her to help maintain the twin’s legacy at Hogwarts and keep the orders coming in. Drum up interest for their new shop and all that.”

“I’m sure Hermione’s thrilled,” Harry said, but his heart wasn’t in it, down the hall he watched a shock of blond hair disappear into a cabin up ahead as Ron brought Harry into their own cabin with Hermione, Pansy, Neville, and Luna.

Harry sat heavily between Ron and Neville; the girls seated across from them.

Everyone was chatting idly about their summer. Pansy excited to share all she’d learned since essentially being adopted by the Weasleys. After the events at the Ministry last year, her family had disowned her and Molly Weasley had been quick to take her in. Although it seemed an improbable fit at first, the lot of them easily clicked. Ginny was thrilled to have another girl around her own age in the house, Ron and Pansy already got on, the twins had pretty much recruited her into their business, Molly had taught Pansy how to knit over the summer, and Arthur had endeared her to odd muggle objects.

Harry had visited the Weasleys throughout the summer and witnessed it all first hand. Whoever would’ve expected the Weasleys would adopt a Slytherin? He figured Fred and George were likely kicking themselves for not placing a wager on such an unlikely turn of events years earlier.

The conversation was interrupted later in the journey when a few members of the cabin received written invites from the new Professor, Slughorn.

Harry had snuck his invisibility cloak under his robe on the walk to the ‘Slug Club’, in case it could be of use in avoiding the unwanted stares of his peers. Unfortunately, the corridor was too crowded to get away with using it, but he guessed it had been an unlikely hope in the first place.

Chatting with Professor Slughorn had been odd. Harry didn’t have anything against him, but he wasn’t a fan of how the gathering oddly resembled a popularity contest. The only thing that really stuck out to him was the odd tension between Ginny and Blaise, who were currently on a break (the two had gotten in a fight over the summer, Harry hadn’t concerned himself with the details).

Well, that and Draco’s absence, which Harry knew he shouldn’t have cared about.

When they all left Professor Slughorn to change into their robes before arrival, Harry saw his opportunity. He couldn’t resist using the cloak to sneak into the Slytherin compartment alongside Blaise. In the commotion of his entry and the dash up the luggage rack, it was a wonder that he wasn’t seen. Crabbe and Goyle too distracted by Blaise tripping into Goyle’s lap.

There had been a moment where he thought Draco might have seen him, but the boy did nothing and so Harry knew he was mistaken.

“So, Zabini,” the blond drawled, “what did Slughorn want?”

“Just trying to make up to well-connected people,” said Zabini with a shrug. Silence hung in the air before Draco pressed on.

“Who else had he invited?”

“Who do you think?” Zabini asked, then he sighed. “Ginny was there you know.”

“Really?” Draco asked, not sounding the least bit surprised. “Have you not made up with her yet?”

“You know that I can’t,” Zabini said, and Harry didn’t miss the way the boy lifted his nose in the air. He dismissed the phrasing as Zabini being posh and arrogant.

“But you’re still hung up on her,” Crabbe pointed out.

“There will be other girls.”

“But you don’t want any other girl,” Goyle corrected.

Zabini did not seem pleased by their insistence, his arms crossing tightly against his chest. “You’re all insufferable.”

Harry wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he walked into their cabin. For some reason, he thought it would be about the war, or Voldemort, he hadn’t considered that they might just be chatting about relationship drama. It was a shocking reminder that they were all teenagers, that these were the types of things they were should be discussing.

Draco was gazing out the window when he noticed the castle. “We better get our robes on,” Draco told his friends. Everyone was spurred into motion. Except for Draco. Who remained seated, admiring the view out the window.

“You coming?” Zabini asked as the last out the door.

Draco waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll catch up.”

Once the cabin door had firmly shut, leaving only Draco behind, his stormy grey eyes shifted to the rack where Harry was. He had to remind himself that he was safely tucked beneath the invisibility cloak.

“You can come out now Potter, I know you’re there,” he called flatly. It dawns on Harry that Draco must have spotted him when he first entered the cabin. Then he knew Harry was there the whole time.

Harry hesitated before removing the cloak and stumbling into the seat across from Draco. Doing his best to maintain eye contact with the Slytherin, hoping to mask his nervousness and lingering hurt from the summer with a brave face. “I thought we were past using surnames, Draco.”

“I thought we were above sneaking around in invisibility cloaks to spy on one another,” Draco responded, his tone taking on a bit of an edge.

“You sent me a letter that told me to fuck off,” Harry said, “I figured that meant you wouldn’t care to see me.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed at that, now leaning forward in his seat as if to get closer to Harry.

“Harry,” Draco said, sounding almost breathless. “Is that what you thought I meant?”

The blond’s amusement only served to further infuriate Harry. He had read the letter hundreds of times, he refused to believe that it could’ve meant anything else. He wanted so badly to believe that it meant anything else.

Harry ripped the letter out of his pocket and threw it at Draco. The other caught it easily and flipped it between his fingers with ease.

“What else could it have meant?” Harry asked. “It’s right there, ‘Don’t try and write me.’”

“I believe I said ‘Don’t try and write me over the summer,” Draco corrected with raised brows. His apparent amusement only rattling Harry further. It reminded Harry of a conversation between the two of them in third year, Draco did have a habit of remembering the things they said verbatim.

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that you live with your godfathers and no doubt get to send whatever letters you’d like to your friends,” Draco supplied. “I live at the Manor, with the Dark Lord and a number of his supporters, and anything I receive is vetted by them.”

Harry was shocked into silence. It was a more honest answer than he’d expected.

“Harry,” Draco called again when Harry failed to respond to his confession. “I told you I’d made a decision, and I did… Harry, I choose you.”

If that was meant to make speaking any easier for Harry, it did not. He could feel the way the pace of his heart began to race and his mouth went dry. Exerting far more effort than the single word should have demanded, he managed to say, “what?”

A smile had stretched its way across Draco’s face, “I choose you,” he repeated.

“Why not just write that?” Harry asked, exasperation seeping into his voice. Harry looked at the floor as he ran a hand through his hair. He felt like laughing at himself for all the sleepless nights he’d spent fretting over the boy. How many hours did he spend this summer heartbroken over a misinterpretation?

“I’ve made my decision, but I also still live at the Manor, I have a family to protect. I couldn’t risk putting a declaration like that in writing, yet,” Harry wanted to understand, he thought that he might. The concern still lingered in his mind, keeping this a secret meant Draco might change his decision.

“Okay,” the syllables falling slowly from Harry’s lips.

“Since evidently my message was not clear,” Draco continued, now assuming its usual teasing lilt. The one Harry had grown fond of over the last few years. “Allow me to clarify the sentiment not overtly expressed in my letter.”

Harry inclined his head in question. Firstly, baffled at the insinuation that any sentiment expressed in the letter had been overt. Then, entirely unsure what else Draco would’ve wanted to say to him. Was it about the injuries he’d seen on Harry? Had it been about Lucious Malfoy’s trial?

“The last time we spoke,” Draco began, taking a long pause to consider the words he was about to say. “You mentioned that you wanted to kiss me.”

Harry’s breath audibly caught, he found himself nodding slowly, trying his best to wait for Draco to say whatever it was he was trying to say. He hoped endlessly that Draco’s next words would be without disgust or malice. Dumbledore’s interruption had allowed Harry to flee without reconning with the consequences of his admission. Now he took a moment to consider all the possible responses Draco might have, none of them good.

“Stop panicking,” Draco said lightly, as he moved to sit next to Harry. Long pale fingers tucked the letter into his pocket and then reached out to brush Harry’s cheek. “I was just going to confess that I’d like that too.”

Harry couldn’t help the nervous laughter that poured out of him. In all of his musing over the summer, and admiring of Draco before that, he had never allowed himself to consider this. That Draco might want him back and admit it to Harry out loud.

Harry didn’t miss the way Draco’s hand lingered on his cheek. He took this as an invitation to rest his forehead against Draco’s and reach his own hand up to the nape of Draco’s neck.

“Is this okay?” Harry asked in a whisper. He had caught himself thinking about running his fingers through the fine blond hair so many times in the past, that now as his fingers brushed the ends of the hair at the base of Draco’s neck… he was not entirely convinced that this wasn’t a dream.

“Harry?” Draco asked. Harry’s eyes snapped open, unaware that he’d let them drift shut already.

“Yeah?”

“Just kiss me,” Draco said around a chuckle.

And who was Harry to deny him? He leaned in and sealed their lips gently, insistent on cherishing the moment. Draco’s lips were soft and pliant under Harry’s. One of Draco’s hands slipped into Harry’s unruly hair, while the other now rested on Harry’s chest.

Harry relished the way Draco’s nose nudged against Harry’s as they caught their breath before quickly pressing their lips back together. Harry’s tongue traced Draco’s upper lip they heard the clatter of students down the corridor as the train pulled to a stop.

“We should probably get going,” Draco admitted, nose still brushing Harry’s.

“Probably,” Harry supplied, although in this moment it was just about the last thing he wanted to do.

Draco stood slowly, pulling his things down from the rack and then racing to pull his robes on over his clothes. “You should probably go grab your things.”

“Probably,” Harry admitted again distantly, reluctant to actually move.

Draco laughed as he reached a hand out and pulled Harry to his feet. His large palm warm against Harry’s, his mind raced as he tried to catalog every detail he possibly could. Harry’s knee caught and he stumbled into the other’s chest. The two were about the same height, and Draco caught him easily.

“Have I left the great Boy Who Lived, out of sorts?” Draco teased.

This time Harry laughed. “Don’t let it go to your head,” Harry said as straightened and made for the door. Draco’s hand didn’t drop where it had caught the small of Harry’s back, knotted in the red fabric.

Harry turned back to face him confused before Draco was leaning in for one last soft peck. “See you in the Great Hall,” Draco assured him.

Harry nodded, his smile big enough that it almost hurt, but he couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to. “Yeah, see you,” he said dumbly before racing back to his cabin where Ron had been gathering Harry’s belongings for him.

“What’s got you smiling like an idiot?” Ron asked. Harry could tell that Ron had grown familiar with the more reserved Harry of the past summer, and was pleasantly surprised to see Harry so happy.  

He wasn’t sure what it all meant yet, but Draco had made him feel like this hadn’t been a one-time thing, and hopefully, that meant that he’d be able to talk about it with Ron. Until he clarified though, he didn’t want to say.

“Nothing,” Harry said, his smile staying firmly in place. He knew Ron wasn’t fooled but he didn’t push for any more information and Harry was grateful.

***

The feast was eventful. Needless to say, Harry still found the time to admire Draco from across the room between the shock of Slughorn teaching Potions and Snape transferring to DADA, to Dumbledore’s withering hand, and general excitement of the opening feast.

Everyone sat with their own houses for the opening feast and Draco was a Prefect so he had to lead the first years to the dormitories immediately after, which meant Harry didn’t actually get to see him just yet.

Harry reflected back on his failed relationship with Cho last year. He remembered having thought at the time that your first kiss with any person was bound to be a bit awkward. That it would take time to get it right. He’d been wrong. So very wrong.

Hermione was leading the first years to the Gryffindor tower when Ron fell back to keep pace with Harry. 

“I know this summer was rough,” Ron said quietly to Harry, “you know that I’m here if you ever need to talk.”

“I know,” Harry said, but he appreciated the reminder and gave Ron’s shoulder a jovial shove.  

***

The next day after receiving their timetables, Harry was fortunate enough to have a free period before DADA. He found himself wondering if a certain Slytherin he knew also shared this free period.

“Want to play chess?” Ron asked, also having a free period to start.

“I might catch up with you in a bit Ron,” Harry said, “but I need to go check on something.”

Ron offered him a knowing smile and headed to the common room. Harry lingered in the corridor outside the Great Hall. He found a spot that seemed fairly well hidden and waited.

Draco was one of the last students to leave the Great Hall and as he passed Harry pulled him into an obscured alcove and cast a disillusionment charm to help hide them.

“Hi,” Harry breathed.

“Hi,” Draco said. The grin pushed his sharp cheekbones up as his eyes brightened. Harry wanted to be the reason for this expression from Draco every single day.

“I missed you,” Harry confessed as he reached his hand out to cup the other boy’s face and stroke his cheek with his thumb. It seemed any semblance of a brain-to-mouth filter was too much to hope for.

Draco leaned ever so slightly into the touch, “you’re such a sap.”

“Do you mind?” Harry asked, trying his best not to sound like Draco’s answer would make a difference to him.

“Not at all,” Draco replied. Harry felt two hands solidly grasp his waist. “I like it,” he went on to admit, voice a touch more timid.

Harry stared into the eyes of the boy who had been the center of his thoughts for the longest time. “Want to go on a walk with me?” Harry asked, his thumb still running aimlessly back and forth over Draco’s cheek.

“Already grown tired of kissing me?” Draco asked, and it sounded teasing, but Harry could feel Draco holding his breath. To prove him wrong Harry leaned in and kissed Draco soundly, feeling the other boy relax against him before drawing back to meet his gaze.

“Of course not,” Harry assured him. “I just want you to know that I want more than just that.”

Draco pulled away slightly, disconnecting their tangle of limbs. “What do you mean?”

Harry no longer knew what to do with his hand when they weren’t holding Draco. Logically he knew it was far too soon for thoughts like that. The realization was concerning, he didn’t want to scare Malfoy away, but he also wanted to be honest. He’d spent too much time over the summer crestfallen over the contents of the letter to allow any further miscommunications.

“I know that you’re probably not ready to be seen around school with me yet… not in this capacity,” Harry said with a gesture between them. He worried using any type of label might scare Draco off, so he tried to explain it. “And I get that. I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you with this next bit, I just want to be honest. When I say I want more, I mean I want to know what your favourite colour is, I want to play quidditch with you, I want to figure out all the quickest ways to make you laugh, and maybe hold your hand if you’ll let me.”

“You really are a sap,” Draco said relaxing as he shoved Harry playfully. “Such a bloody Gryffindor.”

“Will you go on a walk with me?” Harry asked again hopefully. “I’ll leave the disillusionment charm up and we can go to the lake.”

Draco nodded just a touch too quickly and laced their fingers together. “Okay, let’s go.”

***

They may have lost track of time chatting and skipping stones (and maybe making out a bit too).

Now they were both a bit late to Defense Against the Dark Arts with Severus Snape. They agreed Harry would enter the room first, Draco following a few minutes later, as Snape was more likely to be lenient with him.

Snape had been discussing his belief that most of the class would not manage to keep up with the advanced NEWT coursework when Harry shuffled in and hurried to the seat beside Ron.

“Ah, Harry Potter, why am I not surprised?” Snape sneered, “20 points from Gryffindor. If any of you are hoping to suspend the belief that you have a chance getting a NEWT in this course, it would suit you well take it seriously and show up on time.”

Five minutes later Draco strode into the classroom. Harry had seen the Slytherins get away with all kinds of things in Potions in previous years, and so it came as a shock to everyone when Snape stopped speaking.

“Draco Malfoy, I’ll see you after class,” Snape said before resuming with his lecture. Potter took great pride in the delivery of his there’s no need to call me ‘sir’, Professor, and thought the detention he’d earned for it was well worth it. All the more so, for the amusement alight in Draco’s eyes when their gazes caught across the room.

Except, at the end of class when Draco tried to slip out, Snape caught him and deducted 30 points from Slytherin. Ron almost choked and Hermione bumped into a now frozen Harry in the doorway.

“Potter, if you would exit my classroom, please,” Snape snapped, and Harry’s friends pulled him into the hallway.

Harry’s attempts at lingering around the dungeons did not go unnoticed.

“Why Harry, are you trying to spy on someone?” Pansy asked. Her tone was teasing, and Harry wasn’t sure if she wanted to know, or if she already did and was simply giving him a hard time.

“It’s only the first day of class, who could he possibly need to spy on?” Ron asked. His ton equally teasing but the knowing edge was back.

“You know you can tell us anything right?” Hermione asked, making it clear that all three of them knew exactly what they were doing.

Harry gave up any pretenses of following them upstairs and leaned against the stone wall of the corridor, waiting for Malfoy to finish talking with Snape catch up.

“You’ll know when there’s something to tell,” Harry brushed off.

“Liar,” Pansy cut in. “I saw you two on the train.”

“And she told me about it,” Hermione admitted.

“I caught on all on my own,” Ron boasted. Hermione nudged him. “Okay Hermione told me, but I’d already figured it out by then I swear!”

Harry was a mix between amused and annoyed. “I appreciate your interest in my love life, and I won’t complain about snogging Draco on the train, but I was kind of hoping things would be a bit more official before I told you.”

His friends had plenty of time to tease him about his growing crush before Draco caught up. He couldn’t imagine what the Professor could’ve needed to talk with the young Malfoy about for so long. Or at least he had plenty of experience concocting theories about Snape's affiliation with the Death Eaters, but he didn’t want to let those thoughts anywhere near Draco. Not now.

“How’d it go?” Harry asked. Trying his best to ignore the intrigued looks of his friends from just behind him.

“I’ll be joining you in detention,” Draco said, and Harry could tell that he wasn’t telling the whole story. He just wasn’t sure if it was his place to call the other boy on it.

“We should really be headed to potions now,” Hermione pointed out. Everyone agreed. It seemed, however, that everyone was still thinking about the discussion they’d had before Draco had shown up.

“So, Malfoy, I overheard that you made a new friend on the train over,” Ron said, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“You must’ve heard wrong Weasley,” Draco said, and Harry tried not to care. “I was kissing Harry on the train, and I’d hope you realize that isn’t usual friend behaviour given your own close personal friendship with Harry. I don’t do well with sharing.”

Harry’s legs had stopped working. Everyone had kept walking for a moment before realizing their friend was frozen.

“Harry, mate, you okay?” Ron asked.

“What? Yeah, couldn’t be better,” Harry said. As he caught up Draco’s arm wrapped its way around Harry’s shoulder and Harry beamed.

“Is it okay that I—” Draco had begun to ask quietly in Harry’s ear. Harry’s head turned quickly in his direction and they were close enough that Harry could appreciate the curl of long blond eyelashes.

“Yeah—” he breathed. “Really okay, great actually.”

Draco bit his lip. “Good,” he said around a grin.

Harry was almost distracted enough that he’d miss the timing of Draco dropping his arm and creating strategic space between them as they turned the corner to approach their potions class.

***

“Harry, you cannot keep that book,” Hermione scolds quietly. Doing her best not to draw the attention of the other Gryffindors at dinner.

“What book?” Pansy asked. Causing Hermione to jump as her girlfriend asked from behind them. The chatter of surrounding students having drowned out her approach. The Slytherin laughed as she kissed Hermione’s cheek.

The bigger surprise to Harry was the blond that stood next to her when he turned to greet Pansy.

“Is this seat taken?” Draco asked, gesturing to the bench next to Harry. The Gryffindor hurried to make more space for Draco before the other could change his mind.

“Harry’s found a potions book with notes in the margins,” Ron cut in from the other side of the table to answer Pansy’s questions.

“I found one like that once,” Pansy admitted. “In transfigurations. It was filled with doodles and the thoughts of a student that was evidently crushing a bit strongly on McGonagall.”

“As fascinating as that is that’s not the kind of notes I meant,” Ron said with a roll of his eyes and Pansy stuck her tongue out at him in response. Harry was still getting used to the fact that Pansy staying with the Weasleys over the summer meant that the two acted like petty siblings with each other a fair amount of the time.

“It has brewing instructions that contradict the contents of the textbook,” Hermione contradicted. “He needs to replace it.”

“It seemed to serve Harry well enough in class today,” Draco observed.

“Of course, you’d say that,” Hermione said, still set on Harry disposing of the book. Harry himself wasn’t sure if Hermione’s dig was aimed at Draco’s moral character or his involvement with Harry. Either way, he sent Hermione a sharp look.  

“You really want to get rid of it?” Pansy asked. “You should be looking into the recommendations and implement them, possibly look for larger patterns you can apply across brewing.”

“It’s cheating!” Hermione insisted.

“It’s like having a tutor,” Draco replied. “Tons of students study with them over the summer and have professionals, like licensed potioneers, review best brewing practices. That’s probably what the notes are from.”

By the end of dinner, everyone agreed Harry could keep the book but it would be tested for magical interference and its amendments would be reviewed as a group.

Just as the discussion was coming to a close the table grew quiet around them. Harry noticed Ron’s stare was lingering over Harry’s shoulder, so he turned to see what had happened.

“Hello, how lovely to see students from even the most historically antagonistic houses, getting on so splendidly,” Dumbledore observed with a smile that appeared too sincere for the odd words he’d uttered.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, how are you?” Ron asked, sounding off-balance.

“Wonderful, thank you for asking Ronald,” he replied, and Harry could sense his best friend cringe at the use of his full name. “Why, if I only had some Acid Pops on hand, I might endeavor to say perfect.”

It was an odd thing to say, but Harry was familiar with the Headmaster’s habit of making his office password different magical treats and made sure to file Acid Pops away in his brain.

“Harry, I’m afraid I’ve once again misplaced my spectacles. I know you have a habit of discovering them, so please do drop by it you come across them,” he asked warmly before turning to continue his journey out of the great hall.

“Do you think he’s losing his mind?” Ron asked.

“Not a chance. He’s one of the greatest wizards of our time,” Hermione dismissed.

“He was wearing his glasses as he was speaking to us!” Ron insisted.

Harry shrugged, he had a feeling that Dumbledore always knew exactly where all his things were. In a similar sense to the way that one might be familiar with pieces on a chessboard. “He’s a bit unconventional,” Harry said. “We should probably head out.”

Harry tried not to relish too much in the way Draco’s hand brushed his on the way out of the dining hall. The action should be insignificant next to the kisses they’ve shared, but it still felt important.

“Goodnight Harry,” Draco said in a hushed voice, just to him and then the group split in half traveling to different dorms. Harry found that he distantly longed for the cool air of the dungeons, and the company it kept.

***

Every look Harry and Draco shared that weekend at detention served only to further infuriate Snape. It turned out that detention really wasn’t all that bad with Draco present. Even when we're sorting out the rotten Flobberworms from the good ones.

“You might find this easier if you were actually looking at the Flobberworms,” Draco teased the third time he caught Harry looking at him. Harry didn’t think it was fair to be blamed when he hadn’t managed a moment with Draco, away from prying eyes, since classes had started on Monday.

“You know I hadn’t thought of that,” Harry said, letting himself lean toward Draco enough to bump shoulders. Only taking satisfaction in the way Snape’s eyes narrowed and jaw tightened.

It turned out that picking Flobberworms out of the same barrel also made for a great excuse to accidentally touch the other boy’s hand. Sorting the Flobberworms without gloves was a bit gross, but it was a part no doubt a part of Snape’s amusement that he’d made them complete the task without the accessory.

After detention, Snape asked Draco to stay back. The Professor must’ve cast a muffilato, as even with his ear pressed to the door from the hallway, he could not hear a single sound. Luckily Harry had given up and reclined against the opposite wall as he waited, as Draco abruptly stepped into the hall with an aggressive swing of the door.

Harry would’ve been endlessly embarrassed if Draco had caught him snooping.

Words drifted out of the room with the hurried blond. “You need to understand what is at stake,” Snape’s voice carried.

Draco didn’t even turn to acknowledge the Professor, simply snagged Harry’s wrist and pulled the bespeckled boy after him.

When it was clear Draco was making more than a hasty exit, Harry asked where he was leading them.

“It’s a surprise,” Draco said, tossing a reassuring grin over his shoulder at Harry as he continued to pull them further into the maze of the dungeons.

Harry found himself in the middle of a room lined with shelves. There was a lone desk set up, and in the low light of the dungeon, the place felt ominous. Draco looked at him expectantly.

“Is this… a top-secret extra restricted section?” Harry guessed lamely.

An elegant, unimpressed eyebrow rose in response. “Really?”

“Just tell me then!”

“This is where Hogwarts stores its administrative documents, ledgers, staff files, donor records, original floorplans, information about the forbidden forest, some heritage records, just stuff like that,” Draco admitted with a shrug.

“How would I have known that?” Harry demanded with one more glance around the room. “Why are we even here?”

Harry had been looking at the lamp on the desk flicker when he felt a hand grip his waist and twist him to face the owner of said hand. “No one else comes here, the lower years think the room is cursed, and the upper years know that there's nothing interesting in here.”

“Why would they think this place was cursed?” Harry asked.

“Because I told them that anytime someone entered the room, the records would steal their dearest memory,” Draco said with far too little concern. “What? It’s nice to have a quiet place to think, and they aren’t missing out on much.”

“And we’re here because…” Harry trailed off.

“Like I said, no one comes here,” Draco repeated, smile turning devious as he inched closer to Harry.

Harry hummed his understanding as he found his hands drifting to Draco’s shoulders. And Harry wants Draco to kiss him, knows that he’s about too, but there’s something equally intoxicating about this moment. About being in his arms, the two a breath away and basking in the way Draco looks at him.

Draco is gentler than Harry expected when he kisses him. Harry had just been dragged in a hurry to this odd, dusty room, and now he’s being kissed like he’s important. Not ‘The Boy Who Lived’ important, he doesn’t think he’d like that very much. No, Draco kisses Harry like he’s the only good thing that matters to him. Like he’s afraid to let go.

In response, Harry’s doing his best to soak it all in. He wraps himself around Draco as best he can, and then he stumbles. Draco takes this as an invitation to back them into the nearest shelf, and a thrill runs up Harry’s spine at the feeling of folders rattling behind him. And part of him wants to let it keep happening, but he isn’t sure that Draco is interested in more than the physical side of things; Harry knows that once they cross that line he can’t go back. Once they cross that line Draco might move on, but Harry’s fairly certain that he won’t be able to.

Harry wants a relationship.

So he ducks his head when he goes to catch his breath and does his best to put a bit of distance between them. Which is difficult considering his back is pressed against a bookshelf.

“Harry?” Draco asked. It’s quiet even though there’s no one else around to hear them.

“Draco.” His eyes are tracing the laces of his own shoes.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Draco asked, his voice no louder than before.

“Nothing,” Harry said, but it comes out too quickly. He’s in a mad dash for any topic that’ll fit. “I just—what did Snape want to talk to you about?”

It’s not what he’d meant to ask, but Harry is quick to lift his gaze. Harry wants to see Draco’s reaction to the question.

Draco’s face is blank, Harry has no doubt that the restraint is intentional. “Really, that’s what you want to talk about right now?”

“It’s only the first week and he’s already pulled you aside twice,” Harry said, ignoring the question about timing entirely.

“So, he’s my godfather, it’s not unusual that he talks to me.” It’s the kind of sweeping generalization that Harry’s familiar enough with making, to know that it doesn’t tell the whole story.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Harry said, in an effort to backtrack. “I’m just curious.”

“You always were a nosy brat,” Draco said, but some of the tension eases out of his shoulders.

Harry takes the moment to bump his nose against Draco’s playfully.

“That’s true,” Harry admits, “yet here we are, speaks to your taste doesn’t it?”

“I have immaculate taste,” Draco leans in to say in Harry’s ear, tone challenging. Then he leans down to kiss Harry’s neck briefly, not enough to mark, but he proves a point. Harry’s too distracted to decipher what the point is, but he can hardly complain.

Then Draco takes Harry’s hand and leads him to sit on the desk’s surface. Draco is quick to sit next to him.

Draco’s eyes are lazily dragging over the contents of the shelves across the room as he begins to speak. “Severus is concerned about our relationship.”

“You’re in a relationship with Snape?” Harry asks, it’s a joke because he’s trying to process the fact that Draco just called this a relationship. Then trying to decide why Snape thought he had any right speaking on there, whatever it was that they were. He has to take a deep breath and remind himself that he hasn’t heard the whole story yet and bounding into Snape’s office to start an argument is likely a bad idea.

Laughter echoes around the dim space when Draco attempts to shove him off the desk. “No, you know what I meant … us.”

“And we are … in a relationship?” Harry hated that he needed to ask, but he figures that he wasn’t the first one to use the word so it’s probably alright.

“We’re not nothing,” Draco admitted. If any announcement that cryptic could be counted as an admission, that is.

Harry finds himself nodding slowly, not that Draco is looking at him to see the gesture. “And why, exactly, does Snape feel he’s entitled to comment on our not nothing?” Harry asked.

For awhile the room was filled with the slow, absent-minded tap of Draco’s fingers against the desk as he thought.

“You’re Harry Potter,” Draco started, and Harry could already feel his defenses rising. “The entire magical world is watching you, and I am Draco Malfoy, which means that the Dark Lord and his followers are closely watching me.”

“Pretty sure he’s watching me too,” Harry pointed out.

“Exactly, he lives at the Manor Harry. If he finds out… then not only will he use me as a weapon against you, but he’ll use my family as a weapon against me,” Draco admitted. As he spoke his head dropped to inspect the floor, and Harry took the opportunity to reach up and run his fingers through the blond hair at the base of his neck. He had a feeling that Draco was very concerned about Harry’s reaction and he hoped the gesture conveyed his support.

“Then he won’t find out,” Harry said.

Draco shook his head minutely and then shifted further into Harry’s gentle touch as he turned to face him. “It’s not that simple if anyone in the school starts talking… you know it’ll make headlines in the prophet. And at that point, it’s out of our hands.”

“Then this stays between us… and Hermione, Pansy, and Ron—I think it might be too late to hide anything from them,” Harry insisted.

“And you’d be okay with that?” Draco asked, and he looked like the answer had the power to break him.

“Of course,” Harry assured. Then he pulled Draco into a hug, and they stayed like that for a while, holding each other together.

***

Harry woke to find a familiar pair of spectacles resting on top of the Potions book placed on his bedside table. He tucks them in his pocket with the intention of returning them later in the day.

All anyone can seem to talk about is the impending quidditch tryout, and with Harry making the captain spot this year, everyone wants to try and get in his good graces.

It well-intentioned, but it's more attention than usual, and that bar is already high enough as it is. It also means that Draco is keen to keep to himself, which is perhaps the most frustrating part of it all.

Harry makes his escape to Dumbledore’s office just after dinner. Acid Pops was the password, and Harry tried not to feel too proud about his correct hypothesis.

“You’ve found them, Harry,” Dumbledore observed as he poured two cups of tea. “How excellent, please, take a seat.”

All of the portraits in the room appeared to be staring, it felt more ominous than Harry remembered. “Good evening, sir. Thank you,” Harry said, as he took the tea offered to him.

“Of course, I hope you don’t mind, but I was actually hoping to discuss something with you,” the Headmaster said, and Harry nodded his understanding. “I would like us to begin private lessons, now that you know about the prophecy, it is time you learn a bit more about Voldemort’s circumstances.”

“At the end of last term, you said that you’d told me everything, sir,” Harry pointed out. Doing his best to keep a level head.He understood that things were complicated, but he didn’t appreciate being lied to, not by one of the few people he trusted so completely.

“And I did tell you everything that I knew with certainty,” Dumbledore said. “But that still leaves a great deal to consider, and Harry I do understand that you were in recovery this summer. Now, however, it is time that we get to work.”

“What exactly do you mean … there are things you are uncertain of?”

“From this point foreword we will be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wild guesswork,” Dumbledore said. As if any of the words he was saying offered a clear meaning to the boy in front of him. “From hereon in, Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Fletcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron.”

“But you think you are right?” Harry asked.

“Naturally I do, but as I have proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being—forgive me—rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger.”

“Mistakes?” it’s not what Harry had meant to say. He had wanted to ask about the prophecy about the relation of these theories to things that he did know. His mind had just gotten stuck on the word. Mistakes.

Dumbledore had mentioned Harry taking time to recover this summer, did he think that was a mistake? Dumbledore’s own hand seemed to look more like a fractured shadow of its former self—given the weeks that’d stretched since Harry first saw it—could it not be fixed? Was that the result of a mistake?

Harry was not naïve enough to discount the fact that he idolized the older wizard. The Headmaster had no doubt lived a long and eventful life, and yet Harry had never really considered the man capable of mistakes.

“It’s a rather objective term, isn’t it?” Dumbledore asked. “For instance, this morning I had an enlightening conversation with Professor Slughorn about the regulation of mood-altering potions by the Ministry. Some people would consider that a rather poor use of their time, to speculate about a thing beyond their control. As for the subject matter, it is a topic that has the masses deeply divided.”

As much as Harry had sympathy for anyone who was roped into an extended conversation with Professor Slughorn, it was yet another generalization. It was an answer in the sense that he’d strung together semi-relevant words, but not in the way of actually needing to make an admission.

“That’s very interesting,” Harry said, “but with all due respect, I am not sure it’s fair to compare a mistake with a difference of opinion.”

“You do not think that the existence of divisive topics, of which there are two polarizing stances, makes way for ill-informed people to spend a majority of their energy fighting for a cause they do not fully understand?” Dumbledore asked from over the rim of his teacup, supported by both hands.

“I feel like we’re having two different conversations, sir,” Harry admitted.

Dumbledore nodded and then took a moment to sip his tea. “Ah that would make sense,” Dumbledore observed. “I am attempting to convey to you that there are two sides of this war. In the fallout of the last war, many of the individuals on the other side attempted to convince the public that had come to understand the error of their ways. However, their current conduct has made it clear that they never truly believed they were in the wrong.”

Harry nodded. Although he didn’t think he required a lecture on the moral failings of those that fought for blood purity. Further, he could not help but feel like Dumbledore explaining a cryptic statement felt out of place.

“I understand,” Harry said. “I was asking about your mistakes, Headmaster.”

Albus Dumbledore seemed to consider Harry for a long moment. “I think you will find, Harry, that many people would prefer not to discuss their greatest failings,” and as he says it, Harry detects for the first time a sharpness to the wizard across from him. “I will, however, recognize that in my youth I allowed myself to be misled, and in doing so my earlier statement might be construed as hypocritical.”

They sat in reluctant silence. Harry wasn’t sure what to make of Dumbledore’s statement. Nor was he sure of which statement Dumbledore was referring to in the moment.

“Shall we begin the lesson?” Harry asked and Dumbledore relaxed back into the person Harry was familiar with.

***

“And so Dumbledore is wearing his dad’s ring?” Ron asked.

“You can just say Voldy, Ron,” Pansy said with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “Might be the cause of the state of his hand too.”

They were currently in the room of requirement. It was the day after Harry’s lesson with Dumbledore, and Hermione, Ron, Pansy, and Draco had all agreed to meet there. For their purposes, it was a cozy room with comfortable seating. Pansy was laying down with her head in Hermione’s lap, Ron had a loveseat to himself, and Harry sat almost close enough to touch Draco on another sofa.

“The ring must have been cursed, but I’d have to look into what specific curse it could’ve been,” Hermione said. Harry had a feeling that if Pansy wasn’t currently attached to her, Hermione might’ve gone rifling through her bag to find a book to consult.

“Do you think he was right though?” Harry asked. “Do you think me taking time away from things this summer was a mistake?”

“Not a chance Harry,” Ron said. “You needed time to recover. Plus, it wasn’t as if we weren’t still looking into things, not much else you could’ve done at that point.”

“What?” Harry asked, and he felt Draco’s hand smooth over his knee to calm him.

“We knew that if we told you, you’d insist on helping. We all agreed that you had more important things to focus your energy on,” Hermione said quickly. “We weren’t able to pin down the relationship between you, your scar, and he who must not be named—but we have developed a few interesting theories about the Dark Lord.”

“I had Blaise send me books over the summer, and we decided to look into how Voldemort managed to come back,” Pansy said.

“He was drinking unicorn blood,” Harry dismissed.

“But he was killed Harry, how was there a part of him left to do that?” Pansy prompted. “That’s not something anyone can just do, safeguards would need to have been developed in advance.”

“And you know what that safeguard is?” Harry asked.

“There are couple ways that we managed to look into,” Hermione said, “but the only one that made any sense in this context was a Horcrux.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked. He felt Draco’s grip tighten around his knee.

“It’s dark magic,” Draco supplied. Harry knew he hadn’t been involved in any of the group’s research over the summer and must have come across this information some other way. “Very dark.”

“It essentially allows the wizard to split a part of their soul into an object,” Pansy said. Then Hermione explained that the issue was the process was not well documented. They had only managed to find three books that even mentioned the term and none of them went into anything resembling specifics.  

“In order to split one’s soul they have to diminish their own humanity,” Draco explained. “In order to create one, the wizard must commit murder.”

“How do you know that?” Hermione asked. “None of the books ever specified that the cost had to be murder.”

“If you recall, I said a lot of students get tutors over the summer,” Draco reminded. “I am one of those students.”

“And they were teaching you obscure dark magic?” Ron asked, sounding doubtful.

“I don’t pick the tutors, my father does. It’s really not all that surprising,” Draco brushed off. Harry could feel his grip tightening again though. Harry knew that the implication was that he’d picked up a lot of other dark magic as well. He looked up at Draco who looked as if he were scared Harry would pull away.

“Makes sense,” Harry admitted, and Draco instantly relaxes. Harry covers Draco’s hand with his own and squeezed back. “It’s helpful too, you knowing things.”

They made a game plan for research and then fell back into studying. Everyone passed Harry’s potions book around to prepare for the upcoming chapters in the syllabus.

He noticed Draco laugh at the notes, but brushed it off when Harry asked him about it.

***

“To Ron,” It echoed from everyone in the room of requirement the following week. Ron had made the quidditch team and they were all celebrating. Pansy had snuck them a bottle of firewhiskey.

 “Just wait, we’re going to kick your team’s ass,” Ron boasted to the two Slytherins in the room.

“You wish,” Pansy shot back.

It wasn’t their first shot, and the room was a bit hazy for Harry. He had his bearings, but Harry had never had alcohol before. He put his glass down and decided to cut himself off for the rest of the night.

Harry felt the arms slip around his waist from behind as a warm body pressed up behind him. “Feeling good about your chances first match? I hear the Slytherin seeker is half-decent,” Draco asked, his breath a warm whisper against Harry’s ear.

Harry pivoted, pressed both of his palms onto Draco’s firm chest, and leaned in to whisper, “I think I can take him.”

The pair laughed and Harry felt Draco’s other hand lift to rest on his hip, thumb stroking the exposed shin where Harry’s jumper had ridden up.

“No! Tonight’s about me,” Ron announced. “I refuse to fifth wheel—hands to yourselves.”

Therein lied the problem. Harry wanted to have with Draco what Pansy and Hermione had. For weeks now Draco and Harry had snuck around and kissed privately, but Harry wanted a relationship. He found that the longer Draco avoided the conversation, the less likely they would ever get to be anything.

So, after Ron made his declaration, it was Harry that pulled away from Draco. He went to stand next to his best friend Ron, played the redhead in a poor attempt at chess, and joked with him until Hermione said she thought it was time they snuck back to their respective common rooms.

“Goodnight Harry,” Draco said, trying to lean into Harry, but he didn’t let the blond get too close.

“Night,” Harry said.

Harry could see the wheels turning in Draco’s head, but he didn’t stick around long enough to let the boy ask about it.

***

“So, what was the other night about?” Ron asked as the pair made their way back up to the castle after quidditch practice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry said.

“Harry, you were glued to my side that whole night,” Ron said. “I’m not complaining, you’re my best mate, but I think we all noticed that you were avoiding Malfoy and have been ever since.”

“What, that’s crazy—no…alright,” Harry caved, his friend’s concerned expression never wavering. “I just don’t think we want the same things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to date Draco,” Harry admitted, “and I think he just likes kissing me.”

Ron’s head tipped back as he laughed. His hand reaching out to clap Harry on the back. “Harry, the boy is crazy about you.”

“No way,” Harry said, finding his arms were crossing defensively and pretended it was to ward off the chill. “Then why hasn’t he said anything?”

“Why haven’t you said anything?” Ron asked.

“I did,” Harry insisted. “When this all started, I told him I wanted more.”

“Did you specify that more meant dating?” Ron asked.

“No.”

Ron shook his head at his best friend, but the beginnings of a smile were forming on his face. “Then maybe you should get on that.”

Harry nodded slowly. He wasn’t sure how he was going to go about it. At this rate though, he could ever keep avoiding Draco indefinitely, or he could dawn some Gryffindor courage and take a risk.

***

Harry was going to have the talk with Draco. Really, he was. He just wasn’t sure how yet.

So maybe it had been a few more days. Draco had been hanging around them as often as he could since Ron had made the Quidditch team. Harry was polite, or as best as he could be whilst maintaining his distance.

“Harry!”

He’d been seated at the edge of the lake, Transfigurations textbook propped open next to him. As if to convince himself that he was doing anything other than glaring at the lone duck swimming lazy laps at the edge of the pond next to Harry. His mind occupied entirely by the boy that’d just called his name.

“Draco,” Harry said, looking over his shoulder at the boy he’d tried so hard not to miss.

Draco collapsed next to Harry, half out of breath. Harry wanted to reach out and lay a reassuring hand on Draco’s shoulder, but resisted.

“You okay?”

“Give me a minute,” Draco said, words caught between deep shuddering breaths.

“Did you run here?” Harry asked.

Draco’s glare made it clear to Harry that the answer should have been obvious. Then again, he had asked more out of shock and disbelief than anything else. Still, when Draco caught his breath, he replied. “Of course I ran here! I had to catch you before you could sneak off.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he sat and stared at the red flush that’d taken over Draco’s complexion. No doubt a result of the running.

“Now you’re not going to speak to me? Spectacular,” Draco said, but his final sarcastic word made it sound as if he were at his wit's end.

“I haven’t stopped speaking to you,” Harry said. It was true, any time Draco had asked him something in the last several days, Harry had replied. He’d just also made sure he’d never been caught alone with Draco. Cause when they were alone, Harry tended to forget there were things he wanted to say.

Draco looked about ready to lose his mind. His legs drew into his chest as his arms linked around his raised knees. “So, what? You’ve grown bored of me and don’t even have the balls to say it to my face, not very Gryffindor of you, if you ask me.”

“I’m not bored of you.” The words were out of Harry’s mouth in an instant. He wasn’t even sure if such a thing could be possible. The very suggestion astounded Harry.

Somehow, this did not seem to reassure Draco in the least. “I don’t need you to lie to me, you’ve barely been able to look at me recently. You don’t need to spare my feelings. I—” Draco cut himself off. Harry watched the way Draco’s knuckles turned white as his grip tightened.

“I’m not lying,” Harry said.

“You are,” Draco insisted.

Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and exhaled. Green eyes met cloudy grey, and Harry steeled his nerves. “I really like you Draco. I really like you, and so I can’t keep doing this—”

“That makes no sense—”

“Let me speak,” Harry said, but he was amused at Draco’s impatience. Even if, in his nervousness, Harry felt a bit like his bones wanted to step out of his jittery skin. “I can’t keep stealing kisses in secret and acting like that’s enough. I said I wanted to get to know you, and I meant that. Draco, I want to date you. I get that you don’t want that, but I—I do.”

“When the fuck did I say that?” Draco asked. Hand’s pressing into the ground beside him as he shifted to face Harry more directly.

“You didn’t have to, any time I tried to hint at it you brushed me off.”

“I’m not great at talking about the things that I want, but I’ll get better at it. I want to be your boyfriend, Harry,” Draco said in a rush. “Sure, I’m not ready for the whole school to know yet… but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you. We can still date.”

“We can?” Harry asked in a whisper.

“Of course we can,” Draco assured him. A smile stretched across Draco’s angular face a second after a spark lit in his eyes. “Harry, would you please be my boyfriend?”

Harry tilted his head from side to side as if he were thinking about it. “Yeah, yes—I’d really like that.”

Draco laughed quietly as he pushed his forehead into Harry’s shoulder and called him an arsehole.

“I do want something,” Harry said. He wished he could reach out and settle his fingers in Draco’s hair, but knew that anyone could see them from any number of castle windows. “I want the letter you wrote me back.”

“Why?” Draco asked, sitting up quickly. “Didn’t that letter give you the wrong impression?”

“It’s dumb. I just want an actual thing I can hold onto that’ll remind me this is real,” Harry admitted, warmth flooding his cheeks. He wanted something to hold onto during sleepless nights, or on days that Draco kept his distance because Harry was swarmed by his peers as he had been before quidditch tryouts.

He’d been distracted enough by Draco on the train to forget to ask for it back at the time, and he’d found he missed it, particularly in the last few days.

“Okay,” Draco said, “but I want something of yours in return.”

“That letter was mine in the first place,” Harry argued, Draco arched a single eyebrow at the claim. “You wrote it to me, and I’d just like it back now, please?”

“You’ll have it back, as soon as you give me something of yours.”

Harry couldn’t deny that the idea of Draco having something of his was appealing. He’d only really been arguing in hopes of getting more from Draco in return, but he’d be happy with the letter. “Do you want anything specifically?”

“Surprise me,” Draco said with a shrug.

“Will do,” Harry said and ruffled the other’s hair, and was rewarded with a disgruntled glare.  

***

Harry was sitting in the quidditch stands with Ron, Pansy, and Hermione. Harry and Ron had run an impromptu private practice because Ron’s confidence had been a bit shaky in the last few group practices.

“I can’t believe that the first Hogesmeade’s trip is this weekend,” Ron mused. “The first month and a half has really flown by, hasn’t it?”

“Speaking of flying, I heard Harry set you aloft this morning,” Pansy said. “I wonder if I could work with the twins to create a taffy with a similar effect.”

Harry really wished people would stop bringing up this morning’s issue, especially in front of Hermione. “Harry, I know that we agreed your potions book was a good resource for brewing tips, but you really must stop trying the spells.”

“I will,” Harry assured her. He didn’t know how to admit to her that this morning had been an accident. Sure he’d been reading about the spell, and thought about casting it nonverbally as he played with his wand a bit mindlessly. That shouldn’t have been enough intention for the spell to cast, especially given it had been nonverbal and Harry hadn’t used any proper wand movements.

An admission like that would only have gotten him into more trouble with Hermione. All of his time was already filled by a combination of the ridiculous amount of work required for upcoming NEWTS, quidditch training, Horcrux research, and Draco. He didn’t want to add learn ‘how to control his magic’ to that list. Especially since it hadn’t really been a problem since he was 11.

“Harry?” Hermione’s disapproving voice insisted.

“I promise,” he said. She accepted this and turned her head to plan her Hogsmeade date with Pansy.

“You’ve seriously got to stick with me this weekend,” Ron said. “Those two won’t be around, and you can help me figure out how to win over Susan Bones.”

The Hufflepuff girl in their year had recently caught Ron’s eye. He had been Herbology, and Ron just knocked one of the second year’s mandrake pots off the edge of the counter with a stray elbow when entering the room. Susan caught the pot with a nonverbal charm and lifted it back onto the counter. It the pot had shattered, and the mandrake had started screaming, freed from its comfy dirt, Ron would’ve been toast. Especially if Sprout had noticed.

When Ron tells it, he swears Susan is his new hero.

“Don’t worry Ron. I’ll be there,” Harry said. He would be too, though he could admit to himself that he wished he could go on a date with Draco in Hogsmeade as well. Instead, Draco had apparently gotten detention with McGonagall. Even if he hadn’t, Harry knew they could never go out alone together in such a public place.

“Not to mention Ginny’s dating Dean now,” Ron said with a deep frown. “Can’t she pick a guy in her own year? We’ve roomed with Dean for six years, it’s just weird to think about.”

***

Ron was acting weird, and Harry couldn’t place why.

“Why does it matter what I wear?” Harry asked. He liked his Weasley sweater, and it was bound to be chilly on the walk to Hogsmeade, he should be allowed to wear warm clothes without Ron’s criticism.

“You’ve worn holes in the elbows from wearing it so much. Come on mate, just put on this one.” Getting the feeling Ron wasn’t about to back down, Harry reluctantly agreed, making the switch to a more fitted dark red turtleneck.

 They’d been debating what they should get at Honeydukes as the pair stepped out of the school’s front doors when an unexpected crack interrupted them.

Dobby’s big eyes blinked up at Harry. Harry worried for the elf standing in the cold without a proper jacket.

“Good to see you Dobby, how’re you?” Harry asked.

“Dobby is good, sir. Thank you,” Dobby said quickly and then he reached for Harry’s sleeve. “Dobby is needing Harry’s assistance in the kitchen.”

“Is everything alright Dobby?” Harry asked, concerned.

“You should probably go check it out,” Ron said with a shrug. Then he took something out of his jacket and tossed it to Harry. “Best put that in your pocket.”

Harry had just enough time to recognize the smooth stone and slip it into his back pocket before Dobby was pulling him back indoors, and in the direction of the kitchens.  

Harry still wasn’t sure what was going on when he watched Dobby tickle the pear and watched the portrait to the kitchen swing open. Everything seemed normal, except that the usually bustling kitchen turned silent at Harry’s arrival.

All of the house elves were looking at Harry and Dobby seemed not to notice the attention. He simply dragged Harry to a door at the back of the room that Harry had never paid attention to before. Inside the room, the curtains were drawn which explained the lighting. At its center, the room held an elegantly set table, with flowers, and stray candles floated around the room. Most notably, Draco stood next to the table and pulled out a seat for Harry who walked over to sit in the offered chair in a silent daze. Draco helped him slip off his coat and rest it over the back of his seat.

“I thought you were in detention,” Harry said as Draco stepped around the table to assume his own seat. Harry’s brain was still trying to process the fact that he appeared to be on a surprise date. His first-ever date with Draco Malfoy.

“I wanted you to think that I was in detention,” Malfoy said. “It made surprising you with this much easier.”

“Ron was in on this,” Harry realized. Remembering his best friend’s insistence that Harry look presentable.

“He was. Even the best of us need help,” Draco admitted. When silence continued to stretch, he continued. “I hope you don’t mind but I went ahead and picked out our meals.”

“I trust you,” Harry waved off. He had meant it to be about the food, but he could tell that the words carried more weight than that for them both. Harry took a moment to appreciate the faint blush just noticeable in the candlelight.

“Thank you,” Draco said, and the words hung in the air a moment. “You look handsome.”

“Thank you, Ron picked it out actually,” Harry admitted with an awkward laugh. Draco reached a hand across the table, palm up, and Harry grabbed it. His nerves settling slightly.

“To be fair, you’d look good in anything. Still, I’ll be sure to thank him,” Draco said, offering Harry’s hand a squeeze. “I don’t recognize the sweater.”

“Remus snuck some things in my trunk before we left. I didn’t even realize it until I got here and opened it. This sweater was one of those things,” Harry admitted. When Draco asked what else had been placed in his trunk Harry admitted to having received a boatload of chocolate, a few of Remus’ favourite novels (in case Harry got bored), and a new broom care kit from Sirius.

“It sounds like they really care about you,” Draco said.

“They do!” Harry insisted. And then he told Draco a bit about what life had been like in his last few summers with his godfathers. Harry cherished each laugh he managed to pull from Draco with stories of Sirius first adjusting to a muggle job, and then the trouble he got in when the order found out, Remus’ own success in building a career as an English teacher. Harry loved the way Draco listened and asked questions about why Remus would even take ‘Padfoot’ for occasional walks around the block, and about a dozen more details in other stories.

By the end of Harry’s stories, Draco asks Dobby if he can bring them their meals, and Harry realized they haven’t even eaten yet. He’s not sure how long he spoke for, but he knows it has been a while.

“What about before you lived with your godfathers… do you ever miss your aunt and uncle?” Draco asked.

“No,” Harry admitted. “They weren’t fond of me. If it’s alright, I’ve done quite a bit of talking, and I’d love to hear about you.”

“Of course,” Draco said. “Well, the first time I met Pansy was at a fundraising party when we were both four. All of us young kids had been left in a room with different magical toys to entertain us. A few house elves were watching us, but I talked one of them into letting me sneak into the kitchens to try the lemon tarts before dinner. Pansy heard my plan and threatened to throw a fit and get us all caught, so she joined us. We were wound up being partners in crime at each event after that.”

Draco went on to talk a bit more about his friendship with Pansy. That he used to spend a few weeks each summer at the Parkinson residence and Blaise usually tagged along (until last year when everything changed was left unsaid). A few stories were about his mother; including the time she’d caught him trying to befriend the peacocks at the manner and had almost had his eye poked out, the time she taught him to skip stones, and apparently, he’d once talked her into attempting to make crepes with him (it did not turn out well).

By the end of their meal, Dobby cleared their plates and Winky brought over treacle tart. Harry shouldn’t have been so surprised that Draco would know what his favourite dessert was.

“This is delicious,” Harry said as he finished his first bite of dessert. “This whole date has been amazing.”

Draco beamed at the praise. “It’s not over yet.”

Draco drew an envelope out of his pocket and passed it to Harry. “Open it later, okay?”

Harry nodded and tucked it into his pocket. In doing so his fingers brushed over the stone and he pulled it out and handed it to Draco who looked at it curiously.

“I know it seems silly,” Harry started. “But you asked for something of mine, and most of my things are too easily identifiable as mine—so you would’ve needed to hide them.”

Harry could tell that Draco was confused so he tried to back up and better explain things. “Do you remember in third year, that time you taught me to skip stones?”

“Yeah, you were terrible at it,” Draco supplied, but there was no denying the fondness in his voice.

“Well, I pocketed this stone back then… I used the charm Hermione developed for the DA coins, so I can send you short messages when I feel like it.”

Draco slowly flipped the small stone between his fingers. Harry slipped his hand to the handle of his wand and thought about the words he wanted to be imprinted on the stone.

Hope this is okay

“It’s brilliant,” Draco said, his eyes filled with wonder.

You’re brilliant

Draco took a sharp inhale as the new words replaced the old ones and Harry decided he’d leave those words for now.

When they’d finished their meal Draco summoned Winky and Dobby and the wizards thanked them. The house elves assured them that it was no problem and then apparated out of the room.

Draco rushed to pull Harry’s chair out for him and hand him his coat. The pair walked hand to hand to the room’s door. They hovered at inside the entry, in no rush to head back to their separate dorms.

“Thank you, again,” Harry said, reaching the hand not currently laced in Draco’s to pull Draco into a hug. They held each other tightly before Draco pulled back just enough to brush a soft kiss against Harry’s lips.

“Let’s do this again soon,” Draco said. Harry agreed, and then they both stepped out of the kitchen and headed in different directions.

***

Later that night, with his curtains drawn, Harry cast a lumos and opened his envelope.

Inside was the letter Harry had memorized, alongside a newer piece of parchment to Harry’s surprise.

Dearest Harry,

As I have expressed to you, the words I would like to say to you often allude me. I figured that this was an opportunity to right that.

I know that this might be hard to believe, but I have always rather looked up to you. I heard stories about you growing up and I’d always wished we could become friends. Meeting you was in no way what I had expected, but in hindsight, I wouldn’t have it any other way. We may not have started off on the right foot, but I am so grateful that I was by some miracle able to earn your respect in the time since then.

Dating you now has exceeded all of my hopes. You are so very important to me, Harry, I don’t want to imagine what my life would be like without you.

Yours,

Draco Malfoy

Harry’s eyes began to water as he read the letter. It was more than just the words themselves, which Harry already found moving. The fact that Draco had been comfortable putting all of these thoughts on paper and giving them to Harry was an act of trust.

There were no lines to read between and holding the letters up side by side, if not for the identical penmanship, Harry would believe they were written by different people.

Before succumbing to sleep Harry pulled out his wand and thought of the stone.

Down in the dungeons, Draco woke the next morning to find new words on the stone that had been clutched in his fist.

I’m yours

***

Harry had another lesson with Dumbledore before the quidditch match. Learning the nature of Voldemort's mother’s death was unsettling. Watching a young Tom Riddle approached by Dumbledore about Hogwarts was even odder. Voldemort so often felt like an enduring force, and Harry sometimes forgot he was a person.

He wished he could think that the humanization of Tom Riddle was comforting but realizing that the man was now and had always been wicked, even as a child. Harry found the whole thing entirely unsettling.

Practices had been going fairly well, Ron's nerves were starting to get in the way, but Harry had a plan. On the whole, the team was performing well, and Harry had even fit a few one-on-one practices in with Draco. They had to cast a disillusionment and play at odd hours, but Harry could hardly complain. Being a captain had put pressure on Harry that he hadn’t expected, it also made Quidditch sometimes feel a bit more like a task to get done than something fun. Practicing with Draco made it fun again.

Dating him was everything Harry had hoped for. The term kept them busy, but they’d had a few study dates in an attempt to balance the two. Draco always ensured that they actually got a decent amount of studying done before he let Harry distract him too much.

They tended to study in the archive room, in the basement, away from prying eyes. They’d transfigured a few comfortable chairs in the room. Most notably, no one was there to stop Harry from taking Draco’s resolution to study as a direct challenge.

Usually, by the time they’d finished studying, Harry was essentially in Draco’s lap, and doodling in the margins of whichever notebook Draco was working in.

Harry had been shocked on their first study date when Draco admitted that he knew who the half-blood prince was. Apparently, he was quite familiar with his godfather’s handwriting. He’d argued that he didn’t think Hermione would take very well to the knowledge, so he hadn’t said anything in front of her.

Harry agreed and they kept that particular detail a secret from their friends.

It was raining the day of their quidditch match and Ron’s nerves fit right in with the gloomy atmosphere until Harry tricked him into thinking he’d consumed Felix Felicis, that is.

Draco had been boasting about this game for a while. Which made it all the more surprising when Draco ran on the field minutes after his team in a huff, clearly late. Harry set that knowledge aside and chose to focus on the game.

It was a close game, Gryffindor just barely winning, and Draco nearly catching the snitch twice. Harry found himself distracted a few times as he admired Draco on his own broom. Harry wondered if Draco was having any similar distractions.

“We did it!” Ron cheered as he raced over to Harry. He almost knocked the pair of them off their brooms in his rush to hug Harry. They laughed and lowered to the ground, Harry trying his best not to think about the way his knee screamed in protest when he landed.

The entire Gryffindor house rushed off to the common room to begin celebrations, but Harry hovered by the team’s tents after he’d finished changing and cleaning up. It was still raining, but Harry didn’t care much about it thanks to the charm that kept his glasses clear. Allowing him to see Draco properly when the boy finally joined him.

“Feeling smug?” Draco asked as he stepped out of his team’s tent. The rest of the Slytherins had also disappeared earlier. Albeit in a less celebratory mood.

“A little,” Harry admitted, and Draco rolled his eyes. Harry cast a disillusionment charm and pulled Draco against him. “You played really well you know,” Harry said as he wrapped Draco in a hug.

“So did you,” Draco said, “obviously.”

“You think I’m that good,” Harry asked, nose tucked in the hair above Draco’s ear.

“I know you are,” Draco said. “Just so happens that I am too, you got lucky.”

Harry laughed and Draco joined him a few seconds later, each one pulled back enough to look the other in the eye. “Better luck next year.”

“As if, I think you mean next week.”

“Not a real game next week,” Harry corrected. “Just practice.”

“Well, I’m sure you can think of some way to reward me when I kick your ass,” Draco snarked. Harry nodded smiling enough that it almost hurt. He like this, the way they bickered. It felt good, right.

Harry couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to Draco’s lips. Then his rain-soaked cheek. Then he was trailing kissed down Draco’s neck and the blond was gasping. Draco pulled Harry back up and sealed their lips back together, fingers gripped in wet hair. Harry allowed himself to get lost in the feeling before pulling away and placing a few stray, playful pecks on Draco’s face.

They walked back to the school with the disillusionment charm still firmly in place, fingers inextricably intertwined.

Later that night in the Gryffindor common room Harry proved to Hermione that he hadn’t actually given their best friend any potion. Everyone celebrated and Harry enchanted Draco’s stone to say you looked good today, and it was enough.

Draco meant everything to Harry, in a way that he wasn’t sure he was ready to put into three simple words just yet. All the same, he knew he wasn’t far off. He missed his boyfriend in moments like this, sure. It was all worth it though, and Harry wouldn’t trade it for anything.

***

Harry thought he and Draco really were becoming quite mature in the last few weeks before the holidays. They didn’t need to spend every spare second together. Every once in a while, was Harry curious as to why Snape would keep Draco after class, or that night last week when Draco missed dinner?

A little. But they trusted each other, and Harry wasn’t going to worry himself over it.

Really, he wasn’t.

Besides, it was Slughorn’s party tonight for the end of term, and Harry didn’t have an excuse not to go to this one. He’d already confessed to Draco that he wished they could go together.

Draco had shrugged it off. Harry had noticed throughout the year that a part of Draco wanted to be invited to these parties. Harry wished he could’ve just passed along one of the many invitations he had declined. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so simple.

“I really don’t need to go,” Harry insisted at breakfast to Draco, who was seated next to Harry at the Gryffindor table.

“You should, I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” Draco said. Focusing the brunt of his attention pushing the eggs around his plate. “Plus, you can tell me all about how Blaise embarrasses himself in front of Ginevra and her new guy.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, that one,” Draco agreed. The owls swarmed in. Most people would be headed home on the express the next morning, and so there wasn’t much need to send things today.

Therefore, Harry had nothing else to occupy himself with when a silvery grey owl swooped gracefully down to the Gryffindor table and dropped a thick envelope in front of Draco.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Draco said. He picked the envelope up with haste and left the Great Hall in a hurry.

Harry was a bit disappointed when he didn’t manage to see Draco again before the party.

Harry had been talking with Luna over the punch bowl when it happened. The echo of the door ricocheting off the wall seemed to pull the entire party to a halt.

“Professor Slughorn,” Filch’s usual nasally drawl hung in the air. “I discovered the boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?”

Malfoy pulled himself free. Harry could see the shame on Draco’s face. He just couldn’t understand why. When Draco admitted to gatecrashing, Harry knew that he was lying, but the pieces weren’t adding up.

Slughorn had invited Draco to stay and insisted that the boy not be placed in any trouble. Harry was listening intently, murmuring a quick excuse to Luna as he tried to get closer to Draco. Draco was trying to kiss up to Slughorn by talking about his grandfather, but his words didn’t sound right. The usually smooth lilt to his voice spiked with panic.

“I’d like a word with you Draco,” Snap said abruptly. He had been quietly lurking near the door the whole party.

Draco tried to evade Snape, and Slughorn did try to talk Draco out of trouble but Snape won out. Draco trailing reluctantly behind his godfather, Harry sneaking out behind them. Once he was in the hall, Harry quickly slid on his invisibility cloak and trailed after them.

He found the room that they’d slipped into and pressed his ear against the keyhole.

“I know that you’ve been working on Occlumency Draco, but even you are not that good,” Snape drawled.

“I can do it,” Draco bit back.

“No, you can’t,” Snape said. “We agreed at the start of term that you couldn’t, that’s why we developed a different plan. It failed, now it is time to do things my way.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to make of the words he was hearing.

“There must be something else I can do,” Draco said. Harry could not see either of them with his ear pressed to the keyhole, but it sounded like Draco was pleading.

“The train leaves tomorrow. There is no time for anything else, don’t you want to protect them?” Snape asked.

“You know that I do—that’s why I—” Draco was tripping over his own words.

There was a distinct slam, like a palm connecting with solid wood.

“Not them. Your friends, you know everything about them now Draco, how would you feel if it were your fault that information fell into the wrong hands?”

There was a long pause. Long enough that Harry thought they might be leaving the room if not for the lack of footsteps, so her took a risk and let his ear stay where it was.

“I need to talk to Harry,” Draco croaked. Harry took that as his cue to go slamming into the classroom. Snape and Draco turning to Harry and he shed his cloak.

“Talk to me about what?” Harry couldn’t help the defensive tone he took.

“Harry.”

Draco had said it in a whisper, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Harry’s heart broke and he wanted nothing more than to make it better.

“I’ll be back in an hour Draco, to do what needs to be done,” Snape instructed taking his leave from the room.

Harry easily caught Draco when he collapsed forward into Harry’s arms.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered into soft blond hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—I was so sure I could…” It was a wet tumble of words that left Harry uncertain of what was going on.

“You can tell me,” Harry said, brushing a firm palm up and down Draco’s spine.

The air was heavy when Draco slowly pulled back and stepped out of Harry’s arms. The distance between them rattled Harry more than he cared to admit.

“I have to go back,” Draco said.

“Where?”

Harry knew what he must mean. The silence only clarifying his suspicions, but he needed to hear Draco say it.

“Have to go back, where?” Harry pushed.

“To the Manor.”

“Why?” Dread a solid weight in Harry’s gut.

Draco pressed a trembling hand to his own temple before looking back at Harry. “The letter this morning, it was from my father. If I do not return on the train tomorrow… Voldemort intends to kill my mother.”

“Draco,” the word resembles a gasp in Harry’s mouth. He pulls Draco into his arms, his best attempt at reassuring. He knew only distantly about what was going on at the manor. That as far as Voldemort was concerned Draco was still firmly aligned with them. That Draco would be staying at Hogwarts to work on a project with Snape over the holidays. Harry knew that Draco had a plan for what to do next semester to get his parents out of the manor and flee.

Draco had never wanted to discuss the details, and Harry trusted him.

He should’ve gotten more involved.

“You’ll figure this out, go play along for a few weeks, and then I’ll help you with your plan—”

“Harry, I can’t go back,” the words are resolute. The confidence of his words back for the first time since this morning. He pulled back once again standing tall across from Harry, chin lifting.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked. He knew that Draco loved his family. Had heard a million fond memories of Narcissa from when Draco was growing up. There was no question that he would go back for her.

“I can’t go back like this,” Draco’s words were steel. “I thought all summer about how I would go about escaping. I have spent the last four months here at Hogwarts rotating through different plans and scenarios with Severus… and Severus has spent the last four months perfecting just one.”

“What is it?” Harry asked. Hoping with all of his being that this plan would be the answer Draco needed.

“I was never going to agree to it—I thought it would never come to it. Truly a last resort” the words spilled out of Draco in a rush. “If I could’ve just stayed here—”

“What is the plan, Draco?” Harry asked. His hopes falling with each quick syllable Draco uttered.

“Severus plans to alter my memories,” Draco paused, but Harry had nothing to say until he better understand what the boy meant. “He will remove any memories I have of you and your friends and replace them with things the Dark Lord might find more acceptable.”

“Our friends.”

“No Harry, your friends,” Draco corrects. “I doubt they’ll care to speak with me come morning.”

“But this is all temporary, you’ll be back for winter term and we’ll fix this—”

“No Harry we won’t,” Draco’s words held finality, but Harry refused to listen.

“We will—”

“Harry, one of the conditions in the letter is that when I return tomorrow, the first thing I do upon arrival is swear a vow and take the Dark Mark. I will never be free again, and my mind will no longer be my own. I cannot afford to know then the things that I know now,” Draco said.

“So, what? You’re just going to give up,” as Harry said it, he realizes that he’ll never get to hold Draco again after this. He won’t get to doodle in his notebooks, chase him around the quidditch pitch, swap odd stories from their childhoods, or steal kisses just because he feels like it. “You’re just going to walk away from this… from me?”

“Harry, I know which Tesco you run to the morning after full moons to pick up chocolate for Remus. I know about the Order and almost everyone in it. I know that you know about Horcruxes, I fucking told you how they work. I know about the prophecy, your lessons with Dumbledore, your flying habits, your disgusting aunt and uncle, and most importantly, I know that you trust me. Alongside a million other things that I can’t afford for Voldemort to know.” Draco tried to explain, his voice even, detached. It only served to further Harry's pain.

That Draco could so easily explain the basis of a plan that would shatter Harry’s heart into an irreversible kaleidoscope of pain and misery. “Snape gets to be on both sides,” Harry tried to argue. He knew that Snape had concealed information countless times.

“Severus has decades more experience mastering Occlumency, he’s also a trusted Death Eater, he’s earned a level of respect that I have no claim to,” Draco explained.

“How can you be so fucking calm about all of this?” Harry demanded. He could feel tears stinging in the back of his vision but refused to let it show.

Draco gaped at him. “Calm? Harry, I’m completely devastated. This is it for me. I’ve been so happy with you, and I’m never going to get to have that again after this,” Draco confessed, “I’m not even going to get to remember it was ever mine in the first place.” His eyes were silver pools of regret and Harry wanted to freeze time. To give himself time to think. To find a way to fix everything.

“Draco, I don’t want you to do this, but I know what it’s like to lose your parents and I would hate anyone who asked that of you,” Harry said, trying to sound rational. “All I ask is that when you come back, you have Snape fix your memories…Draco please, I love you.”

“Harry,” it sounded like an apology, and Harry knew the answer in that moment. “I can’t. I refuse to put you in danger like that. I’d never forgive myself. But Harry, you must know… I l—”

“No!” Harry cut in abruptly. “If you’re going to leave me then you don’t get to say it. I’m the one who's living with the memories, and I—I…”

“Okay,” Draco whispered. “Okay,” and Draco pulled Harry into a tight hug. It was only when Harry had tucked his head into Draco’s shoulder, that he allowed himself to weep. He felt Draco shuddering in his arms and knew the boy he loved was no better off.

“I don’t want to let you go,” Harry admitted in a choked whisper. “I’m not sure how to do this without you… I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I know that you’ll win Harry,” Draco whispered back. “You’re going to be amazing.”

When Snape came back, they were still wrapped in each other’s arms. They’d grown silent, Harry attempting to memorize each detail. The way holding Draco in his arms felt like home. The way he smelled just a bit like citrus and had a tendency to try and burrow his head farther into Harry’s shoulder every minute or so. The soft brush of hair against Harry’s cheek and the uncharacteristic brush of stubble against his neck when Draco turned to tuck his face in Harry’s collarbone.

“Potter, it would be best if you were on your way,” Snape said when neither boy made a move to pull apart at his arrival.

Harry looked up at Snape and let his arms tighten around Draco. “Can I stay?” Harry asked.

Snape hesitated, it was the first time Harry had ever seen the Professor regard him with anything other than disdain. “It is a rather long process, and it would be best when I am finished, that you not be here.”

Harry nodded and when he attempted to step back Draco refused to let go. “Just a second,” Draco said. He pulled his head up and looked at Harry, eyes red-rimmed and nose flushed.

“Say it one more time,” Draco begged. Harry knew at once what he meant, and he also knew that Snape was watching him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He reached his hand up to cup Draco’s cheek and let his thumb stroke the soft skin under delicate blond lashed for the last time. “I love you.”

Then Harry pressed a lingering kiss on Draco’s forehead because he knew that if he kissed him anywhere else, he wouldn’t be able to walk away.

Steeling his nerve, he did just that. Taking a swift step out of Draco’s arms, despite the other’s unwillingness to let him go. It hurt in a way he was entirely unfamiliar with. He didn’t allow himself to look back once he stepped out of the room. Harry had to force his feet to carry himself to the Gryffindor Tower without slowing down. He knew the second he stopped, he would collapse, and he couldn’t afford to do that yet.

Everyone must still have been at Slughorn’s party because the dorm was empty when he got there. He threw himself into his bed and pulled the curtain shut. Then he cried. The last thing he did before he let sleep take him, with the memory of Draco’s last wish fresh in his mind, was reach for his wand and think the words he that wouldn’t leave his head.

I love you