Draco frowned down at him. "Your nose is a little…crooked. Not as a bad thing," he added hastily. "It just is."

Harry closed his eyes and laughed, shaking his head. "You idiot, you're the one who did it to me!"

"When I…?" Draco asked hesitantly, fiddling with the sheets massed around them.

"Stepped on my face? Yeah," Harry answered bluntly, but still smiling good-naturedly.

"Right," Draco replied simply. "Well, fine, then. See these scars?" He pulled off his shirt.

Harry sat up and rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know you just can't resist showing off your perfect body Draco, but not right now. "

"No, really!" Draco insisted. "Here." He grabbed Harry's hand and put it on his stomach.

There were fine, hair-thin ridges along his abdomen, and white scar lines showed starkly against Harry's darker hand. Harry's eyes widened behind his glasses. "Oh, my God…when I?"

Draco nodded. "When you ripped apart my body with a strange, unknown spell, yeah."

"You tried to Crucio me," Harry objected. "It was self-defense."

"My Crucio wouldn't have hurt you anyway. I didn't have the strength for it." Draco turned so his profile faced the window.

"And I was supposed to know this because?" Harry reminded him skeptically.

"Because I stepped on your face," Draco replied reasonably and matter-of-factly.

"That makes a whole lot of sense," Harry said, laughing again.

"No," Draco groaned, laughing as well. "No, see, in sixth year…" He stopped abruptly, shrugging his shirt back on.

"Go on," Harry said, serious.

"It doesn't matter." Draco turned and got off the bed, smoothing out the bed sheets. "Move, you great lump."

"No," Harry said resolutely. "Please tell me." Draco further busied himself with the sheets, ignoring Harry. "Draco," Harry pleaded.

"If I tell you, you're going to laugh, Harry," Draco sighed. "We've been through this already."

"Last time you said that I didn't even laugh," Harry retorted. "I promise I won't laugh at you. Why would I? If it's something that personal and important to you, I couldn't laugh."

Draco put his hands on his hips and sighed. "That sounds really great when you say it, Harry."

"I don't understand you!" Harry said, frustrated. "You – "

"It was because I thought you were beautiful," Draco interrupted quickly, then turned away, hands still fixing the sheets, but trembling slightly.

Harry stared at him from the bed. "Draco…"

"I thought you were so beautiful, but I was supposed to hate you, and everybody, and have no compassion for beauty…" Draco continued bleakly.

"But you have a great eye for beauty," Harry argued, getting off the bed and wrapping his arms around Draco's waist.

Draco smirked and looked his lover in the eye. "More than a little arrogant, aren't we?"

"What? I mean…oh," Harry laughed. "No, I meant your paintings, for example."

"Harry, they're not that great. They never turn out the way I want them to." Draco wriggled smoothly out of Harry's arms and crawled back onto the bed. "Like this one. I don't know what's wrong with it, but there's something off."

Harry rested his chin on Draco's shoulder. "I think all it needs is a little acceptance. It feels disgruntled that you're unhappy with it."

"You're cute," Draco quipped.

"I thought I was beautiful," Harry commented, teasing. "Sorry," he added. "I wasn't trying to – "

"You are beautiful; absurdly so," Draco murmured, his lips a centimeter away from Harry's.

"You're absurdly sexy," Harry whispered, chapped lips tingling with anticipation. He sighed softly as Draco kissed the corner of his mouth, ad worked inwards rather chastely.

Just as it was getting exciting, Harry caught a glimpse of his watch. "Time to go to work!" he said brightly, sliding off the bed. "Seven- thirty honey."

"Bloody tease," Draco said loudly. "No, I'm kidding. I'll see you later."

"It's not like I want to stop," Harry said petulantly, picking out robes.

They dressed in silence, but not uncomfortably, it was simply the busy swish of robes and bathroom trips. "What class do you have first this morning?" Harry asked, checking one last time in the mirror.

"None, but I have the sixth year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs at one. Always a pleasure," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"Second year Gryffindors and Slytherins," replied Harry.

Draco shot him a look. "I bet you love that," he said sarcastically.

"I do," Harry said sincerely, turning around and smiling at Draco.

"I wish it were a Saturday," Draco yawned, stretching.

"Don't we all. I'll see you at breakfast." Harry kissed Draco intensely, picked up his bag and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Smoothing the bed flat once again, Draco smiled crookedly and reminisced on their relationship. There were so many fond memories. Like that time with the pumpkin pie, and Harry's aunt, uncle and cousin. That was actually fun, Harry seemed to really enjoy having somewhere to call home, finally.

Sometimes Draco wished that the only home Harry would ever have was with him, wherever he might go, so that Harry was totally dependent on him for love and support. But, Draco reflected, it's a different kind of love. I'd adore to think that our love was unconditional, but fuck that. Harry wanted him to start being satisfied with less than perfection. He wanted Harry to stop feeling like he had to save the world all the time. 'Cut the hero shit, Harry," he'd say. 'Cut the perfectionist shit,' Harry would reply. 'Draco.'

But Draco knew it was love. How, exactly? He didn't know, and that's how he knew. What an odd way to define things, he thought. A few, select people now could only achieve what they had, Harry and him. He loved the way Harry said his name. He loved the way Harry smiled, laughed, cried…he didn't think there was anything Harry could do to shock him anymore.

Draco could still recall the moment when he first felt this way, when he first felt like he could really, truly, give his life up for someone.

BPBPBP

"Malfoy! Malfoy!" Draco faintly heard his name being called. He tried to sit up, or at least turn toward the person, but he had nothing left. His blood was pooled around him; his own flesh was creating a funeral pyre.

"Malfoy." Suddenly there was someone holding his shoulders, breathing into his face. Wide green eyes looked down at him, strong hands held his face. "Malfoy! No, please, stay alive, don't die…we need you…Draco."

"Take," Draco began, and was surprised that he could still talk, "Take my life. Take …the energy and… harness it …to defeat… Voldemort."

"Draco – "

"Harry, you're the one who's supposed to… save us all. I'm just another casualty, Potter. Just another fucking casualty… my name will go down in history, if you put it there. Just let there be a reason..." He was talking shit, and he knew it, but by this point, he really didn't care anymore. He could dully make out the sounds of the battle, but so faintly it seemed as a dream. "Potter, take my soul. Even that's not perfect, because I'm the most screwed person I've ever met…but take my broken soul and kill Voldemort." Draco's breathing was labored, and blood trickled from his many wounds.

"Malfoy, you're talking bullshit. Shut up and I'll take you to the hospital." Those same, warm arms hooked under his legs and his neck. "This is going to be rough, but get through it and you'll be safe," Harry whispered in his ear.

"Take my soul, you faggot," Draco said irritably, wincing as he was lifted from the ground. "There should be enough power in it to at least destroy that stupid machine he's got rigged up."

Potter kept carrying him down the field. "Do you doubt it? Do you doubt the wholeness of my soul? It's fragmented, I know, but I know that at least…" There was the psychological barrier he'd learned to place firmly so many years ago. But, it didn't matter. He might as well say it, now that he was going to die. "Harry, my soul is at least intact enough that I can…Harry…I love you..." At that moment, his vision faded to gray, and the last thought he remembered having was:

The least the git could do was use my living soul for something.

BPBPBP

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing a full-fledged Harry/Draco, with a back story and stuff…I know my way of introducing their meeting is crude, but this is kind of a rough edit, and I will find nicer ways to incorporate the memories later. The last bit is a flashback, by the way…

Thanks for reading!

Boticelli Puzzle