Harry stared at the windowsill as the first hint of dawn light crested over the steep Scottish countryside around Hogwarts. All around him, Harry's dormmates snored and shifted in their sleep, though the heavy brocade curtains pulled around each bed muffled most of the sound. He stifled a yawn, wishing he could fall back to sleep but the vague haunting nightmare that had jolted him awake an hour ago still clung to the edge of his mind.

"…Harry…"

Harry leaned forward, his ears straining after the faint voice he could have sworn called his name.

Just as he was about to give up and relax back against his headboard, he heard it again, the same voice though Harry couldn't make out any words. He slipped out of bed, flinching at the cold of the stone floor, and walked quietly down the rows of beds, two houses worth in one large room that had been empty for years until the eighth years needed it.

Harry paused nervously at the end of the room, the Slytherin end. His body swayed backwards, ready to bolt back to his bed in a heartbeat.

"…just want to…"

Harry caught the faint mumble and turned towards it, a little shiver of anxiety going up his back as he faced Draco's bed. He edged to the side of the bed, parting the curtains just a crack.

Draco was curled in the centre of his bed. He had kicked his blankets down to his waist. Draco's fine white blond hair, normally so neat, was mussed and splayed across his pillow. He looked younger, his face relaxed and gentled in sleep.

As Harry watched, Draco's brow furrowed, murmuring faintly into his pillow.

Harry leaned down, head and shoulders slipping through the curtains to try and hear what Draco was saying.

Draco sighed, frowning faintly, "…sorry, Harry."

Harry startled so badly he almost fell, clutching to the curtain to keep himself upright, the canopy above him groaning ominously at the sudden weight. Light filled the once dark enclosure and Harry held his breath, not daring to move a muscle.

Draco opened one eye, squinting against the light. He blinked blearily as he studied Harry's face with a faint smile that only grew more blinding as Harry watched. Draco had been very careful around Harry since they had come back to school, almost painfully polite when he wasn't avoiding Harry altogether. Harry knew because he had spent a great deal of time watching Draco with a growing sense of frustration every time he veered to avoid Harry or school his face carefully blank as he spouted mindless bland pleasantries.

Now, though, Draco was smiling up Harry like he was his personal sun.

It made Harry feel breathless. He couldn't remember seeing a smile like that before, not on Draco, not on anyone. He didn't quite understand how he was the one responsible for it.

Draco rolled onto his back and reached up to Harry. His hands curled around the back of Harry's neck, skating across his skin and into the short hair at the base of his neck. Harry shivered, watching as Draco slowly blinked and couldn't quite manage to open them again, sighing sleepily.

It had been one of the more fascinating discoveries, rooming with the Slytherin's, that Draco was absolutely not a morning person. Blaise would usually wake him and guide Draco through his morning routine like a drill sergeant as Draco stumbled along. It took at least two cups of coffee before Draco could even string a complete sentence together.

Harry reached up, covering Draco's hand loosely with his own. Harry knew he should wake Draco up or at least leave but the trouble was he- he didn't want to.

It had been Ginny, of all people, to point out to Harry that his growing re-obsession with Draco was likely because he fancied him. It had shaken the foundations of Harry's world. Until then he really hadn't considered boys in the realm of romance but once it had been pointed out there was no going back.

There were whole swaths of Harry's memory that suddenly had entirely different contexts, his admiration of Wood, a mild crush, his despair over Cedric, his first proper crush and not Cho, though, he did probably fancy her a bit as well. And Draco Malfoy, who he had noticed right away in the Madam Malkin's robe shop, and went right on noticing for the rest of his life like a magpie drawn to glitter and no one shone quite like Draco.

It felt like the final piece to a puzzle that had evaded him for years and he had finally solved it. That made it all the more frustrating that now Draco wanted nothing to do with him.

Or so he had thought.

Harry shivered and leaned into Draco's touch as his fingers lazily pulled through Harry's messy curls.

Draco frowned slightly, his hand pulling Harry down towards him, "M' here," he murmured with annoyance.

Harry felt the last of his resistance vanish. He eased through the curtains, kneeling on the edge of the bed and letting Draco guide him. He ended up with his head on Draco's arm as Draco rolled onto his side so they were face to face. Draco's hand lazily traced it's way down from Harry's neck, over his shoulder and down across his back, holding him possessively for a few brief moments before relaxing.

Harry pulled his feet onto the bed, the curtains swinging mostly closed behind him and filling the small space with a faint muted light. He pulled his glasses off and set them up on the corner of the bed out of the way, he could smell Draco's sweet citrusy shampoo clinging to the pillow and to Draco.

Harry shifted closer, holding his breath a little when Draco frowned faintly and letting it out when Draco just pressed his face deeper into his pillow, his mouth brushing across Harry's hair.

Harry had never been this close to Draco before, dreamed of it, but never thought it could ever be a reality. He watched Draco's eyelashes flutter across his cheeks, a shade darker than his hair. Draco mouth pursed faintly, lips pressing thin and then relaxing, soft and pink. Harry could make out the beginnings of wrinkles creased into Draco's forehead, too faint to be noticeable yet but so like Harry's own. In five or six years they would both start to look far older than their years.

Feeling caught half in a dream himself, Harry reached up between them and hesitantly traced the line of Draco's jaw. His fingertips sliding across smooth, soft skin. No stubble. Lucius had always been very smooth shaven as well. Harry wondered what Draco would look like with stubble or a beard and flushed at the mental picture.

Draco made a faint grumbling noise that seemed to be trapped in his chest like the rumble of an earthquake. His hand, draped over Harry's back, slid down, catching Harry's arm and pulling it down between them.

Harry caught his own disappointment in a sigh, pulling his hand down with Draco's. He pressed Draco's fingers wide against his own, longer and thinner, elegant and neat much like Draco himself. His heart stuttered and tightened in his chest with the sudden realization of how intimate and private this felt, a moment Harry had manufactured out of Draco's sleepy unawareness, knowing- Knowing- he wouldn't have been welcome if Draco had been awake.

"Draco?" Harry said, wincing at the worry and desperation laced in his own voice. When Draco didn't respond Harry laced his fingers with Draco and squeezed.

Draco's eyelashes fluttered, his eyes opening slowly. His expression was still soft and clouded with sleep.

"Draco?" Harry repeated, wanting to draw Draco into wakefulness, wanting confirmation, recognition, something to make this real.

Draco responded by tipping his head, pressing soft lips against Harry's brow that had furrowed with worry.

Harry's breath stuttered in his chest and it took every bit of self-control he had not to kiss Draco right then and there. "Do you know it's me?" Harry asked.

"Too loud," Draco said irritably.

"Draco," Harry said insistently, squeezing his hand.

"Harry," Draco said sarcastically, blinking rapidly, his brow furrowing as he tried to focus.

"Yes, it's me," Harry smiled, warmth flooding his chest as he leaned forward, brushing his lips across Draco's.

Draco squeezed his hand, chasing after Harry's mouth before he could pull away and kissed him sweetly. He untangled their hands, reaching up and cradling Harry's cheek. "I'm dreaming," he said breathlessly.

Harry shook his head, "I promise you're not." They were so so close Harry could make out every detail of Draco's face, from an old faded scar on his cheek to the freckles of blue in his eyes.

"I have to be," Draco said, "This could never happen."

Harry felt a sickening jolt go through his gut.

Draco's eyes widened as he frantically studied Harry's expression, "I didn't mean-"

"TIME FOR BREAKFAST, SLEEPING BEAUTY!" Blaise yelled boisterously, light flooded over them as the curtains were flung open.

Draco jumped back in shock.

Harry felt his cheeks grow hot as he awkwardly sat up, grabbing his glasses and quickly pushing past Blaise.