A/N: All righty, then. My second Harry Potter fanfiction, my first Harry/Draco fanfiction. I know it moves a little fast, but I just wanted this to be a realization encounter--buildup can be so tedious to write. The point-of-view gets a little foggy toward the end, but I think it's fitting. As they get closer together, it's hard to tell who's thinking what. Maybe they're both thinking the same things. You decide.

These days, Harry thought only of Malfoy. He lived and breathed Malfoy. His dreams, even, were full of Malfoy.

And it was killing him.

Harry was not spoiled, but that didn't change the fact that in his five-and-some years at Hogwarts the only three things his reputation or inheritance could not bring him were peace, his parents, and Malfoy. It hurt that they should be the only things that mattered.

"Mr. Potter!" Harry's head jumped off of the desk like a guilty dog that's been caught sleeping on the good leather couch.

"Y-yes, Professor?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Mr. Potter, as you may or may not have noticed, our class has spent the last several minutes choosing partners for the human-to-frog transfiguration spell. It's very advanced, and you'll need to do it after class. I am afraid that, due to your lack of animation, most everyone has found a partner."

"He can work with us, Professor!" Ron intoned, and Harry smiled hopefully.

"I am afraid," McGonagall replied, "That doing so would leave one person without a partner. Mr. Potter, you shall be paired with Mr. Malfoy."

The two boys gawked at each other for a moment before either had the common sense to sneer. "Professor," Malfoy said, his voice full of disgust, "I must request that Potter be allowed to work with the rest of the gol-- his friends. I have no qualms with completing this assignment on my own."

"Nonsense," the transfiguration teacher said, waving a hand to dismiss the idea. "I'll not have a student work alone on a partnered assignment--it would not be fair to the grading system. You will work with Mr. Potter, discussion closed."

"Rotten luck, mate," Ron whispered sympathetically to Harry.

Harry, on the other hand, was miffed. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"We would have, Harry, honest," Hermione said, "But it was impossible to budge you! You've been having nightmares again, haven't you? Ron's told me you haven't been sleeping well at night."

"Forget it," Harry murmured, looking pointedly away.

After class he approached the sneering Malfoy. "So," he said stiffly, "Where shall we work?"

"Why don't you choose, Potter?" Malfoy asked, taking his books from Goyle. "Anywhere is miserable with you, so it doesn't much matter."

Rolling his eyes, Harry turned and made his way down the right-hand corridor. He could hear Malfoy's footsteps behind him.

All things considered, Harry thought that it had probably been a mistake to bring Malfoy to the Room of Requirement to finish their transfiguration assignment. As it was, it had been a mistake on McGonagall's part to pair them up--but that was a debate for later. Currently, Harry was working. Malfoy, on the other hand, was doing anything but.

The pale sixth-year lounged across one of the two desks in the room, levitating a quill while Harry searched diligently for the spell that would transform a human into a frog. It was tough going, however, as the Gryffindor could not help but be distracted by his counterpart. It was, after all, an enticing sight. One of Malfoy's legs lay flush against the desk while the other was bent just slightly. Both feet pointed elegantly toward the wall, as though he were a ballet dancer in mid-leap. Those beautiful, long-fingered hands were weaving in the air above him, white quill sweeping drunkenly back and forth to follow the tip of his wand. His slim stomach and chest were arched slightly, his head tipped back over the edge of the desk to expose the milky throat that Harry longed to--

No.

"If you continue to insist on not helping, you're going to be the lab rat," Harry finally snapped, averting his eyes from the delicious view before them.

The other boy sat up indignantly. "Oh no you don't, Potter. McGonagall said we were to decide who would be tested on by flipping a Knut!"

Sneering, Harry narrowed his eyes. "You know what? I don't even think we can use you. I don't think the spell would work."

Quirking an eyebrow, Malfoy leaned back on one arm. "Oh? And why's that? I hope you aren't about to say something cliché, like 'because you're already a frog'. That would be disappointing."

Harry ignored him. "Because the spell is supposed to transform a human into a frog. I don't even think you're human," he spat, slapping his quill down and glaring fiercely at the Slytherin.

He missed Malfoy's slight twitch at that statement. "Really, Potter? And what in Merlin's name has brought you to that conclusion?"

"You don't know what you want," The Boy-Who-Lived paced toward Malfoy until they were only feet apart. "Even the simplest of men knows what he wants. He knows what to live for. But you, Malfoy? You have no idea what you want. You despise muggle-borns, but you fight to protect them. You love your father, but you have sworn to kill him if necessary. You are full of indecision, saying one thing, doing another. You desire too much, and so cannot desire anything."

Sneering, Malfoy pushed himself off of the desk and came toe-to-toe with Harry. "I know exactly what I want, Potter."

"Oh really?" Harry was whispering now, each word a hiss. "And what, O King of Contradictions, is that?"

Their noses were inches apart, and Malfoy's voice came softly to Harry's ears. "I want everyone, even those I hate, to be secure. To be safe, as I want to be. I want my father to understand what he has done, and to redeem himself. I want never to have to face him in battle. I want the war to end. I want peace, I want quiet; I want a life without complications. But do you know what I want more than that, Potter?"

Shocked at this sudden turning-of-the-tide, Harry could only ask "What?"

Draco's hair tickled Harry's scar. "More than anything else--more than life itself--I want you."

Later on, when the matter was raised between them in a quiet teashop on Diagon Alley, neither was able to remember for the life of them who had initiated the kiss. It seemed to be that, in that moment, they shared a single mind. Their lips locked, not in passion or tenderness at first, but in understanding. Through this kiss they were sharing their worlds, their dreams, their lives, their wants--their everythings. Harry tasted on Draco's lips a childhood of wonder, an adolescence of suffering. Draco tasted on Harry's lips a childhood of despair, an adolescence of hope. Harry kissed away Draco's present while Draco did the same for his past. When both were cleansed of pain, they separated.

As they stood there, staring into each other's eyes with an understanding and a compassion neither had ever felt for another human being, Harry raised a Quidditch-calloused hand to caress the other's spun-silver hair. "I love you, Draco Malfoy."

Draco settled his oil-smoothed fingers in the other's dark locks. "I love you, Harry Potter."

They smiled, and then came together in a kiss that seemed to make the very earth under their feet shudder. Harry ran his hands along the Slytherin's back while Draco's remained firmly in his hair, holding him in place. The smaller boy's mouth opened against Harry's, inviting him in, and the Gryffindor hero was never one to decline when invited. Their tongues clashed, catching and caressing one another in that most complex of dances which comes as instinct to anyone who has found their true love. Now Draco's hands were wrapped even more tightly in Harry's hair, and he hissed as the darker boy began trailing warm kisses along his throat. Smiling against the pale skin, Harry hissed in response--but his hisses had meaning.

"You are beautiful."

"Harry..." Draco murmured delightedly, for though the words were lost on him the meaning was not.

"You are wonderful."

"Oh..." Oh, the sound of Harry's voice in that silky language, oh, the look in Harry's eyes as he spoke it, oh, the feel of Harry's lips as he hissed against Draco's throat, "Oh..."

"You are incredible."

Draco whimpered as Harry abandoned his throat to hiss against his lips.

"You are everything."

And then they were locked in that wonderful kiss again, and Harry was tracing patterns on Draco's back and Draco was moaning into Harry's mouth, and their clothes seemed to burn away with all the other barriers between them and they were both the same creature one creature single creature lion and snake and all else in one beautiful body one body one scream and then one sigh.

Harry pulled Draco gently to him, burying his flushed face in that lovely hair and smiling. Draco felt the curl of his lover's mouth against his scalp, and at the same time felt his own lips twitch upward. He slipped his arms around Harry's neck and made a small sound of satisfaction.

"So," he murmured softly, "You know what I want. Now tell me, what does the famous, heroic Harry Potter want?"

"For now," the dark-haired boy replied, "Just this." He tightened his grip on Draco's waist.

The Slytherin frowned. "And tomorrow?"

Harry chuckled. "The stars, Draco. The stars, and you with me for as long as they shine."

Smiling, the two fell into dreams of each other, and of stars that never flickered out.

A/N: Okay, I wrote this for you--the least you can do is review it.