Era: 8th year AU (this means that Harry has returned to school to finish his education, and Draco has returned also, considering his seventh year was spent under Voldemort's non-existant nose.
Disclaimer: It's not mine! If it were, it would not be this world-famous!
Notes: So this is the thing that I've been looking at for months, and NOW I'm okay with it. I hope you all enjoy.

Harry pushed his sweat-damp hair out of his eyes with the heel of his palm when he reached the little ravine in the forest. The weather was balmy for late spring in Scotland, but Harry was secretly thankful. With the heat came a quiet lethargy that blanketed Hogwarts and its grounds. Classes ended early, students poured out onto the lawns, sought shade in the cooler parts of the castle, or took a wade in the lake. But, Harry was meeting someone, as he usually did on Fridays after class, in the Forbidden Forest.

The sunshine scattered in little green ribbons through the canopy of the old trees, light widening into yellow, then white beams that smiled on the fracture in the earth that a little stream had cut ages ago.

There was a tree, dark and wet with moss that had fallen over the ravine, and on it stood Draco Malfoy, hands outstretched as he walked with careful steps, school shirt plastered to his back and sleeves rolled to the elbows, hair disheveled.

Loosening his tie when he glanced at the pile of discarded uniform a foot or two away, Harry waited quietly for Draco to reach the other side before saying,

"Hey."

Draco looked up, smirked. "Scarhead," he said by way of greeting, flicking his hair back and hopping back on the trunk of the tree, facing Harry this time.

"Bit hot today," Harry called out.

"Observant as ever," Draco addressed the canopy in mock exasperation. He wobbled a bit on his balancing beam, one foot lifting away from the trunk to steady himself. He was barefoot.

Harry toed off his loafers and peeled his socks off, too. Tossing his tie on the ground, he hopped onto the tree and began to walk toward the other boy, toes brushing against dewy, cushioned moss.

"How are you?" Harry tried again.

"Quite well, ever since Professor Babbling gave up trying to teach us runes when it's this bloody hot out. People were sweating. Sweating! And Malfoys do not tolerate sweat."

"Oh, so you're not all sweaty, right now."

"Not at all. I am shining."

Harry snorted, meeting Draco in the middle. "That may be the most homosexual statement I've ever heard you say, Draco."

Draco wobbled again, and Harry reached out to steady him, fingers wrapping around his pointy elbows. Draco shook his head vehemently, reaching out to rest his palms on Harry's shoulders when he lost balance again.

"No, I'm sure you'll surprise me with another one very soon."

"I've told you, Harry," he muttered, hands fiddling absently with Harry's button-down, one finger catching on the fabric and slipping beneath to trace his collarbone. "I don't disappoint."

Harry smiled.

"Let's sit, shall we?"

Harry squatted quickly and straddled the trunk of the old tree before stretching his arms out in case Draco needed help—

—which he did not, because he pursed his lips and very deliberately sat straddled on the trunk, the crooks of his knees resting atop Harry's thighs.

Almost immediately, though, he began to fiddle with the buttons of Harry's shirt, nibbling on his lip.

Harry was distracted.

"I missed you," Draco said quietly, finally. His eyes never left the silly pearlescent buttons of Harry's uniform.

Harry still went breathless whenever Draco admitted things like that. Harry wasn't sure if it was because those moments were rare or because he was so incredibly in love with him. He touched Draco's wrist lightly, sucking in a breath to tell him he'd missed him too.

"What happened to your finger?" Draco snapped, grabbing Harry's hand and examining the poorly constructed bandage that covered a neat cut on the middle finger of his left hand.

Harry shrugged. "Potions happened. Ron made some joke about Slughorn and I missed the venomous tentacula leaf I was dicing. It's not deep."

Draco frowned, annoyed. "Your finger could've been infected."

"Slughorn said it'd swell up like a balloon if it did."

"I swear," Draco growled. He took out his wand and Vanished the bandage before sweeping a smooth thumb over the tiny wound. "Just because you've suffered worse things in your life – in fact, the worst possible things – doesn't mean you need to suffer at all."

"Draco…"

"Je vous guéris," he intoned in French, sliding the tip of his wand – their wand – over the sore flesh.

Harry shuddered, the quirk of a small smile flitting across his lips as the magic slid down his forearm and sent a funny twinge into his elbow. He flexed his hand and examined the pink line of new skin.

"All better?"

"It feels kind of… right when you use your wand on me," Harry said and then grimaced, preparing himself for some terrible innuendo that Draco would tease out of the statement.

Instead, Draco put his wand in his pocket and leaned close hot breath ghosting over Harry's lips. Harry shakily pressed his hands into the fabric covering Draco's thighs. They kissed, the heat urging them on, encouraging the teasing licks over wet lips, the lusty scrapes of teeth over reddened skin. When Harry could do nothing but gasp for breath, eyes scrunched closed trying not to get too carried away with himself, Draco's voice drifted out over the ravine, falling into Harry's ears in the softest of whispers.

"It feels right whenever I do anything with you, Harry."

Harry opened his eyes. Draco was looking at him, gaze flitting back and forth between Harry's green eyes. His face was twisted into an expression Harry couldn't quite read. He'd seen it the first time they'd kissed those months ago.

"You know when the Ministry offered me and Hermione and Ron spots in the Auror training program mid-year?

Draco sat back, wiping his expression and replacing it with a polite blankness. "I do recall that, Harry."

Harry squeezed Draco's knee. "I was feeling like shit, you know. And –"

"You were having one of those months of the sort of angst that's better fit for a Teen Sanguinarian novel."

"Er, maybe? I felt like this last school year was a waste after all that we'd been through, so I was really considering packing up and joining Kingsley in the program. But then you started talking to me, dropping by my desk in the library, saying hello in the halls, and that one time you slipped me a good luck note before the Quidditch ga –"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course," Harry sniggered, lightly chucking Draco under the chin. "Anyway, I kind of realized that I'd missed out on – well, I'd missed out of this sort of stuff."

"Stuff."

"You-and-me-stuff. Whenever I see you now, it's like… my stomach flips over and this thing in my chest – it hurts."

Draco looked exceptionally frightened for Harry's mental health. "That's worrisome."

"It's a good hurt. Well, fuck, I'm not explaining this very well."

"Not really, no."

Harry took a breath and tried again. "I realized that I wouldn't ever again get the chance to experience a childhood without the worries I've had to deal with all my life after I left Hogwarts."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "So… what you're saying is?"

"I didn't leave because I thought there might be something left for me, here," Harry said, voice quieter with each word.

"You didn't join the Aurors because you thought you had a chance with me."

"I have plenty of time to join the Aurors, and you're right here," Harry said.
Draco's lips parted on a breath.

"And besides I'm really interested in learning what Professor McGonagall is teaching before N.E.W.T.s. That Pilzbaum Human-object Transformation Theory sounded absolutely scintillating – OOMPH!"

"Shut up," Draco muttered before grabbing Harry by the hair at his nape, fingers clenched around the damp locks, and dragging him in for a fierce kiss. Harry wrapped an arm around Draco's waist and pulled him closer, only half mindful of their precarious position.

A loud caw from a nearby raven startled them from their activities, but Draco didn't scramble away like he usually did, like he'd lost track of time and had been caught. Instead he leaned into Harry's embrace, forehead to forehead, and brushed his fingers over Harry's cheek.

"I love you," said Draco.

Harry grinned, contentment bubbling over in his chest. "I love you, too."