I cannot compute this. I, Draco Malfoy, cannot understand what I am seeing.

Ronald Weasley, of the redheaded, freckle faced, mass producing Weasleys is lying next to me, snoring blissfully. I sense that he's the type of guy to sleep in, whereas I am more like the man who is awake and alert in the early morning hours, loving being the only person awake, the only one alive, in the dim morning light. The light that is pouring through the open window right now, bringing the scent of cherry blossoms and a stray petal with them.

I grasp the petal in between my two pale and delicate fingers. I want to make sure that this is real. Last night, the dark lord was defeated. I am free now, but I have done... I have done some horrible things. Under his command, and not under his command. I have never killed, but I have tortured. It is worse than killing, to hear someone's voice waver in the darkness, plead, beg, tell you about their family, try and make you feel remorse-

I could never kill. Voldemort always did that for me, sneering at my weakness. My father joined him, calling me useless, snivelling, a brat. My mother never protected me, for she was a coward, but she loved me and still does. I miss her greatly. Once I understand what the fuck Weasley and I did last night, I will go see her.

Perhaps sensing his name, Weasley shifts next to me, muttering in his sleep. Something about dragons. I have to admit, it's cute, but I was totally sloshed last night. Drunk and lonely, and although he should have told me not to do it, since he was only one of the two, he didn't. And I regret it.

Do I?

I shake my head, trying to get the thought trapped between my ears out. I've got to wake him up, I've got to understand what he wants before I can leave. But after the events of last night, and his brother, I don't quite have the heart to wake him. I'd like to still be dreaming too. Where you can have anything you want-

"Draco..." He mutters, turning over in his sleep, now facing me. I jump back, surprised at the use of my name and not just a sneered "Malfoy!" at me. He's still asleep, but does this mean that last night was more than just... sex? I mean, it was great nonetheless, but the way he reaches out for someone, anyone in his sleep just makes me want to hold him so badly. Like last night.

I remember now. Crashing on the bed after a quick walk around the castle, just talking. And silence, too. The silence that comes from not needing to say anything. It was a silence that was somehow more personal then anything I could ever say. He looked at me, straight at me, knowing that I was still drunk and he was alert, all there. Grabbed my hand and led me back to the room of requirement, Kissed me there, and I shoved him back on the bed, drunk but sober, ready to do anything to prove what I felt.

Malfoy's DO NOT give up. Ever. Even when they are not sure of what they want, like now.

Weasley mumbles again, reaching out a hand for me in his sleep. I take it like a

lifeline. He needs me here, so I will be here. I will stay here for hours, until he wakes up, until I fall asleep, until the world ends. His eyes open, twin brown pools, and I am confused, stuck in an awkward position. I jerk my hand back. "Sorry," I mutter, touching my smile, as if to both stop it and make sure that it's still there.

"S'okay." He says, under his breath. We are awkward around each other, not quite sure of what last night meant and what today means and what tomorrow will bring. We don't know what will happen in the future, and we can't remember or make sense of our past. All we can do now is live and hope that life works out its kinks.

He gets out of the bed, nervously motioning for me to turn away until he works his lean frame back into last nights jeans and dark blue t-shirt. I do so, and when he turns back, he is clothed. He wants to talk about last night. I see the wonderment in his eyes, it's as if he is thinking how, how could I have done... this with that wanker Draco Malfoy?

Nothing quite hurts like unrequited love. I know it is unrequited by the look in his eyes, the look that tells me, bitches at me, saying you seduced me, saying that his vision was so clouded by grief that he couldn't make judgements. "Right," He murmurs, picking up himself and opening the door. "Well. No use drawing it out. I'll see you around."

Then I do something that I never expected myself, a Malfoy, a proud MAN to do: I start to cry. And I don't believe it, although I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks and I reach a hand up to try and close my mouth, to try and regain my pride, but it doesn't work and so I just sob. And when my vision clears, I can see him standing there. I'm still hiccuping when he says uncertainly: "I didn't know... Oh, christ, Draco. Sorry." And he leaves.

Fuck.

So I throw the rest of my pride away, run after the red head I see quickly disappearing form my view, and I grab him, spin him around, and kiss him square on the mouth, tears streaming down my cheeks still.

Our first sober kiss.

He stands there for a moment and my heart fails, and I think that I have mistaken him. But he throws his arms around me, and I realize that he's crying too. And we've drawn a crowd of people, Harry and my mother included, but we don't care. Finally, we part, and we are both so full of emotion that we can't help but to keep crying and he reaches a hand up to my face and I am full.

And I ask the awkward question, one that I never thought I'd be asking to Ronald fucking Weasley.

"I know we've only been doing this 24 hours and all, but... well, it feels right and..." I sigh. I'm not a romantic and I can't say this. He looks me in the eye and responds seriously.

"Whatever it is, Draco, the answer is yes."

He takes my hand, long scarred fingers slipping into mine.

He whispers in my ear, leading me back to the bedchamber: "Yes, because I love you."