When Filch left them, Draco didn't say a word. No taunts, no whining, nothing. He just picked up a rag went over to the trophies. Harry wasn't surprised, really. He hadn't been himself for months now. Quieter. Off his food. Drifting around after Crabbe and Goyle like a pale little ghost. Not really responding to anything. Harry supposed he should be glad of a peaceful detention, but he looked at Draco and felt a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. He really was dreadfully pale, and had shadows as dark as bruises under his eyes.

As he polished, Harry found himself watching Draco out of the corner of his eye. Looking at him properly for the first time, Harry was surprised at how good looking he was, despite looking so tired, when he wasn't sneering or smirking. His blonde hair shone and flopped silkily over his forehead. His porcelain skin looked smooth and flawless, his lips full and perfect, his body slim but toned, his movements graceful. He suddenly felt he had to talk to him, even if he'd just end up getting snarled at.

"Are you okay, Malfoy?"

There was a little pause. Harry supposed he was surprised by the question. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Cos you're obviously bloody not, he thought, but didn't say so.

They worked on in silence.

After a little while, Draco shoved a trophy back with sudden aggression. He ducked his head. His flaxen hair fell forward into his eyes.

Harry had been watching him. He paused. "Malfoy?"

Concerned, he replaced the trophy he had been holding and went over to Draco. He knelt in front of him. Tentatively, he put a hand on his shoulder. When that didn't get a reaction, he reached out and gently cupped Draco's cheek with his palm, thumbing away the tear there. The gesture was too obvious, too tender, to be mistaken, so when Draco turned to him in surprise Harry just kissed him. There was a fraction of a pause. Then Draco parted his lips willingly and pulled Harry to him. Harry could feel the thudding of his heart. As he explored his mouth, he ran his fingers through Draco's hair and felt rather than heard the mewling moan in his throat. He felt blindly for his hand and gripped it hard.

The feeling was so perfect, so right, that Harry couldn't quite grasp what was happening when Draco abruptly pulled free and shoved him away. He watched him jump up and start backing towards the door, looking at Harry fearfully. "This never happened," he hissed, and ran out.

Harry stared after him, feeling numb. Then he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing hard. All right, he thought, with some bitterness. All right, if that's what you bloody want. This never happened.