Harry was ill.

It had begun a few weeks ago in the prefect's bathroom. He had gone in there to clear his head, gotten the password from Ron--as Hermione would have refused him--slipped inside and sat in the shadows, drowsing. He was barely able to sleep in the dormitory anymore. The snoring was too loud and abrasive. It disturbed his already frenzied, delicate dreams.

But soon after he had come in and begun to watch the candlelight flicker on the porcelain, Draco Malfoy had entered the bathroom.

Harry kept his intake of breath to himself. He should have anticipated other people coming into the bathroom, but this was the last person he would have thought of.

It had been okay, at first. Harry was hidden by a toilet stall, sitting in a small alcove. Malfoy couldn't see him. He could see Malfoy.

And that was the problem, because Malfoy began to take his clothes off and slip into the bathtub.

Harry's stomach twinged looking at Malfoy's body. Because it wasn't bad at all. He had a very nice body, in fact, pale and lithe. But who the body belonged to was a different matter, a wildly different matter that made Harry's head ache with holding his breath because he didn't dare make a noise.

And he fell asleep.

He woke up hours later, feeling better rested than he had all of sixth year, in the complete darkness. Malfoy was clearly gone, and Harry had to feel along the walls for the light switch.

Clearly, he was deeply, neurologically ill. Because the idea of Malfoy's naked body putting him to sleep like a visual lullaby was ridiculous. Any part of Malfoy should disgust him. But Harry was tired of running and thinking and making exceptions for different people depending on what side they were. Something that felt good, felt good. That was enough for him now.

He went back. Malfoy took a bath every other night. At first it amused Harry to think what a prat Malfoy was, girlish, even--but he didn't mind. If he could watch Malfoy for an hour or so, and then go up to bed, he slept better that night. His dreams weren't as invaded with red eyes and death.

It was about a week or two into it when Harry noticed a definite change. Instead of the more relaxed demeanor, Malfoy adopted the familiar strut Harry saw during the school day. It took him about another week to find out why.

"I see you over there, Potter," Malfoy finally said one night, his eyes closed, his voice full of strained amusement.

Oh, shit. "Yeah?" Harry said, throwing caution to the winds. "Do you care?"

There was a pause. Clearly, this wasn't the reaction Malfoy expected.

"I didn't know you were queer, Potter. Although I'm sure anyone would love to see me naked." Strident arrogance.

"You're not that great, Malfoy."

"Neither are you, Potter. Which is why I don't understand your celebrity."

"Malfoy..." Harry said, standing up. "This is a ridiculous conversation."

Malfoy looked at him. "You've gotten tired of it, haven't you?"

Harry stopped in his tracks, spooked a little. "Of what, Malfoy?"

"Choosing."

Harry turned around. "What are you getting at?" he said impatiently.

"Do you ever feel like things don't need to be defined?" Malfoy said, his arrogance cracking a little as Harry looked him up and down. Malfoy swam to the edge of the tub, concealing himself.

Harry grinned. Self conciousness. It was surprising and it felt damn good.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I still don't understand what you're getting at."

"Git," Malfoy said. "You don't understand anything. Go to bed, Chosen One."

"Okay," Harry said. "But I understand more than you think."

"No, you don't," Malfoy snapped. "You don't understand how important it is. You just stumble into things."

Harry turned away from the door and leaned on it. "I don't understand how important what is?"

Malfoy's grey eyes were icy. "Go to bed."

Harry laughed. "Get out of the tub."

"What?"

"Get out of the tub, please, don't make me get out my wand."

Malfoy laughed. "You going to hit me with Expelliarmus, Potter?"

But he stood up and got out of the tub. Harry took a long, long look at him.

"Now I can go to bed," Harry said, tilting his head.

Malfoy wrapped a towel around himself. "You mean, go wank?"

"As I said earlier, Malfoy, you're not that special."

And he left the prefect bathroom with a smile on his face.