A/N: This was a Submission for AshCastle's Valentine's Day Challenge on Tumblr.
"It's freezing out here," Harry says as he wraps his arms around himself in a bid to keep himself warm. He's not even sure why they're outside at almost midnight in the middle of February, walking around the lake and trying not to slip. Harry remembers how cold that lake can be in the day in February, he has no intention of finding out how cold it is at night.
"I know, you'll be fine, it'll warm up soon."
Harry stops and stares at Draco. He still doesn't remember when "Malfoy" became "Draco" in his head but he can't think of him as Malfoy any more. Malfoy was a spoiled and whiny child, Draco's lived through a war and saw the beliefs he had been brought up with almost destroy his family.
Draco turns to look at Harry. "Trust me, Potter."
"Merlin help me," Harry mumbles before he starts walking forward again. "This had better be worth it, Draco."
They walk towards a grove of trees that Harry had noticed a few times while he was in school but never felt the urge to investigate. In a space between the trees stood a stone, different to the other Standing Stones on Hogwarts grounds.
"It's a Pictish Sculptured Stone," Draco tells him. "It's dedicated to Óengus and there's supposed to be magic in it that means only certain people can see it."
The stone is huge, at least as tall as Hagrid, if not taller. Harry stares at it as he listens to Draco talk.
"Óengus is a Celtic god, a lot of Picts were named for him, including the last king of Moray." Draco moves so he's stood next to Harry and twines their fingers together. "He's said to be the God of love and the inventor of kisses." his last words are whispered low, and Harry can feel his warm breath on his ear.
He hasn't kissed anyone in almost two years. Ginny on his seventeenth birthday was the last one. He's not sure if kissing a boy will be different but it has to at least be better than the one kiss he shared with Cho.
It's so much better.
It's intense in a way his interactions with Malfoy always were; it's tender in the way he's learnt Draco is now; it's fire and heat and an aching need to never let go, to hold on to it even if it kills him. He's never known it could be like this.
They break apart after what could have been seconds or years for all the attention they paid.
"How'd you do it?" Harry asks, confusion in his eyes and desperation to understand tinting his tone. "How the hell did you make me fall in love with you without me realising?"
