Hello, Readers :)
My housemate is Chinese and refuses to alter his body clock to English times. My other housemate is a struggling postgraduate student who works several jobs to make ends meet. I have chronic insomnia. Move over Golden Trio, the Singing-Disney-songs-in-Mandarin-and-eating-cereal-together-at-4-a.m. Trio is here.

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Harry sat, bored, in the Gryffindor common room. He turned sideways in his armchair, throwing his legs over one of the arms and leaning back against the other. He sat for all of thirty seconds before letting out a loud sigh and swinging his legs over the back of the chair, lying across the seat, his head dangling off the edge and his hair just grazing the floor. When he went to change positions again he was forced to act more quickly in order to dodge a heavy tome launched at him from the couch opposite.

"Will you stop fidgeting!" Hermione hissed, angry and loud enough to turn a few heads in their direction.

Harry sat back down in the chair normally, the book cradled in his lap, and he ducked his head sheepishly, "Sorry."

Hermione let out her own exasperated sigh but took pity on him, "What's the matter, Harry? You've been on edge for the last couple of days. Weeks, actually, now I think about it. You seem awfully distracted, and you've clearly not been sleeping. What's on your mind?"

"Draco Malfoy." Harry answered her truthfully.

That simple statement was enough to gain the attention of Ron Weasley, and the redhead looked up with an ugly sneer, "I knew it! I knew that git was up to something! I knew he was just hanging off you like a wet blanket because he was up to something. What's the slimy bastard done?"

Harry frowned, thoughtful. Draco didn't hang off Harry. If anything, Harry hung off Draco; it was always Harry that sought him out, not the other way around. All of their conversations and interactions since that day in the bathroom two months ago had been initiated by Harry. "He hasn't done anything," he said, "I'm just worried about him."

"Why would you be worried about that snake?"

The brunette just shrugged noncommittedly, thoughts still occupied by a certain Slytherin. Did Draco like Harry being around? Did he mind him always forcing his way into his personal space? Or was he just tolerating him, or using him for protection? So far, Harry had kept him from being on the business end of a variety of nasty hexes and curses more times than he could count. Was that the only reason Draco allowed him near? He frowned deeper.

"Look," Hermione called out to Harry, bringing him back to Earth, "It's obvious you two have grown closer. I don't know how I feel about that, but you promised Dumbledore you would look after him, so I understand why, and why you're worried. But I don't think you need to be."

"Why's that?"

"The two of you are pretty formidable when you team up, if I'm being honest. I almost pity those that have tried to harm him." Hermione knew there was more plaguing Harry's thoughts than what he'd let on and deemed it necessary to give her best friend her full attention. She set down her quill, pushing away the assignment she had been working on. "As loath as I am to admit it, and as shocking as this may seem considering who he is, I don't think you need to worry about his intentions, either. He might be a stereotypical Slytherin through and through, but he's different with you, I've seen it. We've all seen it. Merlin, I think even Ron noticed."

"I haven't noticed anything, what are you on about?"

The witch rolled her eyes to the ceiling as if praying to the god of brick and stone to give her the strength to deal with her unobservant, stubborn friend. "My point is," She continued, leaning towards Harry and outright ignoring Ron, "You…affect him. He's blunt and honest with you, and only with you. Incredibly, even more so now that you two appear to be on civil terms. Yes, he's mean, and snarky, and rather unpleasant to be around, but he's never lied to you. And, he has no qualms about telling you what he's thinking. He never pulls his punched or minces his words. I think if he genuinely needed your help he would ask you for it, and if he needed you to worry about him he would tell you to worry." Her eyes lit up, as if a bulb had gone off in her brain, the puzzle pieces of her mind clicking together to reveal a whole new picture. "And, I think if he didn't want you around he would tell you to your face that he didn't want you around…sarcasm excluded."

Harry's frown slowly morphed into a small, dopey grin as her words sunk in. She was right. Of course she was. She always was. "Thank you, Hermione," He smiled warmly at his best friend, ignoring the confused, scrunched up, freckled face of his other best friend. "I'm going to go see Malfoy. See you guys later."

Ron guffawed loudly, doing a rather good impression of a donkey-fish hybrid, "Wait, what? What's going on? Why would you want to go see Malfoy?"

Hermione seemed to be praying for more strength, but this time from the gods of the fireplace. Her head snapped back round to Harry as the young male moved to get up and leave. "Wait," She called, "Whilst I'm…glad that you two are…friends now," the usually articulate witch seemed to be struggling to find the right choice of words to use, "I don't think it's particularly wise to be sneaking out after curfew to visit him. I'm sure you won't be welcome in his common room, and I'm sure he doesn't want to risk being caught out roaming the castle, either. If I'm right, he wants to be Head Boy next year."

"Of course! Hermione, what an excellent suggestion. I'll invite him here instead." Harry leapt up with a grin, heading towards the entrance with a slight sway in his hips.

"Wait, that's not what I-"

"See you in little while, guys. I'll make sure to tell Malfoy it was you that invited him, Hermione, don't you worry. He'll be thrilled!" Harry called back from halfway out the doorway. He ignored the chaos that erupted at his words; he'd spoken loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. He blew the witch a kiss before waltzing away.

Hermione just stared as the portrait swung shut before letting her head fall onto the desk in front of her with a not so soft thunk. These boys will be the death of me, she thought to herself defeatedly.

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Harry felt oddly relaxed standing in front of the Slytherin common room entrance. He knocked on the cold brick, hoping he was at the right section of wall, but the memories of that time he and Ron snuck in were starting to fade and jumble. After a short while a tall, dark skinned boy with a handsome, chiselled face opened the concealed entrance. The Slytherin stared at him blankly, as if having Harry Potter on his doorstep was just a mild inconvenience.

"Hi, Zabini, isn't it?" Harry offered him a smile, but it wasn't returned. "I'm here to see Malfoy."

Blaise Zabini let his eyes roam down then up Harry's body, and the shorter male fought not to squirm under the cold, calculating judgment. Blaise seemed to be satisfied by something he found in his assessment as he shrugged half-heartedly, stepping back and gesturing for Harry to enter.

Harry threw him another smile over his shoulder, but Blaise just rolled his dark eyes as he followed him down the narrow stairs and into the common room. Ignoring the looks and the whispers he got, Harry took a moment to look around the room. It looked exactly the same as it had in his second year; all black and green furniture, bright candles, and a floor to ceiling window taking up an entire wall that looked into the Black Lake. He wondered what it looked like in the daylight and hoped he would get to see it at some point. "Hey, Slytherins," He called cheerfully.

He ignored those that glared at his welcome but took the time to nod politely at those that acknowledged him with neutral intrigue and curiosity. His eyes swept the room, seeking out a familiar head of platinum blonde. He wasn't surprised to see Draco sitting quietly on his own, separate from the rest of his House as if behind a thick, invisible wall. He was happy when Blaise stepped around him and joined Draco at the desk, immediately ducking his head to continue working on what looked like a shared assignment. Draco, though, had stopped his studies as soon as Harry had walked in, and had been staring at him with a small smile and quirked eyebrow ever since.

"Hey, Malfoy," Harry greeted happily.

"Hello, Potter." Draco stood up. "What are you doing h-oomf," He was cut off as Harry pulled him into an unexpected hug, squeezing him tightly before releasing him with a dopey grin.

"I'm seeing you in your natural habitat, so I feel like we've hit the hugging stage of our friendship, no?" Draco didn't respond to his question, just giving him an affectionate smile with kind eyes, and that was enough. Harry knew that looks like that meant more from the ice prince than words. "I came to see you," Harry announced, "I was bored."

"Well, alright," Draco spoke easily, most of his tension vanished. It seemed some of Harry's carefree, confident nature was rubbing off on him. "Join us at the desk, if you'd like."

Blaise's eyes raised at that. He once again shot Harry with that indecipherable, appraising look before he caught Draco's eye, gave a small nod, and returned to his textbook as if nothing had happened. Harry snorted, deciding he liked the quiet, reserved Slytherin.

"No, I'm okay, thanks. I have better manners than to overstay my welcome in a place where I am most definitely not welcome," Harry said loud enough for his voice to carry, sweeping his arm out to indicate the other occupants of the room. At his gesture several heads ducked and looked away from where they were obviously eavesdropping on the conversation. "I actually came to invite you back to my common room."

"Because I'm sure I'll be met with open arms there," Draco drawled out sarcastically in a tone he had quite obviously stolen from his godfather.

Harry nodded assuredly, "Of course! It was actually Hermione's idea to invite you." Draco just stared at him, nonplussed. "Well…kind of."

"I don't think it's a good idea, Harry."

"Of c-huh." Harry cut himself off, staring up into Draco's face with wide, childlike eyes that shone with playful delight, "You called me Harry."

"I…I guess I did."

Harry had the audacity to hug him again, and Draco only half tried to resist before relinquishing when Harry refused to let go. He wrapped his arms round the smaller frame, giving a quick, tight embrace before forcefully shoving the excitable boy off.

"So, you're coming to Gryffindor, then?"

"I never said that."

The brunette pouted, aiming for stubborn determination but landing closer to sulking puppy, "Oh, come on. It won't be that bad. What have you got to lose?"

My reputation, dignity, pride, Draco thought to himself, but then he sighed. Who was he trying to kid? He didn't have any of that anymore, not since his status as a traitor to the Dark had been made common knowledge. He was nothing now, just another Hogwarts student. One with great grades and even greater hair, granted, but he didn't matter anymore, not like he used to. He was just another student that did ordinary student thing like sneaking out after curfew with a troublemaking friend. It was cliché, and normal, and exceedingly ordinary, but maybe he could use a little bit of ordinary right now.

"Nothing. Let's go." Draco couldn't stop himself from smiling back when Harry grinned at him with pure, genuine joy.

The brunette went to leave but halted mid turn, "Wait, why don't you go and grab some pyjamas? It's late already, you might as well stay over."

"A sleepover? We're not twelve-year-old girls, Harry." Now that he was allowing himself to say it, he had to admit, the feel of the other's name so casually rolling off his tongue was rather pleasant.

"You can identify as anything you want to, Draco, I won't judge you. This is a safe space."

"Fuck off, Potter," Draco quipped as he walked away across the common room. He stopped at what appeared to be the entrance to a long corridor, looking over his shoulder with a puzzled, questioning, and strangely impatient frown at Harry, who was still stood by the desk. "Well? Are you coming or not?"

Harry hesitated, confused, but quickly realised that Draco was inviting him into his dormitory. Scratch that, he had expected Harry to just follow him in as if that were the most natural thing in the world to do. He scampered after him, grinning. All doubts that Draco didn't feel the same about their bizarre, and still rather new, friendship vanished in that small but so meaningful moment.

The Gryffindor was a little disappointed that the Slytherin sixth year boys' dorms was an exact mirror of his own, just with a different colour scheme and no natural light. His interest reignited as he followed Draco over to his bed. As Draco rummaged through his trunk, Harry wandered over to the bedside table, looking at the knickknacks and trinkets neatly arranged on top. There was a snitch, a neatly folded green and silver tie, and some expensive looking toiletries. Harry picked up one of the small glass bottles and gave it an experimental sniff. He instantly recognised it as the sweet but fresh smell of lavender and mint that seemed to accompany Draco wherever he went. He took another deeper smell and must have sighed audibly because a blonde head popped up from behind the top of his open trunk with a curious look.

"I found your cologne," Harry held it up in explanation, "I really like it. I always think you smell really nice."

Draco blushed, his pale skin turning a rosy pink. "It's actually a woman's perfume from a muggle store just outside of Diagon Alley. A salesperson was outside the shop with different swatches of scents. I was young and rich, she spotted me from a mile off and cornered me. I liked that one myself, I didn't realise it was for women until after I bought it. I've been wearing it for a few years now; I always gave my parents the slip so I could buy some more whenever we went shopping."

Harry shrugged, giving the bottle one last sniff before setting it down, "Who cares? Whoever decided smells of all things should be gendered was an idiot. Or are you more embarrassed that it's muggle? Because honestly, I don't like magical toiletries. They're too strong, and always have that slight potion-y feel, you know?"

Draco just smiled warmly as Harry rambled, his embarrassment gone completely. If he could, he would slap past him for not seeing beyond his own overwhelming judgment to see that Harry was in fact one of the least judgmental people he had ever known. He was so stupid to have not noticed this side of Harry; it was so obvious, such an engrained part of his essence. He thought back to late night conversations he'd had with his favourite cousin, Tonks, remembering how they had told him that Harry had just shrugged and said 'cool' when they'd come out to him as agender, and was one of the very few who used their correct pronouns and chosen name. he remembered seeing Harry laughing and talking with Luna Lovegood, showing the unpopular and unusual girl true friendship without hesitation or ulterior motives. He had observed how Harry seemed to be the only non-Weasley who could tell the Weasley twins apart, besides their best friend Lee Jordan, because he had bothered to get to know them as individuals. After a joint Slytherin and Gryffindor training session, he had silently watched as Harry yelled at his quidditch team in the boys' changing rooms for relentlessly bullying Dean Thomas when a rumour was spread that the chaser was gay.

Harry continued his perusing of Draco's belongings, letting himself fall back lazily onto the soft green bedding as he held a wizard photograph over his head. It was of a much younger, possibly pre-Hogwarts, Draco and his mother. They faced the camera with detached, blank expressions. However, every now and then they would turn to each other with small but happy smiles. The picture originally held a third person, but a jagged tear along one edge meant that this person was only visible by one arm and a hand that sat firmly on photo-Draco's shoulder. When photo-Draco turned to smile at his mother the hand would give a visible, painful squeeze, and the young Malfoy would give a barely concealed wince before returning to his dead-eyed stare at the camera. Harry watched the cycle a few times, knowing the hand must belong to Lucius Malfoy, and wondered whether Draco had deliberately torn his father out of the picture.

He returned the photo back to its place before sprawling more comfortably atop Draco's bed. He brought his pillow up and round, hugging it tightly to his chest. It was too big and fluffy to be a Hogwarts standard issue one, and he knew Draco must have either bought it himself or brought it from home. "What are you doing, Draco? Are you ready to go?"

Draco stood up, closing his trunk. "Just gathering some overnight stuff. I'll get my toothbrush from the bathroom and then I will be. I-" He broke off as he finally looked up from dusting imaginary dirt from his pristine black trousers. His gaze landed on Harry curled up on his sheets, spooning his pillow, his glasses askew and hair a complete mess. "I…yes, toothbrush. Right." Draco muttered to himself, shaking his head slightly before rushing off in the direction of the bathroom.

Harry just hummed his assent, burying his face deeper into the impossibly soft pillow. He wondered what it would be like to sleep on something so luxurious. Maybe he could convince Draco to let him sleep over in Slytherin one night. His eyes landed on the bed next to Draco's and realised it belonged to Vincent Crabbe. Maybe he shouldn't be too hasty in planting that particular idea into Draco's head after all. Ron and Neville were bad enough, he couldn't imagine waking up bright and early to the faces of Crabbe and Goyle every morning. He blanched at the unwelcomed mental image of seeing the two get ready, of getting dressed and, more sickeningly, undressed. He didn't think a mountain of fancy pillows could make up for that horror.

"If you're done molesting my pillow, Harry, I'm ready to go," Draco announced as he stepped out of the bathroom, his overnight bag tucked neatly under one arm. He watched amusedly as Harry heaved himself up from the bed, looking like it cost him significantly more energy than should be necessary, and relinquished the pillow with a final squeeze and a longing look. "It's not going anywhere. It's not a lover you're sending off to war, it will be right where you left it next time you see it."

"…Next time?"

"Fuck off, Potter."

Harry gave him a warm, amused smile, but his eyes held a glint of sincerity, "I was asking seriously, you know. Does that mean I'm allowed to come back?"

"Well, yeah, why not?" Draco gave him that same puzzled look he had when he realised Harry hadn't followed him to the dorms. "I obviously like your company, scarhead, otherwise you wouldn't even be here in the first place. Why would I object to a friend visiting?"

The Gryffindor could think of many reasons, but the warm, fuzzy feeling in his stomach seemed to spread up through his chest and clamp his mouth shut. So, he just smiled, offering a hand to Draco and allowed the blonde to gently pull him out of the dorm and back towards the common room. Harry, expecting his hand to be dropped as soon as they came into eyesight of the other students, blinked owlishly at the back of Draco's head when the grip not only didn't drop, but tightened. He was well aware that he was more physically affectionate than Draco and that, while Draco was comfortable and reciprocal of the occasional small physical sign of friendship in private, he hated the feeling of being judged by the public. It was obvious that pureblood families, or at least the very traditional ones, and those that valued the old ways were strongly opposed to displays of emotion. His mind drifted back to Draco's photo and the eerily blank stare he'd already mastered at such a young age.

Draco continued to lead Harry through the common room, determinedly ignoring the stares and not quite quiet enough whispers. They exited the dungeons and began the walk up to the Gryffindor Tower at a slow, leisurely pace, enjoying the peaceful still of the castle at night.

Harry spoke up softly, not wanting to disturb the moment, "You know, you don't have to do this." He gently swung their still clasped hands together in indication.

"I know," Draco murmured back, his pretty, almost musical voice drifting through the cool air, "But I see you with everyone else. You hug and kiss all your friends hello. You hold hands with all the girls, and even some of the guys, if they'll let you. You like to touch the people you're near, especially if you're talking to them. I know you like stuff like this."

Harry went to pull away, but strong fingers wouldn't let him, "And I know you hate it. Don't make yourself do things you're not comfortable with just to please me, Draco."

"But, don't you see, I am comfortable with it," Draco clarified, walking a little closer to Harry's side. "I like that stuff too. Or at least, I think I do. I like it because you like it, but I also like it because it's you." He frowned, his words sounding confusing even to his own ears, and judging by the searching look Harry gave him, they made even less sense to him. "You're right, I normally hate this stuff. I hated it when Pansy, or Theo, or anyone would touch me. However, I like it with you. You're…different. I don't know why, but you are. And, I know this might be asking too much, but I don't want the friendship between you and me to be any different than that between you and your other friends. I know we haven't been friends long, but I want to be your friend properly." He broke off from his uncharacteristic rambling, refusing to meet Harry's eyes. He didn't know what had come over him, but right here, right now, he felt as if he had swallowed a cauldron of veritaserum. It was like that day back in Myrtle's bathroom all over again, that day that felt so long ago now, when the mere presence of the other boy had made him want to confess his sins and bare his soul for judgement. "I want you to treat me like you treat them, to allow me to be as close to you as they are." Draco sighed, ducking his head, his long, silvery hair hiding his eyes. "I kind of wish I could be more like them."

"You and me, we are different, though," Harry replied. He quickly elaborated before Draco could take his response the wrong way, "I want you and me to be different. You…you're not like them. You're different. We're different. There's me and you, us, and then there's them. I don't want you to become one of them. I know it's selfish, but I like this, like us, whatever us means."

The two continued on their path in silence, both lost in thought, mulling over their own feelings and those revealed by the other. Harry took a deeper breath, drawing Draco's attention back, "Are you…are you jealous that I'm close with my friends?"

Draco thought over the significance of the words, the implications, but quickly dismissed them. "No. At least, not in the way I think you mean." His voice was quiet, but the certainty and truth of his words rang clear, "Why would I begrudge you such happiness? Maybe I wish I had a few people like that myself, people that would stick by me no matter what, but I love that you get to have that. You deserve to have that."

"You deserve it too," Harry stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'm sorry the Slytherins and your family turned on you. It's cruel and unfair. I hope you find people that are worthy of your friendship."

The silence fell once more as they begun the final leg of the journey, ambling up the spiral staircase that lead to the Gryffindor Tower. "You know, you shouldn't wish to be like them, anyway," Harry mused aloud.

"I'm starting to understand that," Draco caught his eye, sharing a small, affectionate smile, "But go on?"

"Well, if anything, they should be jealous of you," Harry said, his eyes glinting playfully in the moonlight that shone through the slit like windows. "We've been friends for what, a few months, and I'm already breaking school rules to see you, and jumping into the figurative, and literal, snake pit just because I wanted to spend time with you. And, you're already occupying more of my dream-space than anyone else ever has, or rather, my awake-space as I can't sleep because of you." Harry stilled, his rambling coming to an abrupt halt. A hand flew to cover his mouth, but it was already too late, the words had escaped him. He cursed himself for letting himself get so sleep deprived. He had never meant to tell Draco so many personal, and not to mention embarrassing, details. However, his exhausted brain seemed to have lowered all his filters, inhibitions, and defences.

Draco froze, staring at him with wide eyes before they became hooded, a smirk quirking up the corner of his lips, "You're dreaming about me?"

Harry cleared his throat, ducking his head, "I think we established that I haven't been sleeping, made quite obvious by my very delirious brain that should a hundred percent not be listened to."

"Oh, so is that what it is? Are thoughts of me keeping you up all night?" He attempted to keep his voice light, taunting, but it came out too dark, too lilting.

Harry gulped, preparing a lie or claim of innocence, but knew that with Draco this close, any deviation from the truth would be seen through immediately, "I…yeah, I guess."

Draco felt his teasing retort die on his lips as something flashed across Harry's face before it turned away to stare fixedly at the ground. He placed a hand on the shorter man's cheek, coaxing his head up, locking green eyes with grey and searching for something unknown and unnamed in their depths as best he could in the dim light. He felt himself drifting closer to Harry, their breaths mingling. He didn't know what he was doing, what he should do, what he wanted to do. He closed his eyes with a sigh, leaning down to rest their foreheads together. "What are we?" he breathed out, not sure if he was directing the question at Harry or himself.

"Does it matter?" Harry felt Draco hesitate before shaking his head almost imperceptivity, "Then it doesn't matter. We're just us, and we're different."

Stormy silver eyes met impossibly green ones once more before Draco slowly pulled away, realising only now that he had crowded Harry up against the cold stone wall. He faltered for a moment, a strange, unrecognisable feeling simultaneously weighing down his stomach and turning his mind to air. When Harry gave him a small, tentative, but happy smile, he continued them on their path to the Gryffindor rooms. A smile seemed to be permanently etched on his own face, and the heavy weight in his stomach appeared to have morphed into a thousand butterflies, and some of those butterflies must have escaped to his hand, because it tingled wherever Harry's skin touched his. He couldn't keep his eyes from Harry's face, only glancing away to make sure he didn't send them both tumbling down the tall, narrow stairs. He knew that the wondrous looks and crooked grins he was getting in return were things he wanted to see many, many more times in the future.

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To Be Continued (within 48 hours).

Happy Reading,
Love,
Bambi x