Harry bounced up and down in the middle of the street. It was, technically speaking, springtime, but a chill still bit the air, so he pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. He stood beside the statue of himself and his parents in Godric's Hollow, and he was waiting. He wondered if the person he was waiting on had ever even seen the statue. Nonetheless, the two had agreed that it was a good place to meet.

Harry was just about to check his watch for the fifty-sixth time when he heard the crack! of someone Apparating a few feet away. He turned and saw just the person he wanted to see…

"So, why'd you call me here, Potter?" Draco Malfoy spat. Harry coughed nervously.

"I- er… I wanted to talk to you. Alone."

Draco raised an eyebrow skeptically. "So you called me to Godric's Hollow. Where there are a bunch of wizards and Muggles just walking around."

"Follow me," Harry said, reaching out a hand tentatively. Draco hesitated, then took it. Harry led him up to his old house- the one his parents had died in. He opened the gate quietly, tugging Draco in after him. Only after they'd entered the house and settled in the kitchen did Harry speak.

"We'll be safe in now. Muggles don't know it's here, and I'm the only wizard who can enter, unless I invite someone. I have to be physically touching them, though. That's why I had to hold your hand."

"Ah…"

There was a long silence, during which Harry fiddled with his glasses and Draco stared at his hands. One of them in particular.

"Can we get this over with, Potter? I have things to do, you know."

Harry put his glasses on and began to speak. "Well… For a long time, now, I've been thinking about things, and I've realized that I need to tell you something. Something I should have said ages ago…"

"Spit it out, then!"

Harry took a deep breath.

"Draco… I'm in love with you… I've been for a while."

Draco sat straight up in his chair. This was not at all what he was expecting.

"That's… that's, er… that is… wow…" he stuttered. Harry backpedaled.

"I totally get if you don't feel the same way, but I just had to say it. I couldn't live with myself if I went my whole life knowing I hadn't said or done anything to show you."

Draco shook his head, as if to clear it. This wasn't happening. It was a dream. If he closed his eyes, he'd be back in his house, in his bed. He couldn't risk letting this go too far. He had to end it before he started believing it was real.

Before he got false hope.

"This can't be happening."

Harry's heart sank. He'd gone too far. He'd scared him off. He'd made himself look like an idiot. And for what? How could he have believed that the boy who'd taunted him relentlessly for seven years felt anything warmer than disgust? He sat down in a chair across the table from Draco.

"Fine. Just go, then. I'm sorry I wasted your time," Harry said in a flat monotone.

"No, it's not that… It's just… I'm in love with you, too."

He saw Harry's eyes grow wide, taking up most of his face, and the next thing Draco knew, he was engulfed in a black-haired, green-eyed embrace.

"Bloody Hell!" Draco muttered, squashed against Harry's chest. The latter took a step back, clearing his throat.

"Sorry. It's just… I never thought you'd actually… I mean, I never thought you felt… I mean, wow!"

"I know. It's understandable, though… We've been at each other's throats since first year. Who'd have guessed that we'd be-?"

"-perfect for each other?" Harry finished dreamily, grabbing Draco again and twirling him. Draco tried to manage a scowl, but his smile warped his face into something that resembled piece of cloth twisted around a fixed point.

"If you keep doing that, Potter, I'm out."

"Could you not call me 'Potter'? I'm Harry. Har-ry. And I'll call you… Dray."

"Oh, no. That is not happening," Draco protested.

"You don't like it?" Harry pouted melodramatically. "I came up with it in sixth year, and since then that's what I've been calling you in my head. I really don't think I'll be able to stop."

"You will stop. I am not going to be called 'Dray,'" Draco protested. His face, however, sang to a different tune…

Harry caught on. "You liiiiikeee iiiiiiiiit!" Harry sang, laughing. "You love it, don't you, Dray?"

"No, I don't. It's stupid. It's disrespectful to the proud name of-"

But Harry saw right through him. "No, you adore it. I'm calling you Dray forever now. Everywhere. At Honeydukes, on the Quidditch pitch, at your mum's for tea…"

Draco winced. "Er, Harry, about that… There's a reason I haven't told you my feelings before now…"

"Why is that, Oh Mysterious Malfoy?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Well, aside from the fact that my father was working to help the man who was trying to kill you," Draco shot back, "as I am the last one left to carry on the Malfoy legacy, I'll be having an arranged marriage to a pureblooded witch."

"Oh," Harry said, thinking. "We could keep it a secret! We can make it happen, Draco. I love you, and that's what counts."

Draco sighed. "Harry, you don't understand. The reason for the marriage is to produce an heir."

"So what?"

"So you'll get jealous. I don't think you'd be able to stand it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "What do you take me for, Dray? I can keep it together. I understand."

Draco shot a look at him when Harry used the dreaded nickname. "You may think so now, but when the time comes, you may not be so cool."

Harry took Draco's hand and looked him in the eyes, serious now. "Draco Malfoy. I love you. You love me. As long as I know those two things, I'll be fine. There's nothing more I could ask for."

Draco smiled. "If that's good enough for you, it'll be good enough for me."

Harry shook his head. "It's not good. It's the greatest."