"Brain dead idiot." Pansy chided softly, walking over to Potter's bed.
Draco's jaw tightened, he continued running one hand over soft dark hair.
"You're falling, aren't you."
His eyes softened "Am I?"
"You're petting his hair at this ungodly hour in a chilly, reeking, antiseptic room." Her eyes widened. "I'm wrong, aren't I? You've already fallen. Hard."
His voice deepened, whisper soft, "Maybe I have."
Reaching over, ruffling his hair "Of course you have."
Eyes darkened, "Bloody hell, I've buggered it but good this time."
She smiled, "Doesn't matter."
"Why is that?"
"He fell as well, harder."
Draco smiled, "Maybe."
~h~h~h~h~h~h~h~h~h~h~h~h~h~h~h
Soft tingling touches coursed over his head. Darkness and the chill of the hospital wing swept over him. Feeling fuzzy and brain dead he murmured "Who?"
"Shh, rest you great prat." A warm chiding whisper replied.
"Draco?"
"SHhh, as in quiet. Do you want Pomfrey to wake up?"
"No… But what are you?"
"I came to say thank you… and to apologize."
"You mean… You'll… We can start over? Be friends?"
"I was hoping… for rather more then that, Potter." A touch ghosted gently over his lips.
Gasping, "I'd like that."
Murmuring, "Would you?" warm sweet lips closed over his.