Hey guys, I'm so sorry it's taken so long! Things suddenly went crazy, but now another term at my ridiculous uni is over and I've got some time to finish stories :) There will be one more chapter for this, and I'll post it very soon!

I know it was meant to be a Christmas story, but it's snowing in London so that's almost the same thing, right? :P

Both Hermione and Draco laid awake that night thinking. Cogs were spinning around in their minds, clicking into place with a speed few others could have imitated. If Hermione was the brightest witch of her generation, then Draco was clearly the brightest wizard. Eventually they both fell into deep sleeps, their lips curling in a frighteningly identical way, expressions reminiscent of those worn by evil cupids...

Hermione Granger and Dean Thomas sat in a small hidden alcove watching the snow fall onto the grass of one of the smaller quads and seemed to be waiting for something. A robin sitting on the branch of a bare tree partially covering the alcove suddenly tweeted and the two Gryffindors promptly shared a significant look before launching into the middle of a conversation.

"I still find it difficult to believe," said Dean Thomas sounding completely incredulous, "that Harry, Harry Potter, is in love with Draco Malfoy. I mean it's obvious he feels that way, but why?"

A sudden gasp seemed to echo around the quad and had anyone been looking, they would have seen a suddenly deathly pale blonde seem to collapse against a wall, holding it for support.

"Ssshhh, someone might hear!" reprimanded Hermione, a smirk playing across her features belying the words. "But yes, Dean, I don't understand it either. I guess he just can't help how he feels. But look, you can't tell anyone, not ever. Especially not him. Harry wouldn't be able to bear it."

"Ok, ok, I've already promised," Dean replied, his face slightly pinched as if trying to hold in laughter. They had both heard the unmistakable sound of somebody dropping to their knees and shuffling forwards. "But why won't he just tell Malfoy? At least if he knew, then Harry might have a chance."

"Are you joking? Harry knows that Malfoy hates him. If Malfoy found out, he would torture Harry about his feelings. We all know him capable of that. No, Harry would rather die than tell Malfoy the truth."

The faint shuffling sound was heard again. Hermione and Dean could well imagine the shock on Malfoy's face. Thankfully for their composures, they were unable to see him around the corner of the alcove, on his hands and knees, his pert bottom slightly in the air. Never had Draco Malfoy been in such a position. In his life.

"But surely anything is better than the way it is now," Dean continued. "Harry is making himself ill. He's so in love that he's stopped eating, he's stopped sleeping. I'm seriously worried about his health. I've never seen him this way before! And when he does sleep, he keeps the whole dorm awake with his moaning. Something has to change!"

"If only there was some way to make him fall in love with someone else," Hermione sighed. "Harry is such an amazing person- he's so kind and strong and powerful, and incredibly good looking... if only he were straight!"

"Or attracted to me! God I'd leave Martin in the time it took to blink, if I thought I had a chance with Harry. What a waste! He's so perfect and Malfoy is just so... Malfoy! I really don't know what Harry sees in him..." Dean seemed to raise his voice for a second. "Malfoy's such a prick! He's so arrogant and even downright cruel. For fuck's sake, he's never said anything even remotely nice to Harry! Ever. He is such a bastard."

"But Harry doesn't seem to think so, does he? He hasn't said a negative thing about Malfoy in ages. God, he even defends him! Even though it clearly hurts him to say his name... Dean, I'm actually afraid for him. I've never seen him so dejected and sad in his life! I'm worried... I'm worried he might do something stupid."

"No!" Dean cried out in exaggerated horror, covering the audible gasp which had forced itself out of the eavesdropper.

"Yes." Hermione said solemnly. "If only he were in love with someone else. Someone who would accept his love and reciprocate it wholeheartedly. Someone who wouldn't hide him away like a dirty secret, but would stand by his side publicly."

"Well, Malfoy would never do that now, would he?" Dean said, smirking slightly as he raised his voice again. "He'd never have the balls!"

Hermione found it difficult to hold in her snort. "Guess we'll never find out," she said. "Malfoy will never know, will he?"

"I guess not... by the way, Hermione, how long will you keep up the charade with Malfoy?" Dean said. "Surely it's hurting Harry... I still don't know why you two are pretending!"

"I don't know, Dean... let's talk about it some other time, we need to get to lunch" Hermione said and got up, gathering her books in her arms. She almost burst out laughing when she heard someone frantically scrambling away. "What was that?" she called, gratified to hear a terrified squeak before the sound of footsteps had disappeared completely.

For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy was completely struck dumb. His mind was blank, his heart was thudding, he felt like he was going to be sick. Harry Potter was in love with him. The words didn't make sense to him. He tried to focus on their meaning, but they just became jumbled up in some kind of meaningless whirl of letters inside his mind. Draco thought he might faint, he couldn't breathe. He fell back onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling without knowing how he had arrived there and without realising that that was where he was at all. Draco Malfoy had lost the ability for coherent thought, and it didn't seem likely that he would regain it for many hours to come.

Hermione was incredibly glad that she had kept her storage of complex potions which she had carried with her throughout the war. Hermione was especially thrilled that she had kept the polyjuice potion. However, it was the collection of hairs in Hermione's possession which thrilled her the most. She had collected the hairs of various people, on the light and on the dark side alike, throughout the years, always suspecting that they may come in handy in defeating Voldemort. Apparently she had forgotten to dispose of them after the dark lord's death.

Only half an hour had passed since Draco Malfoy had collapsed on his bed, when Harry Potter heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks. His hand hovered in the air, still clutching the book about advanced transfiguration he had been looking for. He daren't move, daren't breathe, lest the people on the other side of the bookshelves notice his presence.

"Draco's mooning over Potter again", he heard Blaise Zabini's voice drawl. "Won't leave his fucking bed. Doesn't want anyone to see he's been crying. Again."

"Crying?!" Pansy Parkinson's high pitched voice squeaked. "I didn't realise it was that bad!"

"The bloke's bloody obsessed! It's Potter this, Potter that, why won't Potter ever love me? It never ends! And then after listening to him whine for half a shitting hour, he always makes me swear never to tell anyone. He says that he would die if Potter found out."

Harry's arm was getting sore and he was starting to feel faint from the lack of oxygen his body was receiving. He hardly noticed though. Eventually he sucked in a breath before clapping his hand over his mouth, scared that the Slytherins had heard him. But apparently they remained oblivious.

"It's such a bloody waste, isn't it?" Zabini continued. "He's so hot and smart. He can even be nice if he tries hard enough. Anyone would be lucky to have him. And instead he's crying over that Gryffindor arse and refuses to do anything about it!"

"He'll get over it eventually though, won't he?" Parkinson sounded concerned. "I mean, he can't stay in love with him forever, right?"

"Seriously, Pans, I don't know... He's making himself ill, he's obsessing so much! He's even neglecting his work, hasn't done his own homework in weeks, he's been paying us to do it. He normally takes so much pride in being best in everything, but now... Merlin, I'm scared he's going to... you know..."

"Know what?"

"You know... do something... stupid."

With that the two Slytherins walked off and Harry collapsed onto the floor, the transfiguration book completely forgotten. It didn't even register with him that he hadn't seen Malfoy talking to Zabini or Parkinson in weeks. Or that Zabini and Parkinson should actually be under the impression that Malfoy and Hermione were together. Actually, nothing registered with Harry. He just sat there staring at the book shelves, completely oblivious to everything around him.

Half way between the library and Gryffindor common room, Hermione Granger and Dean Thomas were clutching each other and laughing so hard, they would have been rolling around on the floor had they not been holding each other up. Barely.

That evening at dinner, a certain Slytherin and a certain Gryffindor sent each other shy glances every few seconds, blushing should their eyes meet, neither touching their food. No one noticed apart from Hermione, Dean and a pair of dark, intense eyes staring down from the high table. Had anyone been paying attention closely enough, they would have noticed a slight line of confusion marring Severus Snape's usually stoic face.

Harry couldn't take the tension anymore and abruptly stood, leaving the great hall even before desert had been served. He was so confused- how could what he had heard be real? Surely Malfoy couldn't reciprocate his feelings? But why would Parkinson and Zabini lie? And if he felt nothing, why had Malfoy been staring at him through dinner?

He was walking through the corridor leading to the Gryffindor common room when Harry realised he was being followed. He stopped and turned so quickly that his chaser was caught completely unaware. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy stood in the corridor staring at each other, neither moving and neither saying a word, afraid to break the silence.

The space between them closed suddenly in a wild rush. Neither knew who had moved first. Hands were in hair, lips, tongues and teeth were clashing, thrusting, consuming and their moans and groans intermingled and became one.

Harry was the first to break away, driven by the desperate need to breathe. He gasped in a deep breath before moaning "Draco" and diving back in, devouring the blonde with a passion that left Draco's heart pounding and his dick throbbing.

This time Draco tore himself away, only to whisper Harry's name before pushing him back against a wall, possibly against a protesting portrait, and reclaiming his lips. One of his hands was in Harry's wild, surprisingly soft hair, the other was grasping his hip, holding him tight against the wall. Harry reciprocated by sliding one of his hands out of the white-blonde hair and down Draco's back before grasping one of his arse cheeks and pulling their groins together, resulting in simultaneous groans of pleasure and desperation.

Two minutes later and they were thrusting against each other, almost manically, moaning and groaning, suckling and biting. Suddenly Draco pressed his face into Harry's hot neck, thrusting himself against the saviour one last time, as hard as he could, trying to mesh their bodies together, before his whole body stiffened and he came in his trousers, gasping out Harry's name and promptly tearing Harry into his own orgasm. Harry's vision went white and he came harder than he ever had before. His knees buckled and he could no longer support himself, sinking to the floor and pulling Draco with him.

The two sat there, arm in arm, silent except for their harsh breathing echoing through the, thankfully, empty corridor.