Draco fell asleep quickly, the exhaustion of the day's excitement finally catching up with him. He dreamed vividly, lucidly, and he wasn't alone.

Draco was in an unfamiliar corridor again. He remembered it from the night before, and was startlingly aware that he was dreaming. He turned around to check behind him and Harry was there. His infamous lightning-shaped scar was brightly visible and he regarded Draco with silent curiosity.

"Are you really here or is this part of the dream?" Draco asked.

"I'm here," Harry smiled warmly. He looked to be in perfect health. His hair was a mess and his round glasses were clean. He was wearing his school uniform beneath his standard black student robe. Draco looked down at his feet and noticed he was wearing white athletic socks.

"Where are your shoes?" he asked.

"They didn't cross over with me," Harry smiled ruefully.

Draco's heart squeezed. That smile. He was glad to see that smile. He tried to scowl to cover his reaction but Harry saw past his effort. He looked wonderingly at Draco and took a few shy steps forward.

"I'm really here," he said.

"That doesn't actually prove anything," Draco said dubiously. "My dream could be telling me it's real."

"Do you usually dream about me?" Harry asked.

"I have," Draco said honestly, then suddenly wished he hadn't answered. He felt vulnerable, less guarded, more sincere than he wanted to be.

"Have you?" Harry stepped forward and smiled again, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

"How can I know this is really you and not my brain?" Draco asked.

"How do I look? Better or worse than usual?" Harry joked.

"You look like you," Draco shifted uncomfortably.

"Is that a good or bad thing?" Harry asked, taking another step forward.

"Good," Draco cursed himself belatedly for not deflecting. "I don't like this hallway, can we leave?"

"It's your dream," Harry said. "I'm just tagging along."

Draco turned to the wall and pressed his hand against it. "I want a door here," he muttered. The stones pushed inward and swung to the side. Through the hole he could see the grounds of Hogwarts rolling away, a long, green, grassy hill leading down to the edge of the lake. "That worked nicely," he said.

"Can I come?" Harry asked.

He was at Draco's elbow, peering past the edge of the door frame to the warm sunlit landscape beyond. He smiled endearingly, an honest, open smile that made Draco's heart squeeze. He could feel himself soften, and before he could think twice he touched Harry's cheek. It was soft, with just the merest hint of stubble along his jaw. His skin was warm beneath Draco's palm, present and real and not at all like a dream or a phantom. He closed his eyes and leaned into Draco's touch, sighing contentedly.

Draco wrapped his arms around the other boy and pulled him into an embrace. He could feel Harry's heart beating against his, smell the warm soapy scent of his skin. He held him tightly and suddenly didn't feel like going outside anymore. He wanted to stay right where he was.

He woke slowly, awareness returning in increments. He opened his eyes and gazed up at the canopy overhead and realized that he had been asleep. He vividly remembered his dream from the night before and played it over in his mind. The lingering sense of comfort and security slowly faded as sleep left him.

He realized there was no warmth next to him in the bed. He sat up, concerned that something had happened during the night. "Harry?" he called. "Are you there?"

There was no answer. A terrible thought occurred to Draco: what if the previous day's encounter with the invisible Harry had been act one of an elaborate dreamscape? His heart beat painfully in his chest. If that were the case... he couldn't bear to complete the thought.

All notions of purely academic interest in Harry's disappearance were gone. He couldn't doublethink himself out of the truth anymore. And the truth was that he had been watching Harry for years, wishing he could bridge the divide between them but knowing it was a futile idea. He had chided himself yesterday for considering whether Harry's appearance was a hallucination, brought on by the distress of losing him so suddenly. Now, in the cool light of morning with no sign or sound of the other boy, it seemed like a distinct possibility.

"No," he told himself firmly as he climbed out of bed. He refused to believe it had been a trick of the mind. He found his clothes from the previous day and shuffled through them until his hand found a stiff tri-fold of parchment. He held it up defiantly. The Marauder's Map. It was proof that yesterday had happened, that Harry had guided Draco to his room to retrieve this artifact.

"Still nothing?"

Draco startled at the sound of Harry's voice. "There you are," he gasped.

"Sorry, I got bored waiting for sunrise," Harry's voice crossed the room to the bed.

"It's okay," Draco had to take a few breaths to control the overwhelming relief. It wouldn't do to tear up or quaver when he spoke.

"Were you worried?" Harry asked.

"Of course not," Draco lied. He placed the map on his desk and returned to the bed. He sat in a warm spot and jumped to his feet. "Sorry! Was that you?"

"You just sat in my lap," Harry laughed.

"Sorry," Draco was inexplicably flustered, to his dismay. "I think I need a shower," he tried to cover his awkward posturing by stretching and scrubbing his fingers through his hair. He knew Harry hadn't missed his nervousness.

"Can I come?" Harry asked teasingly.

"Don't push your luck," Draco said, then grabbed his shower caddy and headed down the hall.

He cranked the shower taps and climbed in with a sigh. He bathed at a relaxed pace, shampooed with lazy motions, and luxuriated in the relaxing hot spray. He wondered what they should try today to learn about the nature of Harry's disappearance. He was more motivated than ever to return Harry to his physical body. He'd sensed a hint of what was possible in his dream last night, and needed to know how real it could be.

He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He crossed to the sink and rinsed his razor for a quick shave. He lathered in his mug and brushed the foam across his chin with an experienced stroke. He raised his razor to his face and drew it lightly across his skin, then deposited the foam in the sink. He glanced up into the mirror and caught Harry smirking at him from the doorway.

"What are you smiling at, you git?" he asked through pursed lips as he pulled his cheek taut. His hand froze. He stared at Harry in the reflection. He whirled around to the doorway but there was no one there. He spun back to the mirror and there he was again, his expression shocked.

"Can you see me?" Harry whispered.

"Yes," Draco nodded breathlessly.

Harry ran to him and grasped his elbow. Draco could only feel the slight warm resistance, but there in the mirror was Harry Potter, messy black hair and round glasses and all, clutching his elbow and looking like he might cry.

"I see you!" Draco reached out and touched the cool glass. Behind his own reflection, the reflection of Harry reached out, too. He felt the familiar phantom warmth, but in the mirror Harry's fingers touched the back of his hand.

"Merlin," Harry gasped, then his face crumpled and he wept.