Transfiguration Class, 11AM, 15th October

Harry was ignoring Professor Mcgonagall, letting his quill take notes for him, and thinking back to Saturday night. In Honeydukes, Draco had insisted on buying a bag of everything Harry hadn't tried before (which meant buying about half the shop). They had then gone back to Hogwarts, and chilled out near the Great Lake until it had gotten too dark. Harry had walked Draco back to the Slytherin common room (underneath the safety of the Invisibility Cloak), then he had wandered back to his own. In the semi-privacy of his dorm he had gotten rid of his disguise and then gone to greet Hermione, Ron and Neville in the common room, who had raved about the awesome day they had had and insisted that Harry should have come instead of practising Quidditch on his own. And he had listened intently and sworn on his broom that the next time they went out, he would join them.
"Harry?" Ron asked, dragging him back to the present.
"Yeah?"
"Your quill is rebelling. It's been writing nonsense for the past two minutes." Ron pointed out. Harry looked down.
Hey Harry. I'm bored, wanna chat? You paying attention to McGonagall? I thought not. So what are you doing? Daydreaming? About me? That's real cute and all but it's more fun to do this if you reply. Hmm... Do you like muggle music? I heard a muggle song once. It was actually quite good. The name was Savior, which reminded me of you.

It kills me not to know this but I've all but just forgotten
What the color of her eyes were and her scars or how she got them
As the telling signs of age rain down a single tear is dropping
through the valleys of an aging face that this world has forgotten
There is no reconciliation that will put me in my place
And there is no time like the present to drink these draining seconds
But seldom do these words ring true when I'm constantly failing you
Like walls that we just can't break through until we disappear
So tell me now if this ain't love then how do we get out?
'Cause I don't know
That's when she said I don't hate you boy
I just want to save you while there's still something left to save
That's when I told her I love you girl
But I'm not the answer for the questions that you still have

Harry stared at the quill in disbelief, then grabbed ahold of it to stop it writing. It was weird. The handwriting wasn't his own, and the message was ... well there was a familiar ring to it. Not so much the words as the style of speaking. The air of confidence anyone saying that in real life would have to have. And the assumption that Harry was daydreaming about him (or her)... it was almost like Draco had said it. He looked around, and saw Draco, sat four rows to the left and two rows back. Draco's wand was laid on his desk and was angled to point directly at Harry's quill. He caught Harry's gaze and smiled knowingly. Harry turned back around, released his quill, and took out his own wand. He laid it on his desk and angled it to point at Draco's. Then he made Draco's quill write the words
When did you hear that?
He turned around and saw Draco read the message and grin. Then Harry's quill started to write.

I was out in the Muggle portion of London. Wandered into a music shop and it was playing. Asked an employee what the band was, and purchased their album.

Harry contemplated this. He imagined Draco as a punk, his hair streaked with red and blue, his nose pierced and his jeans slashed at the knees, banging his head to some heavy metal beat on a Muggle radio station. He imagined Punk Draco crowd surfing at Leeds Festival and he then he imagined himself as a punk. He wondered if he could have a Mohawk and still have his scar covered. He wondered about getting tattoos but then realised tattoos would be like having more scars. Then his thoughts drifted, and somehow Punk Draco started sucking off Punk Harry. He enjoyed that mental image for a while buy it started to seem wrong to be thinking of such things when he was supposed to be listening to a lecture, so he went back to Punk Draco throwing himself into a mosh pit. He grinned at the thought, then made Draco's quill do a little sketch of what he was thinking. He heard a tiny snort of laughter, and he smiled inwardly.

Was that really necessary? Harry glanced at this then looked around to see Draco smiling almost affectionately.

Don't question my awesomeness.

I question whatever I want to question. Like I question why you leave you hair like that even though it always, and I mean always, falls in front of your eyes when you're trying to work.

I've never been able to keep it tidy. It's just an explosion of hair. I'd cut it shorter but once my aunt cut it, and it grew back in a matter of hours.

That's really advanced magic. And you managed to stumble upon it by accident. Only you Harry. Only you.

I'm going to take that as a compliment.

Fair enough, Harry. Wait. Is the Weasel reading this? Harry looked around and sure enough, Ron was reading the messages with a look of confusion plastered across his face.
"Dude what's going on? Is someone writing to you with your own quill?" He asked. Harry looked at him pointedly then nodded his head towards McGonagall, as a way of saying "be quiet she'll hear you". Harry then turned his attention back to his parchment, and spent the rest of the lesson sending messages to Draco.

The Great Hall, 1:00pm, 17th October

"Harry?" Hermione asked as Harry happily munched on noodles.
"Yeah?"
"Has something happened?"
"What do you mean?"
"You went from going on about Draco all day everyday to never mentioning him. Ever." Hermione pointed out.
"Guess what?"
"What?" Hermione asked. Harry looked around, as if to check for people listening in, then leaned forwards. Hermione mimicked his actions.
"Draco and I are dating." Harry told her in a hushed voice, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face. Ginny joined them and leaned in as well.
"What are we all talking about?" She whispered.
"Harry's dating Draco." Hermione grinned, sitting up properly and selecting a tuna sandwich. Ginny's eyes widened and there was a spark behind them. It was something Harry had seen in Fred's and George's eyes whenever they were plotting something. It worried him slightly.
"What are you thinking?" He asked nervously. Ginny just smiled.