"I'm free of prejudice Potter, I hate everyone equally," Malfoy drawled after he'd been scolded for another comment about the Gryffindors.

"You don't hate me," Harry grinned triumphantly and Malfoy glared at the floor, ignoring Hermione's amused chuckle.

"Well that's a different matter, I have to save your life on a daily basis because you're too stupid to look after yourself; I can't hate you when I'm saving our ass all the time can I?" he countered and Ron shrugged in agreement, lifting a stage block for Hermione. Malfoy urged sarcastically when she gave Ron a sweet look and pressed a rewarding kiss to her boyfriend's cheek. He did have to give the redhead credit though, he was built like a brick shit house and had crazy levels of stamina considering the amount of food the guy packed away.

"G'morning ladies and gays," a cruel voice full of malice and hate came from behind them and Harry immediately went red, lifting his own stage block for something to do with his hands. Malfoy, on the other hand, was having none of it.

"Bite me, hobbit," he snapped viciously, earning a look of approval from Hermione who was now standing next to him, arms crossed over her chest.

"The fuck is a hobbit?"

"Just go away Theo, I thought I made it clear that you were banned from the festival when you made Peeves drop a crate of condoms on Harry's head," Hermione said, taking Ron's hand to hold him back a little, knowing things would get ugly if both Malfoy and Ron were letting their protective instincts get the better of them.

"You can't prove that I made that little shit do anything to your freak of nature over here," Theo said, anger in his purple eyes.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Malfoy spat, getting in the boy's face.

"Draco, just leave him; he's not worth it-"

"Yeah, you listen to Faggot face-"

But Malfoy's fist cut off the end of the sentence, colliding with their approacher's jaw with a loud crack, the force of the anger throwing Theo back and he stumbled onto the floor. Malfoy moved to lay his foot into Theo's ribs but Harry pulled him back abruptly, grabbing his torso and restraining him; once again having to remember that now was not a good time to be thinking about Malfoy's body heat or the toned chest he had hold of.

"He's not worth it," Harry said firmly and a little breathlessly, working very hard not to let Malfoy's anger brew too much inside him.

"He's a homophobic bastard," Malfoy yelled, spitting on the grass next to where Theo was still trying to figure out what had happened so quickly.

"I know, but this isn't going to solve anything," he continued to soothe, eventually having to push a struggling Malfoy against the metal cage sheltering the main stage.

"It'll make me feel better," he huffed, still looking venomously at Theo who was scrambling to his feet looking outraged and shocked.

"Yes but it won't make me feel better; I can handle thugs like him Draco, I'm not a silly little school girl," Harry insisted, giving up trying to stop the man and tapping his face sharply to get his proper attention. Draco's cool blue eyes flickered from Theo's angry face, and met Harry's green ones. The pupils were dilated, the lids wide, face contorted a little.

"Leave him, don't give him a bigger excuse to make our life a misery," Harry said in a softer tone, putting a hand on Malfoy's shoulder and squeezing, knowing that body contact calmed them both down when things were difficult "the fourth stage area still needs sorting, I'll run damage control later," Harry said, his voice a little broken with exhaustion; they hadn't been sleeping very well lately and he was almost always anxious about who would be taunting him next. It was just a select group of Slytherins in sixth year, nothing they couldn't handle. But Harry was still very insecure about the whole situation and the bullies were making his life a living hell.

"This is my mess, why are you cleaning it up Potter?" he snapped but Harry could see the underlining gratitude in his face and voice, and he smiled a little sadly.

"Because it's my fault that he said anything in the first place-"

"Oh no you fucking don't," Malfoy stopped him "you do not get to blame yourself for this Potter. How many times do I have to pummel it into your thick skull? Your sexuality is not a problem, it's just who you are," he said through gritted teeth.

"That might be the case, but I'm still the reason we get all this trouble and the least I can do is convince McGonagall that you were provoked," he insisted as Dean arrived at the scene by himself, patiently taking a hold of a still angry Ron so that Hermione could march Theo up to the castle using her head girl authorities "come on, you know Hermione's got a lot on her plate; it'll mean a lot if we sort out stage four for her," he said calmly, letting go of Malfoy and missing the warmth of his magic buzzing against his skin even through the clothes.

"Why should I do anything for her?" he growled moodily and although the man would probably spend the afternoon sulking and shouting at the workers helping them with the festival, Draco was stable and trying to save his dignity.

"Because, although you won't admit it, you respect her and you tolerate her enough to know that she's overworking herself again, now move! And we're going to stay out of trouble," Harry said with a disapproving look.

"Yes mum," Draco grumbled as he allowed Harry to roughly spin him by the collar so he was facing their destination. They walked away down the small hill to the lake where they were having a huge stage built temporarily in the middle of the water; they would take it down when the festival was over.

"Ron, cut it out," Harry said irritably, nodding at Dean who was trying to drag Ron with them.

"Go help Malfoy, he's still going to be worked up and he'll end up yelling at one of the workers," he said sternly.

"Go on, I want to talk to Harry a second," Dean nudged and Ron rolled his eyes, slumping off to the small distance away where Malfoy was boarding one of the boats. They both sat in silence glaring at each other, and waiting for their friends to follow them "you are holding up okay, aren't you Potter?" he asked, concerned as he leant against a small piece of wood sticking out of the mini bridge leading out to where the rowing boats were docked. Dean watched a little apprehensively as Harry shifted his feet.

"I'm doing okay I suppose, this was never going to be easy," he shrugged, running his hand through his hair and putting the other one in his jean pocket.

"And you're eating properly, sleeping properly; there's no tension with Malfoy or-"

"Of course there is, he's a straight guy, bonded to his gay enemy and he hasn't had sex in months; he's not going to be jumping up and down on the spot giggling is he? He's going to be uncomfortable in some way or another," Harry said, becoming a little rattled just thinking about it.

"Well how is he being about all this?" Dean asked, grabbing Harry's wrists and stopping him from pacing, standing up to full height and looking at him properly.

"He – he's been great. Amazing actually, he – he's just always there, just sort of accepted it," Harry breathed tiredly, getting confused with his thoughts again, looking out to where Malfoy was sat, the boat moving a little as Ron sulked.

"Okay, hold up; when did you fall for him?" Dean demanded and Harry's eyebrows hit the top of his head, his face stretching in outrage.

"I haven't fallen for him! I only came out last month for god sake!" he exclaimed and Dean nodded, unfazed.

"Yes, but something tells me it happened before that. Maybe you just haven't realised it yet," he said wisely, watching Harry think for a good few seconds. He shook his head in disbelief.

"No, no way. I have not fallen for him! He's Malfoy, he's moody and insulting and damaged"

"But?" Dean encouraged, taking their hands and pressing them to Harry's chest, just over his heart.

Draco watched the encounter from where he was sat, taken off guard when something sparked in his chest as Dean took Harry's hands so gently as thought it was nothing. Maybe homosexuals interacted with each other like this. But Draco did not like the feeling he could very much identify as he looked at Harry's confused face, yet the comfort in which he allowed Dean body contact.

The feeling in his chest was jealousy. Oh jesus fucking christ, really? Was the universe still trying to fuck him in the ass, after all this fucking time?

"But he-"

"He's adorable, unintentionally funny, intelligent, confident, more sensitive than you realised, and he's very understanding as well. I don't like the guy and I never will – he's a dick and he has no semblance of tact. But you need to figure out how you feel and talk to him about it or it's going to get – wait, Potter, what's that look for?" Dean stopped mid pep talk, seeing Harry's eyes leave his, embarrassment blushing his cheeks.

"The – the experts told us we'd have to – eventually the bond would want us to-"

"Have sex? Bloody hell, you lucky sod," Dean clapped him on the back with a grin and Harry tutted, slapping him lightly across the bicep.

Ron frowned in the boat, his eyes wondering up to Malfoy's face, following the young man's intense glare over to Harry and Dean who were talking playfully at the end of the dock. What was going on with Malfoy then?

"I'm not going to be having sex with Draco thank you very much, I haven't even had a boyfriend yet," Harry said, blushing even more and Dean laughed, hugging Harry tightly before pulling away, holding his neck in his hands in a brotherly manner. Draco wanted to punch Dean in the face; it made him very, very uncomfortable.

"Well you know what to do then don't you?" Dean said mischievously and Harry frowned, suspicious.

"What?"

"You get yourself a boyfriend"


"What the hell is the matter with you? You've been in a foul mood all day," Harry gave up, sitting on the coffee table in front of Draco who had slumped back on the sofa looking dark and brooding.

"I'm not in a foul mood; I'm allowed to be fed up," Malfoy snapped, his blue eyes narrowing but not settling on Harry like they normally did. In fact, the young blonde was refusing to make eye contact with Harry at all.

"Right, so it's my fault then," Harry concluded, sitting more comfortably with his legs a little more open as he bowed his head in his hands, scraping his fingers through his messy, jet black hair.

"I never said that!" Draco yelled in frustration, standing up fast and kicking the back of the sofa.

"Well what is it then? I know that was difficult, but you've had worse punishments than detention Draco-"

"It's not about Theo; I don't give a shit about the detention or McGonagall!" he exclaimed in exasperation, his posture angry and acute but almost defeated.

"So it has to be about me-"

"You are not my only freaking problem today Potter; I've – I've just had enough," he sighed, his voice breaking off cracked and tired.

"Enough of what Draco? Because the entirety of your irrational temper tantrums haven't just been directed at me and Theo today; Hermione's still fragile and Ron is very pissed off with you. You know Pansy's refusing to talk to you for the rest of the week now? I hope you're happy with yourself-"

"My mother is in hospital," he interrupted, his voice harsh and strained, eyes wide and worried; body language stiff and out of touch. Harry didn't know what to say; he wanted to comfort Draco, to be the rock the man had been for him in the last couple of weeks. But he couldn't find the words he wanted to say.

"W-why?" Harry asked quietly, shocked.

"She was found in the Manor earlier this morning; Snape found her when he was visiting and she wasn't breathing," Draco continued, equally quiet. He sounded so small, so beaten and tired. It was as though the lack of strength driving his mental state was finally starting to drain on him, and it was making him angrier and even more intense and hard mouthed than usual.

Harry slowly stood up, a frown creasing his brow.

"Is she-"

"She's alive; but they had to pump her stomach three times to get the alcohol out of her system. She basically fried her liver, they're repairing it in surgery tomorrow but she's in a chemically induced coma for the moment to keep her stable," he coughed and it sounded dry, like the kind of cough that your chest demanded, cutting through your throat like razor blades.

Harry took a couple of steps forward but paused when Draco stepped back, shaking his head.

"No," he said "I don't want your comfort Potter, I don't need your pity or freaking wisdom or a big gay hug," he breathed through gritted teeth. The comment stung, but it wasn't meant to truly hurt him and it was soothed then pained by the tear that dripped down Malfoy's cheek from where his head was hung forward on his neck. Harry swallowed tightly and grabbed Malfoy's face, holding it in place.

"You think I'm any different to you? I'm still a man Malfoy, I still act like a male human being. But you're my friend, dare I say it, and if I want to try and make you feel better; then that's exactly what I'll do," Harry snapped in a hard tone, brushing the tears from Malfoys squarer cheekbones with his thumbs and pushing the sticky hair from his sweaty forehead.

Harry roughly embraced Draco, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and hugging him tight, feeling a moment of hesitation before Draco's own arms wound even tighter around Harry's waist. Harry could feel wet tears against the shoulder of his jumper and Malfoy's hair tickled his cheek, but this - this was fucking exquisite.

He'd often thought about what Malfoy's arms would be like; toned and strong around the top of his rib cage, warmth enveloping his body, washing out the cold from being outside all day. Forms were pressed tightly and comfortably together, heat rushing over him as he felt something in his chest contract and then release. Harry couldn't bring himself to pull away and stop this stupid thing his heart was making up before it all got too messy; Draco just needed him too much right now. He could feel how much the man needed him, and no one else knew him well enough to fully understand that.

But the young Malfoy heir was straight, Harry knew this and although the man would flirt with everything that moved, he generally preferred women.

"I thought I said no big gay hugs," Draco mumbled and Harry chuckled, finally pulling away and holding him at arm's length, squeezing his shoulders gently again. He smiled wryly; ruffling his hair. He grinned when Draco slapped him away, ducking the hand and yanking him into a firm headlock.

"Now this - this is normal," Draco remarked with a small smirk, sniffing slightly and dragging a cursing Harry up the small staircase to their bedroom.


"Alright, give it a break; you've got fifteen minutes" Shane called, making a timeout sign with his hands and Draco pulled up from the crouch he was in on the ground. He was breathing heavy, his heart pounding a little; but after the war and all the therapy, his stamina was in good condition and he was rather smug with how he could walk away from the room quite happily when the rest of his dance mates had collapsed on the ground.

He unscrewed the top on his water bottle and threw it back over his head. It didn't make much of a difference, apart from cooling him down; he was still sweating buckets and his muscles were starting to ache. He was about to go and check on the Weasley girl in studio three in the little room that had been set up for them on the fifth floor, but something caught his ear. A soft strumming of a guitar floating down the corridor dividing the two sets of professional sound proofed practicing areas. Then a male voice started humming gently along to the tune; it was impressive actually, save for a few notes that were a little sharp.

He grabbed a towel, hanging it over the back of his neck and walking towards the source of the music, leaning against the doorway of the room it was coming through and watching intently, barely hiding his surprise when he found out who it was.

"There are, no words; to paint a picture of you girl. Your eyes, those curves, it's like you're from some other world, you walk my way, oh god it's so frustrating. So why do I disappear when you come near? It makes me feel so small. Why do I blow my lines, almost every time, like I got no chance at all? If I could be a Superman, I'd fly you to the stars and back again. Cause every time you touch my hand, you feel my powers running through your veins; if I could only write this song and tell you, that I'm not that strong. Cause I'm no Superman; I hope you like me as I am," Harry broke off from the chorus, a small smile on his thinner lips, head hung slightly as his fingers worked the guitar strings in perfect tuning, like it was the easiest thing in the world. His back was leant forward a little, the instrument moulding into his arched torso a little, and his foot tapped rhythmically to the soothing beat, his eyes closed; completely absorbed in the music he was creating.

Draco had never seen anyone perform like that; as though it was the only thing in the world. He was in an almost trance, and his voice was passionate, relaxed and soft despite still having an appealing rough edge to it. It could go from deep, to high in a split second and a passer-by would still be fully aware that it was a man singing. Draco could feel the contentment buzzing stronger than ever off Harry through the link and if he was being honest, he could shamelessly admit that it was one of the most attractive things he'd ever witnessed.

"It aint no lie, I have to tell you how I feel. But each time, that I try, it gets a little more for real. You walk my way, oh god it's so frustrating. So why do I disappear when you come near? It makes me feel so small. If I could read your mind, girl would I find, any trace of me at all? If I could be a Superman, I'd fly you to the stars and back again. 'Cause every time you touch my hand, you feel my powers running through your veins. But I can only write this song, and tell you that I'm not that strong. 'Cause I'm no Superman; I hope you like me as I am - ladadadi. Yeah woahhhh, woahhh, yeah, babadadadiii- ,woahhh, woahh"

He began strumming heavier, yet gentler on the guitar, his voice getting a little stronger as it got to the most powerful part of the song. Granger had been right, at least one of the songs she'd picked out for Harry was absolutely perfect for him.

"If I could be a superman, I'd fly you to the stars and back again. 'Cause every time you touch my hand, you feel my powers running through your I can only write this song, and tell you that I'm not that strong. 'Cause I'm no supermaaaan, ohhh, I hope you like me as I am. Ladum, deladum, delai..."

He finished with a few small strums, rolling his tongue and slipping out the end of the song slowly, with concentration before the music stopped, his hand dropped from the metal strings and rested over it on his knee. He took a few deep breaths and looked up in surprise, feeling Draco's presence suddenly now nothing was taking over his senses and his eyes widened in surprise.

"I didn't know you could sing," Malfoy smirked, hiding the way he'd really felt about what he'd just witnessed. He put his hands in the pockets of the fabric grey jogging bottoms he was wearing. He smirked wider when he watched Harry's green eyes do a quick sweep of his body; Malfoy was fully aware that his white vest was sticking to his chest and his skin was more flushed than usual. There was something about having your gay best friend checking you out, that was ridiculously empowering and strange.

But not unwelcome.

"Well, that's because no one but Hermione has ever heard me sing; it's why I want to get this just right for the festival. I've still got another song to sing as well, and now Ginny wants me to feature in one of her numbers too," Harry sighed, running his free hand through his hair and shifting a little on the stool he was sitting on.

"Perfection isn't attractive Potter; you want to give them a performance they're going to remember, something they can relate to. Not something they're going to wow over for a week and then disregard as old news," Malfoy stated, tilting his head to the side in thought as he watched Harry shrug his shoulders tiredly.

"But I don't like being talked about," Harry whined and Malfoy rolled his eyes, standing to full height and walking forward, carefully taking the guitar from Harry's hands and holding it in his arms. Draco played an absent minded tune as he wondered around the room a little.

"What's the other song you're singing?" Draco asked, stopping his strumming and placing the instrument against a set of drums, leaning against a soundproof glass window blocking what Ginny was singing in the other room.

"Hermione wants it to be a surprise so I'm not allowed to tell anyone," Harry coughed a little, clearing his throat from all the time he'd spent singing.

"Come and finish practice with Shane; and then we can get an early night so you don't look like so much of a zombie tomorrow," Draco suggested, with a genuine mini smile, shoving Harry off the stool playfully and laughing when Potter's strong body smashed into him, tackling him in a headlock.

Not so tired after all then.


"Do it boy or there'll be hell to pay," a harsh voice called after him down the rank cellar stairs as he limped down them, taking out his wand and igniting it, ignoring the pounding in his brain that was making him dizzy and forcing his conscience to the back of his mind; it was just another mudblood, nothing to sweat over. So why was his throat closing over? Why was his body heating up, why were his clothes suddenly feeling too tight for him. Why did he feel so trapped in his own home? But he still muttered the lock charm for the blood-stained gate and pointed his wand in front of him, clearing his voice.

"Back against the wall scum, I'll make it quick if you make this easy," he said in an emotionless, cold voice; the only type of tone his vocal cords were allowing. He was in deatheater mode now, which meant he wouldn't be able to stop himself, and he most certainly wouldn't be able to make it quick for the poor girl.

He heard uneven scuffling and he shoved the cell open, stepping over the threshold and laying eyes on the pathetic figure lying hopelessly against the back wall. Her hair was black; long, blood stained and greasy, sticking to her face where she was covered in barely healed cuts and bruises. She had two black eyes and her bottom lip had a pretty deep slit in it; but it looked like it had long since stopped bleeding. Her skin was pale and covered in a shiny sheen of salty sweat, illuminated sickeningly by the light of his wand. Her ribs were poking at her skin, her stomach made visible by her ripped clothes that were barely even covering her dirty bra anymore.

The only thing that really showed anything of who the girl really was, was her eyes. Deep, unique purple with flecks of yellow and green; glistening with heavy tears that she wasn't allowing to fall.

Her chest was heaving, her fever high and her arms shaking despite how hot her temperature was. He devised that she was dying already anyway; a few more hours before her body would shut down. An agonisingly slow time to die in, he thought; especially when her organs started failing one by one, hour by hour before there really was nothing left.

And this is what he was part of. Whether he had done this to her directly or not, he was a piece in the game that had made her this shivering piece of skin and bone.

He tried to capture his anger that he'd felt before at her blood status, tried desperately to tell himself that she was a mudblood, and this was what the bitch deserved. But deep down, he knew she had done nothing wrong. Not a thing. The poor girl had probably never hurt anyone in her whole life.

He wanted to make his fist smash her jaw, to force his foot into her fragile ribs; to cause her more pain. But suddenly, her eyes flickered weakly up to his, and fixed on them. The single thing she was very clearly trying to communicate, shattered everything he'd been planning to do to her; anything that would have made his master and parents proud.

Before he knew it, he had lowered his wand, gripping it so tightly that he could feel the skin breaking against the wood, and was sitting down next to her. Shakily, pathetically, his arms pulled her into him, cradling her broken body; she could only really be seventeen, give or take a few years... in his case he would have to take. He held her against him so tightly it almost hurt and she was digging her fingernails into his skin, the fabric of his blazer bunching in her bony hands.

"Thank you," she whispered once, but he couldn't listen to anymore, he couldn't hold the life in his arms anymore; it was all too much, too real. And he pressed the tip of his wand to her temple, his chin resting on the top of her scalp as he swallowed tightly.

"I forgive you Draco," she breathed weakly, no sound left in her words; simply her very last palpitation before he said as clearly as he could.

"Avada Kedavra"

His eyes snapped open, a whip of Oxygen ripping through his lungs painfully, sharply, opening his airways. His body had lurched sideways and before he could stop it or swallow it, his stomach was slamming outwards against his ribs, pushing acid and bile up through his throat and out his mouth. It hurt, ached; and the taste was making him throw up more; he couldn't breathe and tears were falling rapidly down his face, more from being sick than anything.

And suddenly Draco felt a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles up and down his spine, alternating, the palms soft and cooling against his boiling hot skin.

"Shhh," a voice was breathing gently, deeply. Then a spell was uttered and the sick vanished from the floor, strong, bare arms helping to pull his body back into a sitting position, the hand continuing to massage the muscles around his spine while he tried to regain composure. It was impossible. And just when Draco began to wake up properly, the sobs came thundering through his subconscious, taking over his body, retching at his voice box, stinging at his tear ducts.

But then the arms were wrapping around him, a hand was cradling his head into a cool, muscled chest and the skin-to-skin contact was reaching into his diaphragm, stroking his throbbing heart with tender whispers and calming words.

It had been a very long time since Draco had been rocked back and forth, comforted on such an unbelievably intimate level. He couldn't think of a logical explanation as to why he wasn't pushing Potter away from him, yelling at him, taking all his anger out on the nearest person. But he was so very, very tired and Potter was so strong and warm and addictive; and Draco's eyes were drooping before he'd even stopped sobbing and he felt himself being moved back against the headboard.

It was so blurry and confusing and painful, and he didn't want to be left alone, he didn't want to feel empty anymore. He might have reached out an arm, he could even have shouted at Potter not to leave him; but he was too exhausted to care as blackness overtook his numb senses before he could figure anything out.


Harry woke to a huge wave of nausea washing over him, amalgamated with a split seconds flash of blinding green light that sent a sharp pain snapping through his skull. He coughed from the force of it, his eyes watering as he felt despair, shock and the urge to throw up vibrating through his brain. He gathered himself and blinked away his dreams, registering the sound of gagging and gasping. His eyes flickered sideways, adjusting to the low lighting of the room, immediately jumping out of bed and climbing on Draco's.

He didn't know what to do, his mind was still a little numb. He could only settle his hands on Draco's back, rubbing smooth circles on his spine. He tried to remember what Hermione had done when he had been in this position, and seemed to grasp a memory of whispered words in his ear. So when Malfoy had finished being sick, and he started crying, the only thing Harry could think to do was hug him.

He could feel all of Malfoy's pain and how it was making the poor man wretch and sob into his shoulder; it was like...

There wasn't even a word to describe it. Like a connection he'd never felt before was pulling in his chest, making him hold Malfoy tighter while he cried. The intimacy was absolutely terrifying, and so odd that it was with another man. It was right though; yes, Harry was definitely gay. But the heat of Malfoy's body and the pain running through his blood and muscles was unbelievable.

And this was Harry's chance to be there for him, his chance to pay him back after the man had put up with so much trouble, and so much drama; Harry could return the favour and just for tonight, just one time, hold him as he tried to regain composure. The stickiness of tears dripping from Malfoy's face and onto his bare chest was drying, and he could hear - no, feel Malfoy's breathing slowing slightly.

He just looked so drained and exhausted, Harry wanted to just sit there the whole night and memorise the tingling of skin against skin, the warmth. But this wasn't about Harry, and he knew that Draco needed him to be selfless right now.

So Harry easily shifted Draco's body so the man was laying down again.

Just as he was about to leave the bed however, a hand wrapped around his wrist in a death grip and Harry looked down at Draco's blue eyes under hooded, pale eyelids.

"Don't – don't fucking leave," a very, very weak, barely there voice escaped Malfoy and Harry had no idea what to do "I'm so fucking fed up of being alone"


"You coming to the match today?" Ron asked Harry who was staring into space.

"Potter, snap out of it," Malfoy hissed in his ear and Harry jumped, blinking to get rid of the sticky blurriness hurting his eyes.

"What? Sorry," Harry asked Ron and he rolled his pupils to the top of his head.

"I said, are you coming to the match today? You never answered me when I asked you the other day," Ron repeated and Harry drew in a breath of acknowledgment, nodding.

"Yeah, Shane says he doesn't need us in the dance studio today, he's just got the Slytherins that aren't getting it right yet. Besides, I'd go anyway; you know I would," he shrugged. Ron looked happier about the concept of playing now his best friend would be watching, but solemn as well.

"It's a bugger we haven't got you playing for us though Harry, we've got a fair chance of winning but having you would guarantee it," Ginny sighed, scratching her head in thought as she took a sip of her pumpkin juice.

"You should count yourself lucky that Potter's not playing, it just means that I can't play as well, and you know I would have whooped your arses," Malfoy smirked, winking at Pansy who smiled at him from over the other side of the hall. Harry was taken off guard by how well Malfoy was taking the whole nightmare incident. They'd simply woken up and gone about their business as usual, not a single mention of what a state Draco had been in the previous night.

And now the man was joking around. Malfoy was smirking, grinning, taking the piss out of Ron, and, much to Harry's chagrin, flirting with Pansy. It was weird, Harry had expected him to flip and become snappy, withdrawn and cruel like Malfoy always was when he was embarrassed by something, or had accidently chipped his pride.

"Yeah right Malfoy, you're a good player, you're ace in the air but your aim is off by a mile and I've never seen you duck for the Snitch without tailing Harry," Ron remarked, getting a cold glare from Draco and Harry discreetly nudged his leg to stop him from retorting too sharply.

"I don't write the tactics for the team Weasley, although if this stupid bond thing hadn't happened, I'd be captain of the Slytherins," he snapped and Ron nodded in respectful agreement, which was a completely new thing, but not unwelcome.

"You'd be better as captain I think, it'd give you a chance to show them that you're not a follower anymore," Harry said with a small smile and Malfoy looked at him full on for a few seconds, as though transfixed by something, before he looked away again, ignoring the seductive look Parkinson was shooting him from the Slytherin table.

"Do you know what would be uber cute? If one of you only went to the match 'because he likes Quidditch, I just like scarfes' aawww, yeah!" Lavender squealed and Harry frowned at her like she was some kind of alien. Draco rolled his eyes and Hermione choked on her drink.

"Lavender, this isn't an episode of Glee; It's not Kurt and Blaine, Harry and Draco were forced to live together, they aren't a fluffy highschool couple," Hermione corrected Lavender with a reproachful look.

"I have no fucking idea what she's on about," Harry frowned, bemused, and the corners of Draco's mouth twitched a little.

"For a gay man who grew up with Muggles, you don't know much about understanding girls and their world do you?" Draco remarked and Harry looked playfully offended.

"For a straight man who grew up hating muggles, you know a little too much about their world, don't you?" Harry retorted and Hermione coughed to hold back a laugh as Draco's mouth twitched again, and Harry saw a small impressed look flitter through Draco's gaze for a second before he shrugged.

"There isn't much in the way of decent to watch on TV when you're locked on a high security, Muggle psychiatric ward," he spoke, his voice a little quieter and Harry shook his head in amused disapproval.

"You shouldn't joke about that," Harry sighed, a small quirk in the corner of the left side of his lips and Draco took another sip of his drink unenthusiastically, stealing a piece of Harry's toast.

"If I didn't joke about it, I'd just end up yelling about it, and I know which one you prefer," he replied, his tone softer and less defensive than Harry had been accepting and he nodded in understanding.

"But we're not mentioning your past today, right?"

"No, we're not. We're going to watch our friends play Quidditch against each other, argue about it afterwards at whichever celebration party we go to later, and then we're going to stumble back to our room afterwards," Draco said firmly and slightly distant. And that was all the indication Harry needed to know that Draco was in need of a normal day, far away from the horror he'd dreamed off last night. What made Harry want to be sick the most though, was that he had a feeling the dream last night had only been the half of it.


"Shhhhhhh!" Harry giggled, pulling Draco into the room of requirement, closing the door loudly shut behind them, muttering a wonky locking spell so Filch wouldn't be able to get in. They'd been avoiding him, running away from him for nearly an hour now because neither of them could remember properly where their room was.

"You're the one that's being loud Potter!" Draco said, laughter in his eyes flashing brilliantly. Then a silence set over them and all they could do was look at each other, trying to remember coherent thought when they were in such close proximity under such a high influence of alcohol.

"Malfoy-"

"Don't Potter - just, don't," he stopped him, drawing in a sharp breath and looking at the ground, swaying a little with his hands in his jean pockets.

"We're going to have to talk about it at some point or another Draco, this isn't going to just go away," Harry said gently, putting his own hands in his pockets and leaning back against the door to try and give them both a little more personal space.

"No, we're getting through today without talking about it, remember?" he said, his voice cracked, quiet and vulnerable.

"But this isn't right Draco; you're going about this the wrong way. You need to face up to these nightmares, especially since they're getting such bad reactions from you. This isn't something you can run away from-"

"I know Potter! Don't you think I know that?" he snapped his head up suddenly, shouting. Harry looked reproachful, glaring at him.

"Well why are you being such a coward then?" Harry huffed, his brow furrowed.

"Because that's all I'm good at, right? Running away, being a coward?" Draco yelled again, turning and slamming his fist into the wall. Harry coughed in pain, clutching his own bleeding knuckles, trying to breathe and wait for the stinging to die down a little. Then Draco's warm, pale hands were cradling Harry's crushed knuckles, and Harry could see blood on Draco's hand to where he'd punched the wall.

"I'm sorry," he breathed harshly, raspy "fuck, I'm sorry okay" a salty tear dripped once from Draco's bent head and landed on Harry's skin and an electrical current buzzed from tanned finger, to pale finger "I'm so fucking sorry Potter," he breathed again and Harry took in a deep, soothing breath, looking up and pulling his hands away from Draco's.

Harry cupped either side of Draco's neck firmly, shaking his head, one of his thumbs smudging a tear that was fuelled half by the alcohol, half by true sadness and regret, from Draco's distinct cheek bone.

"We all killed someone, every single one of us, in some way or another. You have got to stop punishing yourself. It's something you've made me realise lately Draco, I can't hurt myself to make up for other people I hurt, it's not right and you can't do it either. These nightmares, they're destroying you, they have a power over you and you can't - you can't live your life like that," Harry said struggling a little to explain what he wanted Draco to understand.

"Potter, stoppit-"

"I won't let you push people away anymore. Dammit Draco, you've taught me so much, I want you to teach yourself now. I want you to stop hurting yourself like this, it hurts me too, remember?" Harry exclaimed, letting go of Draco's face and looking at him straight in the eyes hard, breathing slightly heavy "look, at the end of the day I just want you to see the good person you've become... if slightly twatish and wanky sometime-"

And Harry was cut off by a sudden mouth on his as his body was pushed back a little by the force of the quickness of it. The split second it took to register what had happened wasn't enough to make Harry push Draco away and stop him doing something he knew the man would regret.

But oh Merlin, he hadn't even been thinking about this.

It started off tense, shocked as Draco sucked on his bottom lip, and they both drew in harsh, shaky breaths, somehow ten times louder in the silence of the room. Then, the initial effect of the contact wore off and with the clashing of tongues and teeth and the whimper of passion that escaped his vocal cords, Draco's hands bunched in the back of his hair, nails scraping a sensitive spot behind his ear. It was so different to have a muscled chest pressed against him, rather than breasts and curves, but it was so much more than he'd ever anticipated and it was fucking exquisite, just like Draco. Draco. The name brought him back to reality and he managed to find the self-control behind the urge to carry on kissing and tasting the entirety of Draco's mouth, so that he could place his hands on Malfoy's shoulders and push him back.

"That's not fair," Harry panted, shaking his head, anger slowly seeping into his gut "that was not fair Malfoy, you know - you know how hard this whole thing has been for me," Harry's voice was coming back to him and reality was fading harshly back into his mind, fighting against the firewhiskey clouded part of his subconscious, bringing the world back into full, bastardly focus. Malfoy's expression was just as shocked as his own, it was like he'd been possessed and he was just realising what he'd done.

"Fuck," Malfoy swore, resisting the urge to punch the wall again.

"You can say that again. What did you have to do that for? Was this some kind of practical joke? Because it's not funny Malfoy, this isn't – it's too much; you've gone too far," Harry said seriously, betrayal threatening to start the tears up.

"I didn't know what I was doing! You think I would fuck our friendship up like this for a cruel joke? You were just so – and I - holy shit Potter, I'm sorry," Malfoy said, words tumbling out of his mouth jumbled and confused.

"You're straight Malfoy-"

"That's not the issue here – my sexuality has never been a concern. This is – this – fuck, this is about you. I – christ I'm fucked up, I have – I just have no idea what I'm doing," Draco replied, a complete mess and Harry breathed out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between is forefinger and thumb.

"You spent a lot of time helping me figure out who I am Malfoy, but who are you? I know you, but you need to know you as well," Harry said, his voice stressed, but steadier as he tried to push the arousal to the back of his mind; there were more important things that required his attention, away from his raging adolescent hormones.

"Don't start lecturing me Potter," Malfoy snapped, breathing harshly while he tried to gather his bearings.

"We can't fuck this up – it's not as if we can just walk away from each other either. You need to think about things properly, kissing me isn't going to help you in any way," Harry said sternly, taking his wand out of his pocket and trying to stop his hand shaking.

"You can hex me if you want but-"

Draco stopped talking when Harry simply muttered the counter charm to his locking spell and opened the door a crack, looking around and gesturing for Malfoy to follow him when he stepped out of the room.

"It's this way I think," Harry whispered off-handily and they sprinted the rest of the way to their room, a tense silence hanging between them that had not been there since the start of this big mess.


"And down, then up, spin, drop and roll. And around, drop, up, lift the girls, throw.

Okay and into the street dance; one, two three and four, drop, sideways, jump, flip back. And you guys run in, jump up, lift the girls, throw them up, catch, good! You're getting there and down, up, in, back, reverse, reverse, up, right, left, up, drop and step ball change, drop. Tango! Good, sexy remember, good Harry and Hermione, you're doing great and twirl out into a new partner! Remember you're ridiculously attracted to your dance partners, you fit together in contours. This isn't about perfection, it's about feeling, and feeling the music bringing you closer. Unity people, fucking unity; in, out, drop, dip them, pull back up... dammit people, closeness! I don't' care about house colours, you're having dance sex with these people, move!

That's more like it! Ron, Parvati; bring me some curving! Damn boy, you've got some hips! And that's it Draco, you need to roll Hermione like she's an extra body part you're trying to relax. You two are on fire!" Shane yelled out encouragement and criticism as the entire group of eighth years moved perfectly, smoothly transitioning as each style of music switched.

The heat and sweat was heavy in the air but they all had a common cause, something to work towards. It wasn't ideal but if they were going to prevent themselves looking like idiots in front of hundreds of people, they would have to work together. The sound of thick breathing and small gasps as they moved closely together, slipping between moves fast and slow, tight and loose, robotic and contemporary.

The music stopped with a small, revolutionary halt and the lights shut out enough for them to perfect their dramatic finish before spotlights were brought back up on them all, the women lied out on the floor, chest pointed up to the ceiling, back arched, head craning upwards, eyes narrowed seductively. The men stood above them, one foot on either side of their hips, towering over, heads down, creating dark shadows.

"Beautiful!" Shane yelled, voice echoing around the dance studio, his face gleeful and his posture triumphant as he signalled for them all to relax out of their positions. He watched on with a fond smile as every single man in the hall reached down a little, holding a hand out to a woman so they could haul them all to their feet. It was working, the unity thing Hermione had originally approached him about was actually genuinely working.

Now the Slytherins were smiling exhaustedly, but proudly at the muggleborns in the room, the Hufflepuffs were being included in the small celebrations and well done's being exchanged all around and the Ravenclaws weren't criticizing anyone one bit. The Gryffindors were mixing everywhere, even nodding respectfully at some of the Slytherins, and things were good.

"I'm proud of you! I don't want to leave you guys now, but I'll hang around for the festival in a couple of weeks; I know you're going to be breath-taking," Shane spoke loudly as everyone turned to listen to him, arms around waists and shoulders, holding hands and nudging each other playfully "but things have got to be a wrap; my work here is done. You're all exceptionally talented people. Every one of you have grown astronomically in these last few months; the classes, the music, the maintenance and back stage work, it's brought you all together. You proved the world wrong about yourselves when they said you couldn't and for that, I am very, very lucky to have taught you all," he said, laughing when they all cooed and smiled, a few crying as all fifty people in the year group ran at him, hugging him.

"But stop it, you'll make me cry," Shane said, hugging everyone individually as people picked up their bags, filing out of the studio for the last time.


Draco wasn't going to lie to himself, Potter looked bloody attractive after a dance session when his face was glistening slightly with sweat and his white t-shirt was sticking to his muscled body, jet black hair messier than ever, bright green eyes sparkling with adrenaline in the minutes before they would settle down and the tiredness of such intense dance routines kicked in. It confused Draco, made his head hurt and the all too familiar spot at the bottom of his spine jolt a little too pleasurably for his liking.

It had been a very long time since both men had any kind of sexual release anyway, and their hormones were still running heightened, even if they had quietened down since their teenage years.

Sex was never that much of a big thing for him. He enjoyed it, it felt good, and it had never really mattered to him whether he was fucking a girl or a guy – both were equally attractive to him on the most part, and they both did the job nicely. But Potter was different, someone who he had known for years. A fixture in his life that, good or bad, had always been significant and had, once again, good or bad, had been a bane on his existence. He loved Potter as a friend, he was past denying that; the man was someone he cared about and would protect and look out for till his dying day.

But why had Draco kissed him? All that time of trying to bring Potter out of his shell, to get him to open up and push past the anger issues, to help him feel a sense of peace after such a stormy childhood. Had all that time been just because Draco had subconsciously been falling for the man? Bullshit, Draco didn't fall for anyone. Astoria had been assigned as his arranged wife in the days when it seemed he would live for his family name for the entirety of his life; but now he was free. Now his father was dead, no one was whispering conflicting instructions in his ear and forcing him in dangerous directions he didn't want to go in, now he could find out his identity for himself.

He didn't need to sleep around anymore, he didn't need to prove himself to anyone, and Potter would accept him for whoever he was, Harry was not a judgmental person. And for a second, Draco thought over and realised how much he'd changed from the pale, pointy faced little aristocratic bully who had held a childish grudge of rejection for seven long years. He still hated himself for all the things he'd done, he would never forgive himself for that and the lives he'd taken - but he really had changed for, dare he say it, the better.

"It's not my fault I have no idea what I'm doing when I leave school," Potter pouted at Granger. It had been very awkward since the kiss after the Quidditch match, and Potter was right, they couldn't really just up and leave each other – that was, of course, if either of them wanted to avoid a haemorrhage. Although Draco wondered if being in this situation any longer would cause his overactive brain to spontaneously combust.

That kiss hand lingered in his mind however. It would force him to wake up at night sweating and having to deal with a certain problem that would cause him to need a very cold shower almost every morning. He was sure that Potter was well aware of the 'problems' the incident was causing him, but it didn't matter how steamy or inappropriate Draco's dreams got, Harry would stay very still in his own bed, facing determinedly away from Draco as though nothing was happening.

"It's not my fault either Potter, we're in a shitty situation and you're being an asshole," Malfoy snapped, not really understanding why Potter was suddenly winding him up so much.

"Fuck you," he glared back and Hermione frowned, watching the interaction with sad eyes.

"Oh for god's sake you two, grow up! We've got our whole lives ahead of us, and you're going to ruin it because you have some kind of unresolved sexual tension? Uggh, argue it out but don't come grumbling to me until you've worked out how to be responsible adults," she said irritably, pushing passed Draco and slamming the door of the studio they were supposed to be practicing in behind her.

"We don't have unresolved sexual tension," Draco grumbled, turning away from Harry and shuffling his feet, pacing around lazily, hands in the pockets of his grey fabric jogging bottoms over his shoulder gym bag.

"Whatever, I'm leaving"

"Don't be fucking stupid Potter, you can't!"

"I can do whatever I want to!"

"THEN WE'RE ALL THE WAY BACK TO SQUARE ONE AREN'T WE?"

"NO, YOU ARE!"

Harry yelled lividly, growling and shoving his foot into the nearest mirror, making a crack shiver through his reflection. That was better, the mirror image of himself in front of him looked more truthful; cracked, broken and chaotic, confused with the faint perspective image of Draco a few metres behind him, looking a little taken aback.

"You've brought me nothing but confusion! Dammit, you don't half make me want to scream Draco Malfoy! It took us so long to get here, to be friends, to have this - this thing. And now I can't think straight, I can't concentrate on anything because you and your stupid fucking face pops up in my head and you're always there, I can't push you out, I can't block you out and the worst thing in the world is, I don't want to. I don't want to lose you but I know I'm going to if we keep this up," Harry blurted, his face sad, red and tired.

Something told Draco in that moment that Harry had been very much awake in the night during his vivid dreams.

"I don't understand what you want me to do Potter-"

"I want you to figure out why you kissed me"