Harry was twirling a quill through his fingers, thinking over his last outing with Draco yesterday. Now that he had had time to think over what had been said and everything, he could begin to see threads connecting what he'd been told to previous occurrences.

After his initial rejection, the only way Draco could think of staying close to Harry, of making sure he would be in his head was to become his school rival. Harry could also see where this might have backfired and factored into Draco's self-harming habit over the years. The brunette closed his eyes, leaning back in the squishy common room chair. All this analyzing was hurting his head, of course the fact that he had banged his head against a doorframe repeatedly upon arriving back to the Gryffindor Tower didn't help.

Harry's reaction to the news of Draco being attracted to him had been less then intelligent. After the exchange had been, well, exchanged they silently drank their Butterbeer and then Harry walked Draco back to his common room, saying no more then a polite goodnight. The Gryffindor had cursed himself for being an idiot and hit his head against the frame of the Fat Lady's portrait until she swung open just to get him to stop. He now sported a spectacular bruise around his scar.

'What should I have said?' He thought, continuing to twirl the quill as he ignored the students that quietly chatted or busily did homework around him. Harry wasn't straight, years in the Quidditch locker room had taught him that, but he wasn't gay either. Green eyes cracked open, he wasn't oppose to the idea of Draco and himself like that… He just didn't have the same feelings, yet.

Harry's eyes widened, staring at the high ceilings. Yet? When did…? He shook his head lightly, preparing himself to stand. He needed to find Hermione. She'd know how to word what he was feeling so he could convey it to Draco without looking like an ass.

Draco lay in bed, staring up at the dark green canopy. He'd been like this since returning from his conversation with Harry Potter. It hadn't gone bad, but it wasn't as if the Gryffindor had leapt into his arms either. Finally, the blonde moved. His muscles protested as he rubbed his eyes, sighing tiredly. A knock came from his bedpost, making him turn slowly toward the noise. Blaise stood there, leaning on the bed frame. He looked over Draco's mused hair and wrinkled pajama shirt, noticing that the top three buttons were undone, exposing a healthy amount of pale flesh.

"What is it, Blaise?" The question turned the dark Slytherin's eyes back to his friend's face.

"There's someone here to see you."

"I am not in the mood." Draco huffed, turning back towards the ceiling, long fingers absently playing with his hair.

"You are for this one, trust me. He's already here, so just sit up. I'll be in the common room if you need me." With that, Blaise pushed off the bed and walked toward the door. Draco heard him turn to the visitor and whisper, "Just go in, he's on a low right now but he'll perk up." The blonde groaned and shut his eyes. He didn't want to deal with the world today. Blaise's footsteps faded away and the visitor's soft footsteps approached Draco. They stopped at the edge of his bed and the blonde sighed, opening his eyes to address who ever it was.

He looked over to find Harry standing at his bedside, hands in his pockets and looking unsure. He was going to KILL Blaise. A faint blush on his face, Draco sat up, trying to look more dignified than he felt.

"Harry."

"Hi Draco, I wanted to talk to you." The Gryffindor sat gingerly on the edge of Draco's bed, moving his hands to his knees. "I know my reaction yesterday was less then ideal."

Draco stared at him, hands pressing nervously into his mattress and pushing away the nagging reality that Harry Potter was sitting on his bed. He slowly shrugged, "It doesn't matter. If you are not comfortable or-"

"No, no Draco. I…" Harry shook his head, trying to remember what Hermione had said about his 'hypothetical' question. "I'm not… Um, crap… I'm flattered." That sounded like a good place to start. Draco cocked an eyebrow.

"Flattered?" It was not a nice tone. Harry put his hands up, not wanting to insult the other teen.

"I, well… I was overwhelmed when you told me, Draco. I've never had a guy seriously have interest in me, that I know of…" Harry looked away, trying to get his thoughts together while Draco processed this. The brunette took a deep breath before turning back to the speechless blonde with a shy smile.

"I understand that, yesterday took a lot from you. I don't feel the same now, but I'm willing to see if feeling do de-develop." Harry gripped his knee, embrassed by his stutter. He looked down, away from Draco's piercing gaze.

"I'd understand if you didn't want to… If it'd be too… erm, difficult for you to continue our-" The words Hermione had given him failed when Draco's hand rested on his arm. Harry turned toward the blonde, and for the first time, was stricken with how fragile he was.

Draco was leaning towards him, his paler than blonde hair falling soft and somewhat stringy about his sharp features. His eyes were a clear grey that betrayed his wary hope that what Harry was saying was true. His hand slid carefully down the Gryffindor's arm, gently pulling it onto the bed. Harry watched, curiously, as the blonde just as gently slid his fingers across his palm and nervously interlocked their fingers.