Draco blinked. Then shook his head and blinked again. The vision of Goyle with a black and orange striped face didn't change.

"Good lord! Goyle? What in the world is that?"

Goyle looked up and smiled, giving Draco his first clear look at his face. The entire thing had been painted so he resembled a cat of some sort – complete with whiskers painted on. "I'm a tiger."

"You're a tiger."

"Yeah. They have orange and black ones in India. I liked the picture so I choose the tiger."

Draco was starting to wonder if maybe he's missed the plot somewhere. "Goyle, why are you a tiger?"

"Everyone else was getting one, so I got one too. Besides, Harry said-"

"Potter! Of course. Where there's madness, he's sure to be involved. Why am I not surprised?"

Goyle just shrugged before bending over his work again.

Draco huffed impatiently. "Well? Don't just stop there. Out with it! What has that mad man done this time?"

"He just thought it'd be nice if we could do some face painting, you know?"

Draco just raised one brow and Goyle shrugged again.

"Dray!"

Draco turned to look at the body that had just flopped on the couch next to him, and it took him a minute to realize it was Blaise. His entire face was painted in light and shade to give the illusion of being longer than it was and with much sharper bones. "And what in Merlin's name are you supposed to be?"

"A high elf!" Blaise grinned and pointed to his ears which, Draco realized, were much pointer than they were normally.

"And what exactly is a damned high elf?"

Blaise shrugged. "No clue. It's a muggle thing apparently. Some folklore, myth type deal where this is what high elves are meant to look like." He gestured in the direction of his face. "Harry insisted that there be as many muggle options as wizarding ones."

Potter. Again. Draco gritted his teeth.

"It's going really well actually. Didn't think those Fifth Years Harry found to do the painting had it in them frankly. Speaking of. How come you don't have your face painted? I thought you might've been one of the very first victims."

"That would require that Potter actually tell me about his mad schemes to corrupt the school."

"Harry's in 'puppy-mode' again."

Hermione laughed out loud. "Well, good. Beats the moping around he's been doing for the past few weeks."

Dear blondie, Saw you in Transfiguration today. Mmmmm. Yummy. -H.

Tap, tap, tap. Tap. Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

Draco groaned into his pillow. He had just gotten comfortable. "The hell..?"

Tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap.

Blaise finally growled and pushed out of his covers to throw their bedroom door open. "The fuck..? Draco! Do something about your boyfriend! Fuck's sake, Potter. Do you even own a watch?!"

Draco abruptly rolled to see Potter standing in the open doorway, shrugging sheepishly as he watched Blaise stomp back to his bed before turning to meet Draco's eyes. There was a hopeful, pleading look in the green eyes that was somehow cheeky and afraid of rejection at the same time. The hesitation in Potter's eyes was what finally had Draco swearing even as he reached for a robe and hunted out his shoes.

Well, it wasn't as if he was likely to get more than a few hours of sleep in any case. Walking around the deserted corridors in companionable quiet, bumping shoulders occasionally, was far preferable to tossing and turning for a few hours before giving up and going for a walk on his own.

Dear blondie, HOGSMEADE! I insist. Say yes. Say yes. Say yes. Yeeeeeesssssssss. YES! -H.

Harry starred at the glowing gray eyes that were soft as they stared back, the sun picking out gleaming strands of hair. He could feel the smile on his lips accompanying the steady heartbeat that was a counter-point to his own as he pressed Draco into a tree. He adored days like today. He lived for them. He was warm despite the freezing cold wind, and they were alone to stare into each other's eyes as long as they pleased.

He hadn't put a name to the warmth in his chest that erupted outwards whenever Draco was around, but it was there, on the edges of his consciousness.

He leaned forward, unable to help himself, brushing his lips against Draco's, slowing, softly mapping their familiar shape, taking his time as his hands came up to cradle a face that was becoming increasingly precious to him.

He would wait. He could wait. He had Draco, but Draco wasn't ready to hear everything Harry was feeling yet. So he would wait.

Hogsmeade. Hogsmeade. Hogsmeade. Please, blondie?

Draco shifted out of the way as more students came to hang out the window he had been standing at, hooting and calling out to the Conga line dancers as they sang off key and put on a show for anyone who was watching. He caught the look on Granger's face – amused and irked and exasperated all at the same time – and raised his eyebrows at her before he thought better of it.

She huffed and crossed her arms. "I asked him. He wouldn't say a word."

She went back to watching the proceeding out the window and Draco found himself in the unusual position of sympathizing with Granger of all people. Apparently, Potter had called a meeting for the entire male population of the Third Year. A rather hush, hush affair that was taking place in the freezing cold to guarantee there would be no eavesdropping. And would be culminating in a line of Third Year boys being led by him in an absurd shimmying dance around the front courtyard in the dead of winter.

Not that Draco had asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to face the same stone wall Granger had – albeit gently. But a wall nonetheless. It felt like more of the same secret madness as the face painting with the Fifth Years had been. He'd practically been the last person to find out.

Draco watched as Potter worked with a small frown, consulting his mess of papers, his eyes going back and forth as he doubled checked whatever he was writing about. He finally decided to ask – if tentatively.

"What? Oh, yesterday. I'm helping the Third Year boys organize a flower drive where every girl in every grade will get a rose on Valentine's Day from a secret admirer. But don't tell anyone, yeah? It'll ruin the surprise."

Harry went back to his mess of papers while Draco sat and thought about how little success Granger had had after trying all day. All he had needed to do was ask and Potter had spilled his plans with impunity. But then again, he was almost getting used to having Potter incessantly repeat, "All you have to do is ask, Dray." He'd overheard Pansy that one time and adopted the phrase as his own. Of course, Pansy had been being her sarcastic best, whereas Potter came with a brand of sincerity that scared Draco.

He was afraid to ask for anything, especially when he knew he would most likely be given it without hesitation. Having that kind of power over Harry of all people made him nervous. He watched the furrow in his brow grow more pronounced as he murmured to himself, clearly trying to match things in the text that were proving stubborn. Almost unconsciously, Draco reached out and smoothed the frown away with his fingers and their eyes caught when Harry looked up.

He gave Draco his sweetest smile yet, capturing the hand of a very startled Draco, who hadn't fully registered that he was going to do that, let alone comprehend how he ended up in the position of having his knuckles kissed with that much tenderness.

Hello blondie. How was your day? Mine was fucking fantastic! ;)

Just thought I'd drop you a note to say hey-o.

Hey-o!

-H.

Draco laughed aloud and then stopped abruptly, staring at Pansy with startled eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had heard the sound of his own laughter. He looked around at the crowd of children running around, hyper with the quantities of sugar they had consumed in such a short amount of time. Then he looked at Potter playing an utterly inane game of Capture the Snitch with the younger children where he was the snitch. He watched Harry twist and turn and evade the grubby grabby hands - all while laughing and smiling in sheer joy.

The candy drive for the local orphanage for war-torn families was a success for all events and purposes. Draco still couldn't believe he was here. He still couldn't believe the other Slytherins were here. But Harry had been ruthless in his insistence, cajoling and bribing and even resorting to arm twisting when necessary in order to get as many people as possible involved. He had been adamant that the Slytherins would have adequate representation from all years, because, as he put it, "it was horrifyingly ridiculous that one-fourth of the school be left out of a good cause just because some idiots had a problem with the past." A rather delicate way of putting the hatred that ex-Death Eaters and those from Death Eater families still faced wherever they went. But it had been nothing short of amazing seeing Harry manipulate people and events and administrators and politicians alike until things were arranged to his liking. It had Draco thinking about what Pansy had said, about Potter knowing how to wield the power he possessed. More and more, Draco was starting to realize that Potter liked keeping to the background – unless he was crossed or thought there was an injustice happening somewhere. Then Merlin himself wouldn't have been able to get Potter to back down once he started. Draco didn't examine the curious feeling of pride watching all of Potter's shenanigans had given him. That belonged to more of the things that he was studiously choosing not to think about these days.

Draco turned as the laughter turned to squealing, watching as Potter went down in an impressive huddle, dominated by tiny hands and feet. His cheeks were aching from smiling, an unusual sensation to say the least.