"Draco, darling, come sit." Pansy patted the space next to her on the black leather chase of the Slytherin common room. It was late, very late, and it looked as if the party was about to begin. Draco sat obediently, not in the mood to deal with Pansy's...Pansyness, and watched as Blaise transfigured three books into shot glasses. He then retrieved the full bottle of fire whiskey from his bag, trickling a bit into each glass with a smug expression.

"Ready for some fun, Draco?" His eyes bore into the blonde, teasingly questioning his alcohol tolerance. Pansy giggled excitedly.

"Oh, come on, you two, lets get to it!" And she downed her glass and tapped it on the table. "Refill me, hun."

Blaise lifted his eyebrows impressively. "Sure thing." After pouring Pansy a second helping, she raised her glass.

"A toast," she proposed, "to Draco. For handling business as usual." She winked, and soon all three were tipping shots. The cinnamon flavor of the whiskey burned Draco's throat, but he found himself craving more. The bitter accent of the alcohol seemed to numb the area where he'd been choking back tears after... he didn't want to think about it. So, he downed another shot. And another. Until all three of them were positively pissed.

Pansy was giggling, bubbly as ever, resting her head on Draco's shoulder. Blaise was making sparks emerge from the tip of his wand, lining them out to spell random curse words out of smoke. And Draco had finally almost forgotten everything. Almost.

"This one's for you, Draco." Blaise flicked his wand elegantly, sparks emerging until the word "light weight" was suspended mid air.

"Oh, please, Zabini. Have you seen your wand writing? I'm not the only one who's sloshed."

"Touché." Blaise snickered, Pansy clutched her sides in silent fits of laughter, and Draco smiled. To be honest, this was kind of nice. It'd been a while since the three of them had taken the time to sod off on a Friday night, for no reason other than to let loose.

"Who's up for shag, marry, kill?" Pansy suggested, sitting upright and taking it upon herself to refill their glasses.

"Alright," Blaise agreed, lifting his glass. "Bottoms up."

They downed another shot, and for Draco, the room was starting to spin slightly. The barrier he'd crafted so carefully began to unravel, stuck somewhere between good judgement and alcohol. He smiled, pushing all negativity away. If he was going to be sloshed, he might as well have fun.

"Pansy," Draco began, "Zabini. Myself. Nott."

"Oh, please give me something more challenging!" She laughed loosely, her own room swirling. "Make sweet love to Blaise, kill Nott, marry you."

Blaise's lips pulled into a cunning smirk, nodding his head as if he'd been victorious. "Anytime, love." And Draco laughed heartily for the first time in a while. If he had to live without... then there might be lots of alcohol in his future.

"Draco." It was Blaise's turn now. "Chang. Granger. And the Weasley girl."

"I'm going to need another shot for this." Draco began pouring another round, contemplating his retort.

Another shot complete, and the bottle was getting low. "Shag Chang. Kill the Weaslette. Marry Granger."

Pansy made a face. "Honestly, Draco? The Mudblood?"

"Well, I didn't have much of a choice, now did I? I'd kill myself before touching the ginger. And at least Granger has a brain."

Blaise lifted his eyebrows. "He has a point, I suppose. I just didn't figure she was your style."

"She's not." Draco interjected, as honest as he could possibly be. It seemed that he'd changed more in the past few months than even he had realized. In the past, he would've probably married Cho just because of her blood status. He'd never seen granger for anything other than her muggle born heritage, but it seemed as of lately he'd viewed her instead as Harry's friend, a smart and loyal addition to his partner.

"Blaise," Pansy turned her attention. "Luny lovegood, Greengrass, the Patil twins."

"Impossibly easy. Kill Luny Luna, marry Greengrass, shag the Patil twins simultaneously."

Draco spat the drink he'd just poured himself, and the three of them were hysterical. Making a replacement drink, they killed the fire whiskey as Draco took his turn.

"Blaise," He was going to get him back for Granger, for sure. "Goyle. Nott. Abbott."

"Switching up the sexes, are we? Something you want to confess, Malfoy?"

Blaise and his Slytherin arse.

"Just answer the question, Zabini. Unless you have something YOU'd like to share?"

Pansy smirked at the playful confrontation.

"Ah, Yes. Fine. Okay, um... kill Goyle, for sure. Shag Nott. Marry the Hufflepuff, as much as it pains me."

Pansy cackled. "Nott, huh? Hannah too much of a prude to fuck?"

Blaise raised his eyebrows. "Come to think of it, the innocent ones do always seem to be the craziest in bed."

Laughing, Pansy pushed Blaise playfully. He did have a way with women and had no problem flaunting it.

"And I'm sure Nott wouldn't object to my talents. He might turn gay for me, if he isn't already." He flashed his teeth. Damn Zabini, always had a way of turning things in his favor. A true Slytherin at heart.

"Okay, my turn." Pansy turned to Draco. "Since we're making things interesting..." she leaned in closer, placing both hands on Draco's right thigh for support.

"Hermione Granger. Ron Weasley. Harry Potter."

Draco tried not to make a face, attempted his finest not to let on the absolute shock that occurred from hearing his name. The pang of remembrance hit his gut like the train wreck he was bound to become. He slowly exhaled, realizing that Pansy was expecting him to answer. She grinned slyly. "What's wrong, Draco? Got you stumped?"

"They're all just so revolting. Can't I just kill them?"

"Oh, come on, love! That's no fun!" She pouted, eyes wide and lip pushed out ridiculously far. Draco rolled his eyes, hiding behind pretentiousness.

"Fine. Kill Weasley. Shag Granger. Marry Potter."

Pansy and Blaise both straightened up immediately, staring at him questioningly.

Extremely drunk, Draco's eyes widened as he realized what in the fuck he'd just said.

"Fuck Potter! I meant fuck Potter!"

Blaise crossed one leg over the other. "I mean, still, Malfoy. You'd kill Weasley over that prat?"

"I positively hate Ron Weasley. Even the likes of Potter are better than that red headed fool." There was a moment of awkward silence, broken by Pansy's shrugging.

"Whatever floats your boat, hun." Blaise snorted, filing the information for later. This would be absolutely priceless when Malfoy sobered up. But, for now, there were more important matters at hand.

"You know what sounds grand right now?" Blaise asked them, a plot forming steadily. "Something to eat."

It was half past 11, and the Gryffindor common room had finally emptied out. All that remained was Harry and the five others, and he was itching to know what was supposed to make him feel that much better.

"Alright, Seamus, let's go ahead and do this." Spoke Ron, giving the common room a once over.

Excitedly, Seamus took Dean and headed up to the dormitory, disappearing for a few moments before returning with a large paper bag in each of their arms. Puzzled, Harry gave the others a confused look as Dean and Seamus plopped onto the couch next to him. They placed the bags on the table between the two couches, clinking and clanking as their contents settled. Across from them sat Ron, Hermione, and Neville, the latter of which was giddy with excitement. Hermione was calm, present in the moment but still wearing a hint of worry.

"Alright, mate, open up!" Ron exclaimed, proud of himself for planning this moment. Harry reached into the first bag, pulling out several packs of butter beer.

"We're gonna have fun tonight, friend!" Exclaimed Seamus, gesturing for Harry to continue. In the second bag was a bottle of fire whiskey and another pack of butterbeer.

"You know what guys? I needed this." Confessed Harry, shaking his head with a smile. "How in the hell did you manage to get all of this?"

"Seamus. That's how," answered Neville with a grin.

"Eh, don't give me all the credit. I couldn't have gotten it smuggled in here without my boy Dean." He patted him on the shoulder.

"Well, lets get to it now, shall we?" Ron reached forward, retrieving a butter beer and popping the cap off on the edge of the table. He handed it to Hermione, who slipped it slowly, before grabbing another for himself.

"You guys enjoy starting slow. I'm heading straight for the firewhiskey. Who's with me?" Seamus reached for the bottle, popping the lid and taking a swing straight. He shook his head dramatically, exclaiming, "Woo! Burns but burns so smoothly." The crew chuckled at Seamus, who raised the bottle as an offering.

"I'll take some," piped up Neville, who reached across the table to take a shot.

"Damn, Neville, never thought I'd see the day," commented Dean, who popped open his own butterbeer. Harry grabbed one, too, and Ron raised his bottle.

"A toast to Harry," he proposed, "For kicking arse, no matter what." Harry grinned, trying to be present in this wonderful moment. He was surrounded by loyal friends, and before him was a table full of alcohol. If he was going to bury his pain, this was one hell of a way to do it.

A few hours later found Hermione snuggled up against Ron, laughing hysterically at some ridiculous joke he'd been on about. Dean and Seamus were playing drunk wizard's chess (similar to sober wizard's chess, but much more difficult when the pieces begin to sway). Neville and Harry were conversing about what in the bloody hell they were going to do once Voldemort was defeated.

"We'll win, I just know it," claimed Neville. "And when we do, I want to study herbology. I can make something of myself, ya'know?"

Harry sniffed, taking a swig. "That sounds great, Neville. You really should follow through with that."

"What about you, Harry? What do you want to do when this is all over?"

Harry froze as the face he'd done so well of forgetting flashed through his mind. He took another drink, swallowing the memory. "I'm not sure, yet. We've got time though, hm?"

Before Neville could answer, Seamus was hooting his victory over Dean. "Checkmate, bitches!"

Dean shrugged, and the two ended their game to join the group. "I've got another game we can play," Dean offered, and all eyes were upon him.

"It's a muggle game. We'll need some playing cards." He transfigured a copy of the Daily Prophet lying near the fireplace.

"Now, it's not too complicated. We place the cards face down. Each card requires you to complete a different task..."

Only Hermione was familiar with the game and its instructions, but had never played herself. In any case, it was one heck of a drinking game. In just another hour, they had gone from sipping butter beer to chasing firewhiskey. Harry was absolutely beside himself, unable to sit up straight properly and giggling while leaning sideways onto Seamus. His actions were hardly judged, as Dean and Seamus were too busy cackling at Neville, whose words were too slurred to understand. Hermione had somehow fallen asleep on Ron's shoulder and was snoring lightly. Ron wasn't much better, pronouncing legibly but speaking 100 miles a minute about quidditch. Here, at midnight, maybe one am, Harry had found some sort of peace. He wasn't fixed, no, but he was temporarily bandaged. And everything was hilarious. And he had his friends. And, well, blissfully... he passed out.

Time appeared to be frozen once more. They were surrounded by Voldemort's right hand men, wands aimed and ready to kill. Lucius Malfoy was before them, statuesque in his violence. Harry knew this scene much too well, all of its intricacies woven repeatedly into his brain. This time, however, something was missing. At first, he couldn't put his finger on it. He was used to watching his friends die before him, the dream ending in blood almost infinitely. But in recent weeks, the body of the dream had changed somewhat. Harry appeared to be waiting for someone; his gut knew to expect them. But who? Had he forgotten completely?

And that was when he laid eyes on the most angelic creature stepping from the shadows, a slim young man with pale blonde hair and eyes that were like the silver of a double edged sword. He gasped, a flood of memories sweeping Harry from his oblivion. This was who he'd been anticipating all along; this was who was going to save him.

"Harry," he began, stepping forward as he had in previous visions. "There's something you should know."

He came even closer, intertwining his fingers with both sets of Harry's. His breath was cool and sweet and caused Harry to swoon in his presence. "I've been wanting to tell you," he confessed, leaning toward Harry's face.

He wanted to ask what this beautiful person could possibly want to confide in him, but his breath was caught in his throat. That's when Draco Malfoy pressed his lips tenderly to Harry Potter's, conveying the message clearly without speaking even one word. They separated, and Draco gave him a shy smile.

"Harry," he finished his earlier thought, "I'm in love with you."

Harry's stomach lurched, a thousand butterflies all battling to escape. Heaven was upon them, and all pain was forgotten here. His memory lapsed so much that he couldn't recall quite where they were or why they were there, even though everything remained at a standstill. He wanted to respond, to confess his feelings to the angel before him. He opened his mouth to speak, but was abruptly cut off by a deep voice that had been previously immobile.

"Well, well, if it isn't the traitor." Lucius Malfoy was the only being that had miraculously become unfrozen and was slowly making his way toward the couple.

Harry clung to Draco protectively, as if by holding him he could save him. Draco kept one arm draped around Harry's waist, and the other held his wand, aimed and ready.

"I'm going kill you, Draco," promised Mr. Malfoy, a satisfactory glint in his eye. Harry felt sick to his stomach at the sadistic twist to the father-son relationship before him. He continued: "and not for this abomination that is occurring before my eyes." He gestured toward Potter, who still gripped Draco possessively.

"Love the Chosen One if you please, but the Dark Lord will still reign. And you will suffer for your betrayal." His eyes were wild, ravenous, as if he'd been waiting an eternity for this moment.

"Father, kill me if you wish. But I won't let you hurt him." Draco brought his arm to the front of Harry, placing his hand upon his abdomen as if to keep him back.

"You could have had it all, Draco. The Malfoy riches. The Dark Lord's power. It was all waiting to be handed to you. And yet, you throw it all away for the trash that you so willingly protect."

Draco's expression was narrowed, but he didn't say a word.

"You don't have to worry. I won't touch your precious Harry Potter. I will be leaving that to our Lord. It's you that I have a vendetta for."

Draco's expression softened. "Father, please, don't do this."

Lucius scoffed. "Please. You are no son of mine." His brow furrowed, and within a fraction of a second his wand had lifted even higher.

Time seemed to freeze secondarily for Harry. Draco's brow was creased with worry; a mixture of fear and pain stained his expression. Lucius Malfoy's mouth was open, screaming the words that would befall his son mortally. His eyes were black; there was no love or remorse. Only darkness.

Harry took a breath, and it was the only sound he could hear other than his heart thudding wildly in his chest. He pushed forward suddenly, realizing the curse that was upon them and lunging toward a nonexistent reprieve. Harry, quick as he was... was too late.

"Avada kedavra!" Were the words spat from his mouth; from father to son, beginning to end.

For Harry, the spell almost hovered mid air before crashing into its victim, begging him to fix what had become. All too soon, it found its target, colliding full force into the boy standing innocently next to Harry. The boy Harry loved, but hadn't told.

Draco fell lifeless before him, crashing to the floor as the curse radiated through his chest. And, just like that, the deed had been done. Harry collapsed atop of him; shock turning to sobs as Draco's motionless face rested beneath him.

Time remained still, his friends motionless as Harry grieved over the body that was much too pale, even for Draco. Harry pressed his fingers to the boy's head, rubbing his thumbs across thin cheeks in an attempt to wake him.

"Draco," he cried, "Why couldn't I save you? I never would've left you alone." He slapped both palms to his cheeks, but the boy didn't stir. He truly was... gone.

Something inside of Harry cracked. Regret panged him. He could've prepared for this, planned for it. He could've stopped Lucius Malfoy. He could've... he could've... but he hadn't. And Draco lay dead before him. And there was absolutely nothing he could do.

Through tears, he looked up. Lucius was gone, and so were the others. He was alone, draped over Draco's body. Everything was silent. Everything except...

Harry awoke to the sound of his own hyperventilating. Eyelids sprung open, sweat dripped from his brow. He sat up immediately, trying to gather his surroundings. Why in the hell was he on the couch in the common room? Where was everyone? And where was...Draco?

Remembrance hit Harry like a train. The world was still spinning slightly, alcohol holding its charm. All that remained of the fire was a few smoldering embers. Harry checked the clock; he must've been out for around an hour, maybe. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his sleeve, perspiration coating his shirt. In all of the cloudiness and confusion, a sudden, singular thought seemed to awaken Harry into clarity: Draco. Images of his nightmare played on the forefront of his mind: Lucius, cold and murderous; Draco, lifeless. And all because Harry hadn't been able to save him.

A deep pit formed in his stomach as he realized the mistake he had made. Even in his dream, Lucius hadn't killed Draco because of Harry. He'd killed him for his disloyalty. He wasn't protecting Draco by keeping apart from him; he was leaving him alone and unprotected. His heart hurt in the absence of the blonde, but it ached even more at the lifeless image in his head. Harry didn't just want Draco; he needed him. And it looked like merely surviving in the gray existence that had been the past 24 hours wasn't going to be enough anymore. Harry had been quick to do what he thought was the right thing, and now he had to fix what he'd hoped wasn't far too broken. He had to find him, immediately.

Maybe it was his Gryffindor rashness that fueled his next move; maybe it was the alcohol giving him an extra boost of confidence and poor judgment. Or maybe it was purely love that led him to run into the dormitory for the Marauder's Map.

The others all seemed to be in a drunken slumber. Ron snored obnoxiously from the bed next to Harry's. Seamus was muttering to himself in his sleep, something about his mother and an apple pie. Harry snuck past them all and retrieved the map from his trunk, casting a quick Lumos to detect the one he needed. He expected the name to appear motionless, somewhere near the dungeons where he was sure the Slytherins slept. But it wasn't there. It wasn't there at all.

"Okay, okay. So 2 out of 3 then?" Draco laughed, having just been defeated by Blaise and Pansy at a game similar to muggle rock, paper, scissors.

"Nope. You played, you lost, you get snacks." Blaise flashed that wide grin again, ushering Draco out of the common room.

"Alright, fine. You're both lucky that I happen to be famished myself." Draco turned to leave.

"Don't get caught by Filch, Darling," Pansy warned, taking a seat back onto the couch. "And do bring back something sweet?"

All three had the munchies, for sure, and if Draco had been sober at that hour he probably would've convinced them to go to sleep. Alas, he wasn't, and instead he was exiting the common room with the intent of sneaking across the castle to the kitchens. The house elves were notorious for slipping the students midnight snacks, and Draco fully intended on using that privilege.

He began the trek steadily, watching his feet consciously to keep balance. It turned out he was more intoxicated than he originally thought, and this most certainly was not a smart idea. Especially not with Filch and Mrs. Norris on the loose.

He hugged the wall, keeping a close eye for any movement and wand drawn for a quick disillusionment spell if needed. The dungeons were dark, especially at this hour, but he didn't risk casting a lumos. Instead, he moved cautiously, and before too long he had escalated to the castle at ground level. Upon leaving the dungeons, he peered out into the open corridor and looked both ways before deciding the coast was clear. It was still dark, but several dimly lit candles along the wall helped Draco's vision adjust accordingly. He ascended the hallway, stepping quickly so as not to be seen but keeping his footing in check. There were several alcoves along this section of the castle, which he kept nearby in case of Filch.

As he rounded the corner of the corridor to turn left, he hurriedly stashed himself into one. Although it appeared that nobody was ahead, he could've sworn he heard foot steps. Cautiously, he waited. He'd come this far; a few extra seconds wouldn't hurt if it kept him from detention.

The name Draco Malfoy appeared to be on the move in one of the main corridors of the castle. Harry blinked; what in the hell was he doing there at this hour? Then again, the map didn't lie.

Hastily, Harry muttered "Mischief managed" and folded it into his pocket. Without further ado, he climbed through the portrait hole. It would've been wise to grab the invisibility cloak, but Harry was beyond thought in his inebriation. All he could see in his mind's eye was Draco.

Draco had positioned himself against the indented wall of the alcove in such a way that if he leaned outward he could see the open hallway before him. Placing his fingers against the cool stone, he exposed his head slightly to view the area. There was no sign of Filch or his bloody cat, so he tip toed into the openness and made his way forward. The kitchens were a straight shot from here, and luckily there were plenty of empty classrooms and dead end hallways coming up on either side to take shelter in. He continued straight, confident that he was going to make it unscathed. Erring toward the right side of the corridor, he approached the first of these openings when his feet came to a dead stop. Foot steps.

This time, he knew for a fact that he had heard them. He may have been more than tipsy, but his senses were keen and alert as always. He drew his wand, ready to disillusion himself when he felt a tug on the back of his shirt collar. The being pulled him posteriorly, and Draco made more than a ruckus trying to break free. It wasn't until they were fully concealed, sheltered by the shadows of the added hallway, that his captor let go. Draco turned, ready to hex whoever the hell had just grabbed him when he noticed the most beautiful emerald eyes.

Harry wasn't the best at remaining silent in his current state. In fact, he wasn't fully aware of the clip-clop effect his sneakers had on the floor beneath him, obvious to any bystander. Luckily, Filch appeared to be somewhere on the third floor, out of hearing range for the moment. According to the map, Draco would be navigating one of the main corridors ahead of him soon. Harry slipped into an abandoned hallway nearby and waited.

He didn't mean to scare the boy, but with all judgment gone Harry figured the best way to get his attention was to get him alone quickly. When he appeared in the hallway, open and exposed, Harry could tell he suspected someone nearby. Before Draco could settle the score, Harry grasped him by the shirt and tugged him into the hallway. He hadn't looked too closely for any of the heads of houses, and he didn't want to risk either of them being seen. Especially without the (damnit he bloody forgot) invisibility cloak.

Draco looked as if he'd seen a ghost, pale and frightened at the sudden contact. He breathed heavily as he adjusted to the situation and realized who had brought him there. "Harry," he stated softly, an acknowledgement more than a question.

"Draco," he replied, keeping a safe distance. As much as he wanted to hold him, to wrap his arms around that slim waist and profusely apologize for the past 24 hours, he didn't. Harry knew he'd fucked up, and he wasn't sure exactly how Draco had handled it. Maybe the hexes weren't off of the table after all.

Draco had a dreamy look about him, as if he'd already passed out in a drunken stupor and was re-living a happier memory. He shook his head, reality setting in as he absorbed his surroundings and holy fuck it was 2 or 3 am and he was in an empty hallway with Harry Fucking Potter.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Questioned Draco, upset that they had somehow coincidentally snuck out simultaneously and not with each other.

Harry smirked. "Well, it seems I have run into Filch after all."

Draco grinned, definitely able to take the sarcasm he was so used to dishing. Harry smiled as well, looking to his feet to conceal the blush that had found his cheeks. He scratched the back of his own head, a nervous habit that hed picked up somewhere down the line.

When he raised his gaze, Draco was peering at him silently. His eyes were stone gray, unwavering as they held his own.

"I was trying to find you," admitted Harry, unable to hold back under the soft scrutiny of silver irises.

"You were?" The response was barely above a whisper. Draco looked back and forth, at Harry and then the ground, and then at his own hands, trying to piece together the present moment. A part of him wanted to cry, relieved that Harry had not forgotten his existence completely. The other aspect was wrenching, pulling at him from all angles, causing him to turn his body abruptly. His back was to Harry now, and he spent the next few moments choking back tears that had somehow surfaced above the perfectly crafted Malfoy facade. The truth was, he was afraid. He feared that Harry was here to reward him with more disappointment, that the face he wanted to desperately make his own was going to walk away again.

"Why?" He managed, unable to pivot back to Harry.

Harry sighed internally. He had obviously hurt Draco more than he'd ever intended to. In doing the "right thing," he'd completely barred any trust between the two of them. He had to make this right. Even if he still lacked the ability to completely think straight.

"Because I realized something, Draco. I- I got a bit inebriated... I'm still a bit inebriated, actually. But the point is, I've been thinking about everything in this whole forsaken world trying to distract myself from you. I thought that if I could forget about you, I could protect you. From your father. From Voldemort. But I was wrong. The truth is, Draco, I can't shake the feeling that without you I'm missing a piece of myself. It's as if we're meant to be together. I've never believed in anything like this, but now I'm convinced. Draco, I... I need you. Please. Forgive me."

Tears were flowing freely now. In Harry's presence, there was no Malfoy, no perfect mask. All that remained was Draco, slightly broken but pure. He turned to face his match, cautiously lifting his eyes from the ground to meet green.

"Honestly, Potter, you thought you could stay away from me for more than a day?"

Draco playfully simpered, tears interrupting any haughtiness in his voice.

Harry stepped forward, gaining confidence with Draco's response. "You missed me," was his reply. It was a statement, not a question, and Draco nodded: "More than you know."

"Oh, God, Draco," Harry braved the space between them and wrapped his arms around the edgy physique that was Draco Malfoy. Draco didnt move and allowed himself to succumb to the bliss enveloping every part of him. He melted in Harry's arms, quite literally, and found himself stumbling into the boy as he awkwardly lost balance.

Bracing Draco with a hand around each arm, Harry stabilized him with a smile. "You'd think you were drunk, too, you know."

Draco laughed. "Oh, just wait until I tell you that story."

"He's been a while, don't you think?" Pansy questioned worriedly to an apathetic Blaise.

"Maybe he got caught, Pans. He was pretty far gone when he left, you know."

"Don't say that, Blaise. I can't have him in detention for who knows how many months! He has... things to do."

"What, like sleeping with you?" Blaise scoffed, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of the girl.

"None of yours!" She snapped, and took toward the exit. "I'm going to check on him."

"Maybe you can sleep with him while you're both serving detention, then," Blaise called after her. "I'm going to bed."

And she left, stamping vigorously toward the kitchens.

"So you told them you wanted to marry me?" Harry was buckling from laughter, clutching his sides as Draco regarded the events of tonight.

"Yeah, it just sort of... slipped out. And the recovery was even worse. I said 'no! I meant I wanted to fuck him!'"

Harry swore he was going to cry. He wasn't sure the last time he'd enjoyed himself quite this much. There they were, standing in a vacant hallway at some god forsaken hour, making up.

"Awh, come on, Draco." Harry straightened up, wearing a humorous but smug expression. "Are you saying you wouldn't marry me if given the chance?"

Draco returned a smile, cheeks turning a bright pink. "Harry Potter, Are you saying you'd propose to me if given the chance?"

Realizing the seriousness of that thought, Harry stepped forward so that their faces were merely inches apart. The air seemed to thicken around them as both began to understand the unspoken significance of what had been said. The idea that their relationship could prosper amongst all of the hardship ahead was a dream that seemed unattainable on paper. It was silly, the two of them falling for each other in this way, when so much darkness threatened to consume the wizarding world.

Harry inhaled a sharp breath, preparing himself. "Draco, I know that I made one of the biggest mistakes in my life by trying to let this go. If you can give me a chance, I promise... I'll die before I leave."

Draco raised both hands, placing them symmetrically on either side of Harry's temporal bones. He stared deeply into infinite pools of green, the silence speaking each word for him. He peered down at Harry's lips, pausing briefly before closing the space between them.

Pansy steadily followed in Draco's foot steps toward the castle kitchens. She trekked the halls, keeping an eye out for any authority figure she might have to duck from. It was silent at this hour, eerie in the absence of other students. She wasn't used to sneaking around alone like this, and she hoped that she'd run into Draco soon. She rounded the corner of another corridor when the silence was interrupted by the small but abrupt noise of laughter. It was barely audible, but she was sure in her determination that it'd been real.

Cautiously, she followed the right hand side of the passage in the direction it came from. Luckily, whatever she'd heard hadn't sounded like punishment. Pansy continued in this fashion until she froze suddenly, straining her ears as the sound repeated itself. It was very close now, and she placed her back against the wall for fear of being seen. Looking ahead, Pansy deduced that whoever was out and about was in the corridor extending to the right. She inched forward, sliding with her back propped against the wall.

Approaching the edge of the open corridor, she paused and craned her neck sideways to view the source of such laughter. She did her absolute best to remain unseen and successfully noticed Draco's back facing her. Sighing with relief, she was just about to reveal herself and ask him what in the hell was taking so long when she noticed a pair of hands grasping each side of his waist. A gasp let loose from her throat, and immediately jealousy bubbled from within. Draco had left her company purposely to meet up with another girl? Jealousy quickly turned to rage as she studied the figures before her. Who was this mystery bitch?

Pansy's stomach dropped to her knees when she recognized the sounds of kissing. Even though they weren't officially courting, Pansy had always had somewhat of a claim on Draco. She knew that one day they would end up together, and she would be the Malfoy heiress and receive her happy ending. She'd predicted it so, after all. Which is why she was utterly devastated that Draco was in an abandoned corridor with some other woman. Swallowing emotion, she scrutinized the scene before her in an attempt to reveal the identity of his mistress. The hands had begun to travel downward, gripping Draco's rear possessively. Pansy immediately turned a bright scarlet, knowing she was interrupting something intimate but allowing her curiosity to rule.

"Mmm." A grunt escaped Draco's supposed whore, and it took everything from Pansy to stay hidden. She had a raspy, deep voice that she couldn't place to any girl she knew. Her thoughts were whirling, flashing faces of everyone she knew when Draco took a turn to speak: "Harry."

Pansy audibly gasped, gaping at what she had just heard. Her heart was racing, adrenaline pumping violently as she processed what was occurring before her.

Those hands, now that she looked more closely, appeared to be much more masculine than she'd initially presumed. That voice, that grunt, was much too deep. And that name... could it be? Could it fucking be?

The two separated momentarily, and Pansy strained to see the figure superimposed by Draco. He tilted his head, moving to rest his face against a shoulder that was much taller than expected. That's when Pansy caught the biggest glimpse of the person Draco had spent the last few minutes snogging. He had the most unruly black hair, round glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose, a small smile formed upon his lips. Mouth agape, Pansy was almost unable to believe the sight before her.

Draco was...gay? Gay with Harry Bloody Potter? Shock was evident, and she attempted shrewdly to wrap her head around what she had seen. As gears began to turn and pieces found their match, a rage unlike any she'd felt before began to envelope. Her world was red, bloody with ire. Draco Malfoy had completely and utterly played her. The Dark Lord hardly asked his Death Eaters to snog the enemy, and Pansy knew she'd been deceived. Her hands were balled into fists, shaking profusely as a piece of her heart began to break.

No one dared play Pansy Parkinson. Draco Malfoy would pay, yes, and he would feel her wrath. She could tell the press;the rumors alone would ruin him. No, she thought, that would be too easy. She had much bigger plans brewing, and the corner of her mouth twisted upward at the thought of revenge.

The most sickening part of it all was how impeccably happy they looked together; Draco nestled in the curve of Harry's shoulder, and Harry's arms wrapped around him protectively. She envied them, but she hated them more. And, she decided, she'd seen everything she needed to. With a look that could almost cast a wandless killing curse, Pansy stalked back to the Slytherin common room. Something in her would never quite be the same, and she reveled in this, allowing the anger to consume her beyond repair. Pansy Parkinson had, in fact, cracked.

"I was sent on a mission to get snacks, you know," Draco confessed, planting a kiss to the side of Harry's neck. He ascended slowly, placing tender pecks along the length of his skin until he reached his ear lobe. Here, he paused, biting softly before sensing the shudder that ran down Harry's spine. Harry reciprocated by running a hand smoothly down the front of his abdomen, grazing over his belt and lingering just a tad bit lower. His fingertips brushed against the fabric of Draco's pants, loosely tracing the shape of his penis. He raised his head in response, groaning at the sensation of Harry's touch. Draco's cock began to stiffen, and Harry simpered seductively.

"We should probably go get those snacks then," he suggested slyly. Draco snickered, muttering about what a tease his boyfriend was before stepping back slightly. Harry froze immediately at the sound of the word.

"So, does that mean... that we're, um... together?"

Draco scoffed. "Unless you plan on leaving me again, I would think so." His words were coated with sarcasm, but his eyes were playful.

"Besides," he continued, "Malfoy's don't shag without commitment. It's improper, you know."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You are about the farthest thing from a Malfoy at this point, Draco." He stopped, the edge of his lips turning upward coyly. "But I won't argue Malfoy principles if it means I get to call you mine."

Draco grinned, then leaned forward for one last kiss. "Come on," He said, taking Harry's hand. "We've got a kitchen run to make."

They arrived unseen through one of the back entrances to the kitchens, passing on the way what Draco swore had to be the Hufflepuff common room.

"You know they stay by the kitchens," Draco informed Harry, "and supposedly they don't have a password. How in the bloody hell do they keep people out?"

"Do you plan on walking into the Hufflepuff common room?" Harry eyed him jokingly.

"Of course not. I'm really not in the mood for hugs, friendship, or dance parties."

"Exactly." Harry mused, proving his point efficiently.

As their presence became known, several House Elves approached the couple willingly.

"Mr. Potter!" A small, gangly elf with big eyes and perky ears stepped forward.

"Popular, aren't we?" Whispered Draco as they became surrounded by a group of them.

"Hello, Dobby!" Harry greeted the elf, reaching forward to shake his hand. Draco marveled at the way he treated the elf, like a friend, instead of the way his own upbringing had trained him to. As the name and somewhat familiarity of the elf before them sunk in, Draco started.

"Dobby!?" He exclaimed, excited. "Do you remember me?"

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," Dobby bowed respectfully. "Dobby wasn't sure if Mr. Malfoy remembered him!"

"How could I forget?" Draco was wild, exuberant. "You practically raised me, in spite of my parents." He knelt down on one knee, bringing himself to eye level.

"My father was terrible to you. I no longer associate with him. I'm so sorry, Dobby."

His ears flattened, eyes glassy and widening almost impossibly. In the next moment, he was sobbing. Stunned, Draco made a face but Harry was already patting him on the shoulder. He wore an expression that read "don't worry, that's normal," and Draco turned back to the elf.

"What is it, Dobby?"

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, you are so kind! You are nothing like the Master Malfoy that bore you. Thank you for remembering Dobby, even after he has been set free."

He beamed at Harry, then Draco. "Are Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy friends now?"

"Yes," responded Harry, and it was his turn to beam at his now-boyfriend. He gave Draco's hand a squeeze.

"We're more than friends, actually," Harry continued. Draco's face went pale, and Dobby looked confused. And then, a light seemed to turn on in Dobby's eyes as understanding became.

"Well, if Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy are happy together as one, then the house elves are even happier!" Dobby clapped his hands together and released a squeal. The other house elves joined in, nodding and exclaiming their joy for the couple. Draco gave a harry a frightened look, but Harry nodded and leaned in to whisper.

"It's ok, Draco. The house elves are loyal to Dumbledore. They won't betray us." He turned to face the elves.

"Thank you, so much. We aren't really ready to announce this yet, so would you all mind keeping this detail in secret?"

There was a series of silent nods across the room. "Of course Mr. Potter!" Chimed Dobby, "Your secret is ours to keep!" Harry nodded thankfully.

"Oh, and where are our manners!?" Dobby continued gleefully. "What has brought Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy to the kitchens at this hour?"

They exited, bellies stuffed beyond their belts. Harry was licking his fingers, removing any evidence from the treacle tart he'd just indulged upon. Draco gave him a disgusted look but lapped up the remains off his own fingers when he thought Harry wasn't paying attention. Needless to say, Potter caught him immediately and laughed, shaking his head. That was when a sudden thought occurred to him.

Turning abruptly, he stepped in front of Malfoy and pinned him to the wall nearest them. Luckily, they were hidden by a large stone pillar some steps away, and Harry grinned at him slyly. "Tell me, Draco, is it that Malfoy's truly do have better manners than the rest of us?" Harry questioned provocatively.

"Or is it that you'd rather have me," he paused, intertwining his right fingers through Draco's and bringing their hands to face level. He than began to unlace them, and Draco caught his breath at the sudden closeness. Harry took hold of his index finger, keeping it extended while the others curled inward like a fist. He proceeded to lift it towards his lips, wrapping his mouth around the tip and sliding his tongue downward toward his knuckle. His eyes were closed, and when he opened them he noticed that Draco's pupils were quite dilated in a mixture of pleasure and surprise. He smiled, finishing his statement temptingly: "...do it for you?"

Draco started, unaware that a simple gesture could turn him on so much. He felt his prick start to swell, wishing subconsciously that Harry's mouth was wrapped around something much lower. Harry pressed his body against him, able to feel Draco's stiffening cock through the colliding fabric of pants. Harry planted kisses tenderly along the length of Draco's finger, then moved to his posterior hand before traveling proximally up the boy's right arm. Draco's breath was heavy as Harry worked his way upward, kissing and softly biting different areas of the arm. When he reached his shoulder, Draco brought his left hand to meet Harry's cheek, coaxing their lips to touch. Harry obeyed willingly, and then Draco's tongue was sliding across his own. God, he was so good at that, and as the snogging continued Harry felt his own cock lengthening.

"Nrgh," was the sound that escaped his throat, and it took every bit of self control not to shag the lanky boy right there on the spot. They were both very new at this, hormones raging and peaking and swooning at the sexual contact. Malfoy started to slip his hands beneath Potter's shirt but retracted them soon after. Separating, he planted his lips to Harry's once more before stating, "I hate the way you do this to me."

A glint in his eye, Potter smiled. "I definitely don't hate it. Not even a little bit."

"Come on, Harry," Malfoy smiled and stepped forward, extending his arm toward Harry. "We are way too drunk for this right now."

Hand in hand, they headed to their respected common rooms, but not before a few last gropes and pecks had been exchanged.

"This weekend's a Hogsmeade one," Draco informed him before turning toward the dungeons, "care to skip it with me?"

Harry grinned mischievously. "What do you have in mind we do instead?"

"Ive got a few ideas brewing," he winked, and Harry felt his stomach lurch. Wrapping his arms around Draco's neck, he leaned in and whispered furtively: "Meet me by the grand staircase at 10."

With an accepting nod, Draco brushed their lips briefly before turning and walking toward the dungeons. Harry stood for a moment, giddy, before returning to Gryffindor tower.

Draco entered the Slytherin common room only to find that he was alone; Pansy and Blaise must've passed out prior to his return. Shrugging, he traipsed to the dormitory. Sleep was beginning to wear on him, and he was ready for some shut eye. Especially with tomorrow's possibilities, Draco wanted to be well rested. After changing into silk pajamas, he confiscated the snacks he'd brought to a spot well hidden beneath his four poster. He then climbed in, sliding between the sheets when he happened to notice his right arm. It seemed that the house elves weren't the only ones providing souvenirs that night, as Draco had returned with several purple bruises dotted along the pale surface of his forearm. "Damnit, Harry," Draco thought, but the mere sight of the hickeys was enough to make his cock twitch. Sighing to himself, he smiled, promising revenge on the Chosen One at the next best opportunity. Draco's father had taught him that revenge is sweet at a very young age, and he stifled a laugh at this memory. If only Lucius had known just how sweet this revenge would be.