A/N: Hopefully this chapter answers some of your questions. Sorry it's taken me so long to put this together. Life and all that rot getting in the way. Hope you enjoy this whopper of a chapter! Thank you to everyone who has subscribed to this story and left reviews. You all are lovely.


Harry could barely breathe. His hand covered Draco's mouth and his other hand was struggling to push Draco's wand down. "No," he hissed, again. Draco had been unresponsive to the first few protestations. "You can't use magic outside Hogwarts. Remember?"

With a loud crack the man with the camera apparated away to where ever he had come from. Draco shook Harry off him and took a few seething steps backwards. He stowed his wand and Harry gave small thanks that he wouldn't have to try and take it away.

The man, the one with the camera, had been waiting just out of sight of the portkey's return point. It had been an obvious oversight on Harry's part. There was hardly a place he could go without someone leaking information about his whereabouts and his activities. He hadn't wanted, or expected, to drag Draco into that aspect of his life. He also hadn't accounted for Draco's hostile reaction. One moment they had been wrapped in each other's arms and the next Draco had his wand out marching towards the man, and Harry had barely enough time to stop him from casting whatever spell was forming on his bruised lips.

"What spell were you going to cast?" Harry asked once it looked as if Draco might not break out his wand again.

Draco stilled and turned to him, his features were twisted and ugly with indignation. "Why, Potter? Thought I was going to curse him?"

"No!" Harry reached out but Draco turned his back on him, so Harry took to his side. "No, nothing like that."

"Can't forget I'm a Death Eater, can we?"

"No, for Merlin's sake, stop and talk with me." Harry's own frustration built. Draco stopped walking away, his back a rigid line. "Look, I was just curious what you were going to cast because you seemed to forget that doing magic outside Hogwarts can get you sent to Azkaban. I know I'm not the quickest person, so I also know you couldn't really forget that fact."

"Deletrius," he answered. If possible his shoulders became more hunched. "And maybe a Confundus Charm."

"Deletrius?" Harry knew he'd seen it before. "That one disintegrates, right?"

"I was going to—you really didn't think I was going to curse him?" Draco asked. He turned a carefully blank face to Harry. His walls were up and Harry wasn't sure if that was any better than the anger he saw etched there earlier.

"Well," Harry hesitated. He didn't want to lie, but he also didn't know if Draco would believe the truth. "I guessed that was a possibility. But honestly? I just didn't want you to get in trouble over the stupid paparazzi."

"Stupid paparazzi?" From the emphasis, Draco disagreed with the sentiment. "We don't know who they worked for or what they're planning to do with the pictures they had taken. You aren't the only one being followed by reporters. Many of these people are just salivating at the chance I might trip up." He shook his head. "Blaise isn't the only person we're going to have to deal with now, you know."

"That doesn't matter."

"Yes it does."

"Okay, sure, it does. Is there anything we can do about it?" Harry's voice had risen to a near shout at the end. Draco's eyes went wide for a moment before schooling down to his natural infuriatingly haughty (and punchable) expression. "Gods, I—I hate them too, alright? But if living with them hounding after every detail of my life has shown me anything, it's what the hell can you do about? Especially now. Nothing, right?"

The cold started to cut through Harry's layers and he cast a quick warming charm on Draco and then himself. Other than that they truly were alone in quiet of the main road in Hogsmeade. Draco gave a long exhale and dropped the act, or what Harry had hoped was an act, of cold indifference. "Nothing," he agreed.

"Right," Harry replied able to take in a normal breath for once. "Right, so now we go. We need to get indoors and I don't have my invisibility cloak, so sneaking is probably not a good idea."

He looked around for an answer and none which sprang to mind seemed ideal. If they went for the inn, whatever paper the man sold their picture to would have a field day, and he figured Gretta probably would let them in but he didn't want to impose. He sighed in aggravation and looked up when Draco gave a little laugh. "What?"

"This is going to be interesting," Draco smiled at him but didn't give any further explanation to his thoughts. "Come on, then. Let's get a room." Harry watched him move towards the inn and put out a hand and stopped him.

"Don't you think that would be a bad idea after what just happened?" Harry asked.

Draco blinked down at him and then was blushing. "Not together, idiot." Harry was too distracted watching the blush trail down Draco's neck in patchy rose like blooms to take the insult to heart. Draco huffed. "We'll get separate rooms of course. No doubt both equally wretched."

"Oh… right." Harry cleared his throat and started walking with Draco who still looked a bit pensive and stiff. He wished he could go back in time and capture the carefree Draco from the café. He wished he could kiss him again, and for longer.

"Unless you insist," Draco threw out casually. Harry nearly tripped on air.

"No, that's probably…" He couldn't think of an excuse. "You're terrible, you know that?"

"You kissed me," Draco pointed out as if Harry could easily forget the best snog of his life. Merlin, he was in trouble.

"I was disorientated from the portkey."

Draco laughed a little more and Harry let himself smile. They didn't hold hands or kiss again on the way back, but it still felt different than the other times they walked together. It felt as if there was current running from Draco to him and that anyone with eyes could witness what was there between them.

Too soon they stood in front of the check in counter where an elderly witch wearing eyeglasses on her head and stood barely tall enough to see over the desk explained in between wheezes that there was just one room but it had two doubles and they could have it at a discount if they left early. Draco looked a little green, whether from sharing a room with Harry or because of the state of the innkeeper, Harry wasn't sure. After a brief argument, Draco gave her two fake names. Well, almost fake. "Theodore Nott and Seamus Finnigan." He said it with a shrug in Harry's direction.

"We should have used fake names for the portkey," Harry thought out loud.

"Only if it's in your agenda to start an international incident," Draco responded. "You can't travel under an alias to another country. At least not through any legal means."

They made their way to a room on the third floor and spent a nervous minute staring at the door as if it might be booby trapped. Harry was the first to push it open and the inner candles came to life revealing a not entirely dusty space. It wasn't as special or as nice as their dormitories, but it was heated and did have two beds, one of which Harry immediately fell into.

The late hour coupled with the stress and travel meant once his head hit the pillow his eyes struggled to stay open. It was purely Draco's presence in the room that kept him alert and aware, and the only thing that kept him from jumping when the bed sank low next to him.

"Harry," Draco said. "I'd like to kiss you again."

And that seemed like a fantastic idea.


The next morning was spent in a chaotic frenzy as Harry barked orders and Draco ignored them in favor of doing things that would actually matter. Eventually they compromised on their plan to return by staggering their arrival to the castle. Harry would go join everyone for breakfast and Draco would pick up his from the kitchens after dressing. This plan worked well up until the point they actually entered through the main gate to Hogwarts.

"Is it just me or…?" Harry trailed off and there wasn't much reason for Draco to wait around for the rest.

"Or is everyone reading a newspaper this morning," Draco supplied. Students from years one to "eight" gathered around in clumps hovering over copies of the Prophet. Even though they hadn't seen the news themselves, Draco's stomach took a plunge in worry. Judging by the curious eyes that met them over the papers, he had his answer to the where and who the mystery camera guy sold their picture.

"Merlin," Harry mumbled. "Did they start giving the papers away for free?"

Sometime between the walk through the gates and the entrance to the actual entrance hall, Draco had decided to stick it out next to Potter and ignore the initial plan. The Great Hall wasn't any better a place than the corridor. Nearly every student had access to the paper, including, or especially, the eighth year table.

"What do you want to do?" Draco asked. All of a sudden it seemed really important Potter have a way out if he so chose. He was so struck by the sincerity of his own thoughts that he ended up falling a step behind Harry.

"Confirm or deny," was Potter's answer. "That's what you said, right? Confirm or deny the rumors."

"If the picture is what I think it is," Draco began and paused to look at a nearby table. "And yeah, fairly certain on this account. I don't think we'll have enough of a verbal argument to deny it…"

Harry frowned. "You realize I really don't actually feel like hiding this?" he asked. "Only if you need to."

His insistence was infuriatingly gentle. Draco wondered how long it would keep up before Harry realized the consequences of dating a Death Eater, even a former one, and especially one named "Malfoy." He didn't have to wait long. After he and Potter had settled down at their table next to a nervous looking Longbottom beside a slightly smug Lovegood and a pissed off Zabini, a red envelope dropped from the owl deliveries into Harry's lap.

"Oh…" Harry stared at the very red, mouth shaped envelope. It had already begun to shake on the table. "A howler."

"Yes, Harry. A howler. Now do open it before it explodes and gets too hard to deal with," Draco said and then immediately wondered if he should be avoiding using Harry's first name. Well, in for a penny, whatever the bloody hell that means. Blaise looked to be the only one who noticed Draco's slip of the tongue as it was, and he scowled. "What is your problem, Blaise?"

"Oh, you just give me the best gossip I've gotten ahold of since coming back to this school, which by the way, no one believed for an instant except Patil, and then show off for a cameraman in the middle of the night?" Blaise asked. It was the most words Draco had ever heard him say in one go, and it seemed to startle Longbottom into talking as well.

"So it's true?" Longbottom asked tentatively. Draco ignored him for a cup of tea which he sorely needed and returned his attention to Harry whose howler was seconds away from opening itself.

"Going to have to read the paper to know whether it's true or not," Harry mumbled and then waved his wand to open the letter.

For the first time in many months, the voice of Hermione Granger filled the Great Hall.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER! WHAT HAVE YOU GOTTEN YOURSELF INTO? RON FAINTED THIS MORNING AND MOLLY CALLED THE HOUSE CRYING. IF YOU DON'T FLOO ME THIS INSTANT ('Mione… calm down, I'm sure it was all staged or something, right Harry?) SHUT UP, RONALD! HARRY, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA THE TROUBLE YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN YOURSELF INTO?! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?! WE WILL BE APPARATING IN ON THE FIRST DAY OF WINTER BREAK; AND IF YOU HAVE BEEN IMPERIOUSED, I EXPECT YOU TO HAVE BROKEN THE CURSE BY THEN. ('Mione…)"

The howler tore itself up with some angry cursing after blowing raspberries at Harry. The Great Hall seemed oddly quiet for a moment before erupting into a frenzy of discussion all at a volume much too high for breakfast. Draco's toast stilled halfway to his mouth and he didn't know whether he was fighting the urge to laugh or run away.

"Weasley fainted?" Finnigan asked. At some point during the enrapturing ministrations of the howler, he and Nott had shown up looking slightly too disheveled for a Monday morning.

Harry seemed to break out of his stupor and looked over at his friend. "That's what you're focusing on?" He waved a hand in the air. "With all of this going on?"

"Calm down, Harry," Finnigan replied. His bushy eyebrows furrowed and inclined towards his roommate. Nott just shrugged and reached for coffee and bacon. "What's been going on?"

Zabini perked up at being the one to introduce new gossip over the Prophet, and Draco could almost admit understanding why Blaise would be irritated losing that right to such a plebian publication. "Oi, don't read the papers, Seamus? Didn't hear about our little Potter running off and getting betrothed in France?" Zabini gave a not so polite smile. "Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, Malfoy."

"Nuptials?!" Harry looked significantly pale and Draco considered throwing an arm around him in case he fainted into his food. Or not. Could be amusing either way.

Of course then the reality of the conversation smacked Draco full force and he had to put down his toast before someone once again tried to surprise him into choking to death. "Give me that paper," he demanded. There were at least five copies at the table, and since he hadn't been specific, each one was offered to him at once. He and Harry snatched one each and began to pour over the article.

"Harry Potter: Secret War Time Lover? The Truth of the Malfoy Family's Lenient Punishment Exposed?!" Draco's head started to swim and his vision went—for lack of a better word—a bit wonky. Harry didn't look he was fairing too much better.

"The Boy-Who-Lived made an unannounced visit to the wizarding village of Belfou, France, with his supposed long time 'rival' Draco Malfoy. That bloody postmaster. Where's the part about marriage?" Harry demanded. His face had turned as red as a Weasley and he flipped the paper open to the core of the article. Longbottom helpfully pointed out the offending paragraph. "When investigating why the couple, oh Draco, looks like we're a couple now. Good to have that sorted… why the couple chose Belfou, this reporter discovered it to be the original home of Armand Malfoy. In fact, the Malfoy family still operates a portion of their businesses from the pier city. Those of our readers who have even basic knowledge of pureblood traditions will recognize the courting gesture of visiting an ancestral home prior to the Winter Solstice. Could Harry Potter be Harry Malfoy by next summer? Is the Boy-Who-Lived being blackmailed? Or is this the real reason for his shockingly lenient testament in Draco Malfoy's defense? Brilliant. This is a bunch of rubbish."

Draco gave a strangled groan and placed his own paper down on the table.

"Tell me its rubbish?" Harry pleaded.

Blaise and Theo were shaking their heads. Of course they would know about pureblood traditions. Neville looked a bit pale himself. Finnigan asked his roommate what they meant, and Theo leaned over to whisper an explanation.

"Well," Draco said. He paused. "I didn't think about that when I suggested Belfou…"

"Are you sure?" Blaise asked with a shrug and a mouth half full of sausage. Draco found it an oddly fitting innuendo. "Might have done it subliminally."

Draco scowled. "It's not a common practice anymore, is it? I mean, yes, it's probably expected from some of the families, but not us, surely?"

"They won't believe you've just given up on our customs after the war," Blaise pointed out. "I mean, you've never taken anyone else there, right?"

"Rita Skeeter doesn't know a damn thing about traditions."

"That's what you think is important?! Traditions?" Harry, who had been stuck in a stupor, said looking at Draco as if he were mad.

"The only thing I want to discuss at breakfast." A letter fell onto his plate as he was replying. The envelope was postmarked from St. Mungo's and he opened it with a frown.

Malfoy,

Saw the paper today. I called it. Don't let the team back out of the betting pool.

-Sully M.

A betting pool? How very Slytherin of his team. He balled up the note and shoved it in his robes swearing to extract revenge on the lot of them.

Harry threw the newspaper to the table with a satisfied grunt. Then the lunatic gathered it back up and looked at the front cover. The cameraman had been able to capture the last small kiss Harry had given him and they stood too close for there to be any doubt of what was happening. The snow and the fountain were a nice touch, and if Draco were sentimental, he may have been inclined to keep a picture for himself. As it was, he made no move to pick back up his copy. The implications that Harry may have manipulated the Wizengamot to get Draco a shorter sentence gave him chills. If the Aurors decided to investigate, it could mean throwing out Harry's testimony and calling a mistrial. And if Harry couldn't testify at all, where would he end up?

"You okay?"

Draco startled at the whisper on his ear and the hand on his own. He gave a short nod but didn't look over at Harry.

"Come on, let's go get ready for class." Harry tugged on his hand and Draco felt helpless to do anything else but follow. "Harry Malfoy?" he snorted. "That's ridiculous."


With a weariness Draco didn't think possible, he watched as Professor Brown, champion of Gryffindors, docked house points from her favored group of student because Harry couldn't answer a question on the homework. Apparently Professor Brown was a subscriber to the Prophet and even Harry's status as Savior wasn't enough to overcome her undisguised hatred for Slytherins nor forgive him for fraternizing with the enemy.

Greengrass leaned over at one point and asked Draco loud enough for everyone sitting around to hear if the story in the Prophet had been true given Brown's obvious dissatisfaction. He would have been upset with her, but her eyes had remained on the Professor who let the comment go without taking away house points.

"Better question is why McGonagall hasn't had Brown arrested," Draco muttered. He attempted to focus on his potion which was coming out the wrong shade of yellow due to his distraction.

After morning classes, he received a note along with Harry to visit the Headmistress in her office for lunch. She greeted them at the entrance looking as grim as ever, her mouth pressed into a tight line and her eyes lacking the usual sparkle when she said hello to Harry.

"Is something the matter Professor?" Harry asked. He had a way of making his face looking open and worried to mask his own nervousness with concern for others. Impressed, Draco thought that was, in this situation, a better tactic than his carefully stoic expression.

"You tell me, Mr. Potter," was her reply. "This way boys. There are a few people we need to talk with."

A few? This didn't make Draco feel at ease. When he entered the Headmistress's office he took a half-step in retreat at the sight of, not just one, but two sets of black and red robes. Auror Gretta stood off to the left, which was a relief, but another Auror that Draco didn't recognize stood closer to McGonagall's desk. A shorter wizard sat with a camera sat with Barnabas Cuffe, the editor of The Daily Prophet. Draco's fingers twitched around his wand but a cough from Gretta had him pulling back.

"Gentlemen," Professor McGonagall said addressing everyone while transfiguring a few fixtures of her office into extra chairs. "Please have a seat." She finished with a flourish and four gold and red chairs appeared next to the other two at her desk. Gretta stayed standing and Harry and Draco were ushered to the front. It felt like a slightly cozier version of the Wizengamot.

"First we'll address this nonsense with the Prophet." Cuffe looked as if he were about to argue on the "nonsense" bit, but a hard look from the Headmistress made him sit back in his chair. "Mr. Cuffe, as I'm sure you know, you are not allowed to take pictures of students while they are attending Hogwarts without permission from the school or the student." She did shoot Harry a quick look at the two boys and Draco thought he saw her eye twitch.

Cuffe shifted in his chair. "They're legal adults, not children McGonagall."

"Headmistress," came Gretta's gravelly voice from the corner making Cuffe jump.

"Er, Headmistress McGonagall," Cuffe started again. "And the picture wasn't taken on school grounds."

"I know full well where the picture was taken, and Hogsmeade happens to be part of the school insofar as where the students are allowed to spend free time. Especially our adult students, who are as just stated, students." Draco wondered if the headmistress had been a lawyer in a past life.

"I think we can agree that Hogsmeade remains a grey enough area that fighting about this will be pointless without ending up in court," Cuffe returned. "Either way, Harry here is independent cameraman who works with Ms. Skeeter."

"What?" Harry asked blinking around at the man. Draco tried not to smile.

"That's my name," Harry-the-tool squeaked. He stuck his hand out to Harry-the-Boy-Belonging-to-Draco. Hmm, apparently he was feeling a little possessive. "Harry Flash. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Potter." To Draco's delight, his Harry glared until the other man dropped his hand back to his lap.

"Independent photographers aren't excluded from following the rules," said McGonagall.

"Yes, but, in the case of two subjects as high profile as…" Cuffe gestured to the boys. "I'm sure you understand. The rules were placed to protect minors and specifically on school grounds. We could argue this in a circle all day, Headmistress."

McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose and with her wand poured a cup of tea for herself, the two Aurors, and the boys. She floated Gretta's tea to where he stood and he gave her a small smile belying his tough Auror exterior. "Well, I think we can at least agree that the article itself is ridiculous. Ms. Skeeter is accusing Mr. Potter of perjury based on a 'secret relationship.'" She turned to Harry. "This might be a little awkward, Mr. Potter. But can you tell me how long you and Mr. Malfoy have been—involved?"

Draco started to wish for his Tunnel of Ending Awkward Conversations to appear and he thought there might have been a slight tremor on the eastern wall. Next to him Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Right. Well, actually professor, just about the same time the picture was taken," Harry answered worrying his bottom lip.

Cuffe broke in with a huff. "You mean to tell me that Malfoy just took you to his home in France on a whim? That's hardly believable."

Harry barked a laugh which seemed to startle everyone in the room including himself. "That's exactly how it happened. Draco has a flair for dramatics." It should have been an insult but instead it made Draco feel warmed over. Then Harry added, "Where else would you go for coffee?"

"This is preposterous," Cuffe said, his face taking on a red hue.

"Preposterous, or not, I believe the Prophet owes Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy a retraction. If not for the overblown status of their relationship, then at least to the accusation of lying under oath," McGonagall said firmly. This was the moment where Draco had a shock and realized his life had at some point taken path he would have never foreseen. Professor McGonagall was defending him and he was in a relationship with Harry bloody Potter.

"But he does admit to being in a relationship with Malfoy," Cuffe pointed out and Draco went on the defensive again. "Malfoy, do you deny it?"

Harry looked over at him with his brow creased and understanding dancing around in his green eyes. Whatever he said, he was fairly certain Harry would back him. "What Harry says is true," he said with a coolness he didn't feel. "This is new. When Harry testified at the Wizengamot, we were still enemies." Harry frowned but thankfully kept quiet. "And if you think my—my father spending the rest of his life in Azkaban and Mother kept under house arrest is 'light sentencing,' you're mistaken. Harry's testimony might have saved me from going to Azkaban, but it hasn't been easy to reinsert myself to wizarding life." He forced out referring to his parents out loud the way others would have expected. Right now was not the time to announce his intention to divorce himself from the family.

Then Professor McGonagall stood up for him again. "Mr. Malfoy here has been working hard as a volunteer remedial potions professor. Out of all the older students who have taken up teaching positions, Mr. Malfoy is the only one to run his own classroom and to statistically raise scores across the board. If you want to print an article on him, do it about that." By the end she was literally standing up and she sat down in annoyance.

Cuffe turned from red to a pale greyish color. "Ms. Skeeter only speculated at perjury…"

The unknown Auror spoke up at this point, "Yes, but any concerns will have to be investigated, and if it comes out that Harry Potter is telling the truth, your publication could be looking at serious charges."

Cuffe relented. "Fine, we'll have the accusations redacted, but the article will get a rewrite and we still retain rights to use the photograph." Harry-the-tool looked exceptionally pleased with himself and his photo until he chanced a glance at the boys and his smile faltered.

"Now, if you gentlemen will please excuse us, I have other meetings to attend to," Professor McGonagall stood as well as everyone else. "Not you Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, I need to talk to you about your chosen extracurricular activities." Harry collapsed back into his chair and Draco sat slowly watching the reporters leave. McGonagall cast a few wards around her office and turned to them. "Sandwich?"

Not being able to refuse her stern expression, both Harry and Draco took a sandwich off the tray that appeared on her desk.

"Now then, let's sort this matter of Mr. Malfoy's parole. Mr. Malfoy, I am sorry to have Mr. Potter here, but I do need him as a witness," she said scooting a stack of forms in front of her tea.

"My parole?" Draco asked. He put his sandwich down untouched. "What about it?"

"The attention from the press started an investigation in the terms of your parole," McGonagall said. She took a sip of her tea. "Lead Auror Harrison just has a few questions."

Harrison gave a stiff bow from his chair and opened a folder. "Auror Gretta has already provided me with his written permission. Unfortunately, Auror Gretta places too much faith in his charges." Gretta grunted but didn't interrupt. "And he failed to get Mr. Potter to sign off as well. We'll also need Mr. Potter to give us a testimony of where you went and what you did. Normally that wouldn't be necessary, but as this has drawn attention. Well…" He raised his hands as if to communicate there wasn't much else to be done by it.

Draco felt sick to his stomach with the reminders that his life was not his to live as he saw fit. McGonagall, the imperious voice of reason, stepped in one last time. "Why don't we let Mr. Potter write that up in his own time? He can sign the forms now and owl you the rest later, if that would be acceptable?"

"Yes, ma'am. That will work. Just have him owl it to Auror Gretta. I think we can take Harry Potter at his word." A stab of jealousy ran through Draco and he tried to shake it off only somewhat successfully. Harry signed the parchment carrying Gretta's permission to travel with adult supervision looking uncomfortable. They avoided looking at each other through the experience.

"If there's nothing further to discuss?" McGonagall allowed the question to hang in the air before dismissing the two Aurors. Gretta laid a hand on Draco's shoulder which managed to convey "I'm sorry," and "Don't do anything that stupid again" all at once. McGonagall turned on the boys and transfigured the rest of the chairs back into their original artifacts.

"Boys," she chided. "I really don't understand how you always attract trouble. Either of you."

Harry laughed even though Draco didn't find the situation funny.

"This is very… unexpected," said McGonagall carefully. The portrait of Dumbledore which had been snoozing during the earlier meetings woke with a snort and chuckled. "Anyway, I trust you two will not make more of a public spectacle of yourselves if possible?"

"No, professor," answered Harry. Draco gave her a nod. Her eye twitched again and Draco feared they might be responsible for her premature death.

"Right, if there's nothing else—"

"Actually professor," Harry interrupted. "There's the matter of our, uh, investigation?"

McGonagall straightened at that. "Did you find something out, Harry?"

"Well, just that we found someone suspicious in the East Wing. They were meeting with Professor Brown and talking about the prince from the prophecy. They also mentioned something about revenge?" The way Harry phrased the last sentence sounded more like an apology than a statement, as if he wished he could give her more to work with.

"Is that right? Was Draco with you?" The headmistress's eyes bounced between them waiting for an answer.

"Yes," Draco replied. "I was there. There was no mistaking Professor Brown."

"I've been made aware of Professor Brown's obvious bias to Slytherin students, whether or not that is part of the 'revenge' you mention, I have no idea," the headmistress sighed. "Unfortunately, I can't fire her while this is going on." She didn't have to specify what this was. "Even if I could, there's no way of knowing she's actually done something illegal or nefarious."

"But professor," Harry said and he sat up to face her. "We heard her. Whoever she's working with, they—they are evil, I'm sure of it."

"Well, then I suggest you find out who they are and what they're doing," McGonagall said and Draco felt as if it were a dismissal.

"We can't let her go on here at Hogwarts!" Harry's sudden flare in temper surprised Draco back into his chair. "Wasn't the purpose of having me investigate this was because you could trust my judgement?"

McGonagall looked almost apologetic. "Harry, I do trust you. I just need more to dismiss her than this. When you become an Auror, you're going to have to find real hard evidence instead of acting on impulse. Do you know she's behind these recent attacks?"

"Well, no but—"

"And it wouldn't be the first time you were wrong about a teacher, correct?"

"Yes…"

Draco's eyes drifted to the black framed portrait of Professor Snape hanging on the wall next to Dumbledore.

"So then you realize why we need more proof. She could very well use this against Mr. Malfoy if we fired her without evidence. Professor Brown may even claim your very public preference for him accounted for her early dismissal."

Harry stopped looking pale. That last statement was a stroke of genius on McGonagall's part, he would never be able to not stand up for someone. "So we need a plan," he said.

"We need proof. Something more solid than a secret conversation in the hallway. But I can guarantee you two I will be keeping a closer eye on her." It was as good of a dismissal as any. Just before they left, though, McGonagall called out to Harry. "Potter, do be careful. And remember those of us who can and will help you both."

"Thank you, professor." Harry gave her a bow and a smile. Draco summoned a nod and they left for their afternoon classes.


After looking around to make sure the reporters had truly left the immediate premises, Draco cast a discreet Muffliato around them both and cleared his throat. "You're taking this in surprisingly good stride."

The wild haired boy next to him quickly looked up and away. "What part?" Harry asked.

"All of it?" Draco asked and then frowned. "I'm almost disappointed you haven't hexed anyone or lost your Gryffindor temper yet." He pushed out a hand to make sure the Muffliato was still active and felt the spell's barrier press back.

Harry sighed and drew up his shoulders in a half-shrug. "Not exactly the way I ever thought to come out."

"Come out?" Draco paused, unsure where to lead this line of questioning. Ridiculous. "What do you mean 'come out'?"

"You know…let people know I like blokes. And girls." The last felt tacked on as an afterthought. Harry blushed and took interest in a nearby suit of armor while Draco tried to puzzle out what he meant.

A heated conversation from long ago in the Slytherin common room came back to him. He remembered sitting around and listening to Blaise, who had no issues sleeping around, complain about witches who came from muggle families getting squeamish with him for having tried a few things with other guys. They claimed some sort of muggle-based bias that one couldn't enjoy the company of one's own sex. Draco imagined the prejudice that might get raised by half-bloods in common rooms with less refined breeding than Slytherin. Suddenly the idea of "coming out" made a little more sense. Just one more thing Harry Potter felt he had to hide to protect himself and others.

"They've never stayed out of my life before, have they? The papers, I mean." Harry continued. He let out an aggravated sigh and knocked a shoulder against Draco's as they walked together. "Yeah, I'm mad. Mad enough to think about using an Unforgiveable on Skeeter… I don't know if blackmailing her will work twice."

"Blackmail?!"

Harry just smiled up at him and promised to tell him that story another day. Their walk was nearing its end and while Draco wanted to talk further, he didn't really know how to go about asking if Gryffindor's had the same rubbish hang ups muggles apparently did about intimacy. Really, how had the conversation derailed this far? He had just wanted to ask how Harry felt being in a relationship with him.

At least he could distract Potter with one other important detail the other had seemed to overlook this morning. "Harry?" Draco called and stopped just as they made it to the corridor outside Divination. "Did you remember to Floo call Granger?"

"Bloody hell!"

Laughing, Draco watched Harry do an about-face and rush off in the direction of their dormitories. Part of him wanted to be a fly on the wall during that conversation. Instead, he started formulating Harry's excuse for being absent.


The next morning, uncomfortable conversations for Harry came to a front when he was cornered by a very irate Ginny Weasley on the Quidditch pitch before drills. Once her unbelievably good impression of Molly's death glare zeroed onto him, Harry had considered running for the Forbidden Forest. Somewhere between a trip to France, first kisses, nosey reporters, meetings with Aurors, and a rather unforgettable short Floo call with a possibly potion sedated Hermione, he had forgotten about Ginny. The regrettably beautiful redheaded whirlwind of terror coming straight at him, that's who he forgot. Harry dropped his broom and took a few cautionary steps backwards.

"MALFOY?!" Ginny screeched.

The few players who had shown up to do drills held a silent conference and retreated leaving Harry alone with Ginny on the field. Traitors. Ginny seemed to be waiting for a response and Harry found he didn't trust her balled fist.

"…yes?" He edged around to take a defensive dueling stance out of habit. That…did not help matters.

"What the fuck." Ginny spat out and then literally spat off to the side. "He's a worm, Harry. He's a—a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake! Did you forget his father tried to kill me?!"

"He's not his father!" The burst of anger cut through his guilt and bubbled out in Draco's defense. "He's a former Death Eater, and I think he deserves a chance. The war's over."

"A chance to snog you for his benefit?" Ginny snorted. "Don't you think he might be manipulating you?" The look she gave him said he was a fool to think otherwise and he hated it. Then it softened to something like pity and Harry decided that was worse. "I know you've been spending a lot of time with him, but you have to remember he's a snake, and he always will be. You really don't think he's doing this because…"

"Because what?" Harry attacked back. "Because he could actually like me?" He laughed, hating the way he sounded a bit manic. Arguing with Ginny, a girl he once loved and still does but in a different way, made him feel wrong and frustrated. "Saying it out loud does sound ridiculous."

"Harry…" She took a step towards him and he retreated again.

"No. Look, I know you don't understand it." He ran a hand through his wild hair. "But I have been spending time with him and he's—I don't know if he's changed, or if I'm just seeing him for the first time. For seven years I thought he was just the prat who made the wrong choice."

"He did make the wrong choices," Ginny insisted. Her eyes were infuriatingly soft.

"Maybe," Harry shrugged and he hated how he sounded so raw. "Or, just maybe, he was the boy with no choice." He picked up his broom and left her on the field.


Tuesday morning found Draco with his class, which grew yet again with two more students. With everything going on outside of his normal routine, which included narrowly avoiding being hexed in the hallways by Potter obsessed witches, the small mound of Chocolate Frogs on his desk gave him significant pause. A shuffling of feet behind him and a cough made him turn around to see Bloom, Hufflepuff type, nervously staring at the floor with half of the class behind her.

"M-Mr. Malfoy. You said you were collecting the cards?" Bloom shot a quick look to the pile of frogs and then back down to the floor. "W-we thought-t-t you m-might. Ugh." She shook herself and made eye contact with him so suddenly and sternly Draco had to consciously tell himself not to take a step back. Hufflepuffs had a strange way of showing their hidden toughness. "We thought you might accept these. As thanks. For helping us."

Bloom's finish wasn't elegant but the sentiment translated well enough. When Draco took enough time to think about it, he found he was very touched at the gesture. He had never expected anything more from his students than their attention and effort to improve their own grades. As it was, he stood a little shocked and grappled to find the right response.

"Right," Draco said. The fact he sounded like Harry just then was not lost on him. "Right. Thank you. That's—wow—there must be fifty there?" The mound impressively rose a good foot or two off his desk.

"Fifty-four," said Stromm. He knocked back his black bangs and folded his arms. "This is weird."

"Shut it, Stromm," Rowlin bit out. For the first time, Malfoy noticed the Gryffindor standing with the rest of the students who had apparently arranged this…gift. He didn't look pleased, but his presence made the event seem even more significant.

"Right," Draco said again becoming agitated about how wrong-footed and Potter-ish he sounded. "Let's finish our potions from last week. This will be our last class until after Winter Break. I'm not going to have you come in here after your Monday exams."

The class shuffled around to their potion stations while Draco organized the frogs on his desk into a more manageable pyramid to the side. Stromm set up his cauldron and started a base of distilled water next to Draco at the front of the class. His wand skills were good and he had the first few steps of the potion done perfectly without looking over at the instructions more than once or twice.

"Mr. Stromm," Draco drawled. "Is there any reason you're still in remedial potions?" The past few weeks he had watched as Stromm's, and a few other student's, marks had steadily increased to almost advanced placement levels. Yet instead of returning to their normal class schedules, they remained with him.

Frederick had the decency to look bashful. "I could use the extra tutoring?"

"Stromm…"

"Look, Mr. Malfoy," Stromm lowered his head and whispered. "I can't go back to that—that lady. Not only is she a terrible professor, she hates Slytherins." Draco thought about Professor Brown's involvement with whatever was happening at Hogwarts. His stomach dropped at thinking about sending any students her way, and at how they had no idea how dangerous she might be.

"I don't mind you staying in this class, but I can't keep you in remedial potions forever, especially if you insist on doing well on your exam on Monday." Draco started to walk around the class but he caught Stromm's thoughtful smirk. He couldn't tell the kid to fail on purpose outright, but if it was what was needed to keep him or others safe, he wasn't opposed to messing with the system.

At a lull in the potion brewing process, Draco began his stealth retrieval of Chocolate Frog cards without disturbing the little bastards on the inside. He almost had it down to an art by the time he got another Potter—50!—and two Granger, when the door to the classroom opened suddenly and Draco accidently freed a frog. The chocolate menace escaped and landed in Rowlin's cauldron sending a rain of half-finished potion into the air. Draco barely had enough time to cast a Protego and vanishing charm to keep the students from any harm.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause a fuss." The soft voice of Morgan Mallory floated over the class. Already she was distracting students from their brews as she made her way to his desk. Draco considered the merits of maybe locking his classroom from now on. "I just wanted to congratulate your engagement."

A round of whispers threatened to begin but he quelled the students with a well-trained glare. "Thank you, but the rumors are just that. I am not engaged."

"Oh, my apologies." Malory leaned over his desk, again. "Though I am happy to hear you're not completely unattainable now. My offer for a drink in Hogsmeade still stands. Or we could take a trip someplace cozier."

Merlin. "I'm sorry, Miss Malory, but I don't think that will be possible."

"Draco." His name on her tongue made him feel the pressing need to Scourgify himself. "I think we got off on the wrong foot last time. I'd really like to—"

"Mr. Malfoy?" Bloom held out a vial of her finished potion to him. The cork in the bottle was lopsided as if she had pushed it on in a hurry. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was I interrupting?"

Malory glared down at the Hufflepuff second year, obviously unaccustomed to intrusions. Draco nearly hugged her.

"Not at all, and your potion looks perfect." He really did mean the last. Her potion brewing skills were admirable, what she lacked was good direction in the main classroom. If Professor Brown proved to be innocent, he wouldn't mind fighting for her position at Hogwarts. Actually, Draco had not thought about what he would do post-graduation outside of managing the miscellaneous business deals the Malfoy family had accrued over time. Teaching potions at Hogwarts seemed almost like an unattainable dream. And yet…

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," Bloom beamed. It was then he wished Malory wasn't around so he could give Bloom the same warning he gave Stromm earlier. He'd have to find a way to keep his students safe. His students.

"Ten points to Hufflepuff for superior brewing skills," Draco announced. Bloom almost bounced back to her desk, her black braids swinging wide behind her. "Miss Malory, I appreciate your—concern, but I do have a class to run here."

"As you wish," Malory said stiffly and stood to leave. "Draco… I hope you're little thing is doing well. Sullivan, is his name?"

As the door slammed shut behind Malory, Draco resisted throwing a locking charm on it. The threat was blatant enough, even if Draco didn't know how Malory was mixed up this business.

Still, though. "Her name is Sully," he said.


For Harry, the next couple of weeks leading up to Winter holidays went by in a flash and painfully slow at the same time. He counted down the hours to when he could steal just a few moments of Draco's time in the corridors, pulling him into alcoves to enjoy the press of lips and hard bodies and hard… other things. And then release back into the chaotic world of classes, homework, and prophecy related research.

The frustration from not getting further with the prophecy coupled with never having just enough time to discover whatever this was developing between the two of them left Harry (and Draco) irritated. So far, Professor Brown had not given any reason to mistrust her beyond now punishing Gryffindors who associated with Slytherins, mainly Harry and Seamus. Despite pouring over the Marauder's Map at night, they never caught Brown in another impromptu meeting with the mysterious unnamed figure.

There was also the strange encounters with his friends ranging from good natured digs at his love life (Seamus), odd words of encouragement and support (Neville and Luna), to total avoidance and awkward pleasantries (Ginny). Since the Floo call with Hermione he hadn't received anything from the Granger-Weasley household, and he would have been a little worried he was uninvited for Christmas if it weren't for running into George who ensured him he was still part of the family, no matter his horrible taste. The dung bomb going off in his rucksack a half hour after seeing George bizarrely went a long way in making him feel better about the situation.

In summary, Harry acknowledged he was hormonal, behind on his studies, stuck on his reconnaissance work, discovering new alliances with Slytherins, and questioning his chances of survival if he went to the Burrow for Christmas.

Oh, and tomorrow Draco was leaving to go back to the Manor, something he didn't talk about but obviously didn't want to do. From what Harry could understand, part of the parole process involved him spending the holidays at his home which was heavily warded by the Ministry. This was to allow him "family time," which he clearly didn't want and couldn't fight to remove. Draco still avoided talking about his parents and what happened to cause such a rift, and Harry didn't push. He felt he could assume at least some of the reason why Draco might not admire Lucius anymore.

At least they had worked out a strategy of sorts. Draco was to return home and do research on his family, as it was the only lead they had thus far. Two unknown relatives from almost a thousand years ago who had used a curse similar to the one effecting Bobbin and Sully. Harry was to have Hermione help him with research in the library, hopefully her outsider perspective would uncover something they missed. Assuming she wasn't still angry enough to hex him.

"So, Harry," Draco drawled over their last night of homework and research in the library together. He had his tie loosened and his top button undone. Harry was finding it hard to concentrate. "Have you broken from the Imperious curse yet?"

"Pardon, what?" Harry asked blinking. He took off his glasses and wiped them absently on his sleeve. It was no use, when he put them back on Draco still occupied most his vision.

"The howler Granger sent you," Draco replied. "You didn't forget did you?"

Actually Harry had forgot. Momentarily anyways. "Are you part Veela?" he asked. Draco sat up in his chair and gave Harry a small laugh.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're very distracting," muttered Harry, even though he knew better than to inflate Malfoy's ego. Draco's chest seem to stick out like a sodding peacock.

"This is the result of pure wizarding stock, Potter. Count yourself lucky."

"Never mind, you've killed the mood." Harry sighed and flipped through his Astronomy book without reading. "You're a pain when you're on a superiority kick."

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think you like it." Draco slammed his book shut and leaned over the table. The second button seemed to come undone sometime during their conversation. "I think you like the fact I'm a pureblood. That I'm superior…" He was on his feet and leaning over Harry, and Harry found himself wondering if it was true. Was kissing Draco enticing because of his status, or because it was Draco? Draco's very presence demanded attention from his perfect hair and sharp features to the neat press of his posh robes. Kissing him was a heady experience that left Harry feeling slightly dizzy and powerful in his own way.

"So, tell me," Draco said while climbing onto Harry's lap. This was new territory and Harry found his traitorous hands on Draco's hips before he could realize what was happening. "How much do you want to overthrow this pureblood?"

Whatever had gotten into Draco, Harry was fairly certain the library was not the place for it. He held back his urge to thrust upwards as Draco delivered a slow, controlled kiss.

"I think we're done for tonight, don't you?" Draco asked once he pulled away from Harry. He delivered his questions with all the confidence and skill of someone experienced in bed but his grey eyes belied a cautiousness and wariness that told Harry he was risking something in offering.

"Yeah," Harry said breathlessly. "Let's go to yours?"

Draco smirked at that and they made quick work of cleaning their study station.


If there was a better mood killer than Headmistress McGonagall, Draco didn't know of it. Harry and he had spent the better part from the library to the dormitory touching, grabbing, and kissing, only to be met by the Headmistress in the common room. She set her face to her normal thin lipped countenance even though Draco thought he could sense her eye twitching from the door way.

"Hello Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," she said evenly. "I was waiting to talk to you."

Harry frowned and then asked the obvious question Draco had somehow missed. "Why didn't you come for us in the library? We were there for hours."

To Draco's increasing horror, McGonagall looked amused.

"When two wizards don't want to be interrupted, they can sometimes make themselves hard to find," she said with a grimace pretending to be a smile. "And I don't suppose you wanted to be found."

"What can we help you with professor?" Draco interjected. He ignored Harry's confused look in favor for McGonagall's surprise. What she was suggesting was something he wasn't ready to tackle.

"I merely wanted to know how your investigation was going and what your plans were for the holiday. Mr. Potter, am I right in assuming you will be going to the Weasleys'?"

"Yes, ma'am." Harry looked at Draco as if in apology though Draco couldn't fathom why.

"And Mr. Malfoy, your contract says—"

"That I must go back to the manor, yes, yes." Draco sat down on a loveseat in a huff and was marginally surprised and vindicated when Harry sat next to him.

Professor McGonagall seemed to squirm in her high back armchair for a moment before going on and it was so out of character that both boys tensed. "I am proud of the progress you two have made this year. I am worried, however, that this case has added unnecessary strain to your academic careers."

"Wouldn't really be a year at Hogwarts if there wasn't some threat looming in the distance," Harry shrugged. His tone conveyed nonchalance and a little annoyance, and more than anything, frightened Draco with his lack of concern. While he knew of some of Harry's past exploits, the fact that he would be so deadened to imminent threats was worrisome.

"No, I daresay for you it wouldn't be. But for Mr. Malfoy here, it might be better if you avoided conflict if at all possible."

"You want us to stop investigating?" Harry asked leaning forward with his brow twisted in concern.

"I want you to not—oh, bugger. I know you're not going to listen to me, Mr. Potter. But I would like it if you didn't take careless initiative to seek out danger without informing myself or one of our other professors first."

Draco thought he might pass out from holding back an inappropriately timed snort. No, Harry would not likely take her advice.

"Professor, I think we're getting close to whatever this is," Harry began hesitatingly. "We've found a connection to the curse that needs more investigating before we put it forward, and we planned to use the holiday to do just that."

"Oh?" Professor McGonagall looked between them. "Why would the holiday be important?"

Feeling tired of not contributing, Draco stepped in. At the very least his input now would lessen the blow when the news came out that Malfoys were involved in one way or another. "We found a similar instance of the curse being used in history. And as expansive as the library here at Hogwarts is, I doubt it holds a candle to the Dark Arts section of the Malfoy family collection." He wouldn't say too much. Better to let the headmistress come to her own conclusions on that front.

"I see. And you think this will help in understanding what is happening to Miss Bobbin and Miss Murdoch?"

Stunned for a moment, Draco hadn't expected McGonagall to be sensitive to Sully's disposition. He recovered quickly though. "I believe there is a small chance I'll find something, but not enough to encourage false hope."

"Very well, I expect a full report from the both of you when you return from the holiday." McGonagall stood and both boys stood with her. "Let me know if you need my assistance. Either of you." She turned to face Draco and for once he didn't feel as if she were judging him. "Mr. Malfoy, our previous headmasters, Professor Snape and Dumbledore, have requested for me to share some parting words."

To Draco's every loving thanks, Harry asked, "How exactly did they request this?"

"Their portraits, Mr. Potter. Both of which have been watching over you two a great deal. Now then, Draco. Please remember that help will always be given at Hogwarts for those who ask for it. And in my own thoughts: to those who deserve it, like you."


Draco

Not again.

Draco… please…

"NO!"

The air around the four-post bed felt as thick as summer's humidity. Draco's sheets and blankets were cast off and he belatedly noticed in his attempts to control his breathing that everything around him was soggy and damp. Droplets of condensation coalesced on the wooden posts, and even Draco's hair was curling at the tips. His last memories of the dream were of facing the lady in the water before feeling the pull of the woman on the beach. And he just couldn't.

A small part of him recognized this as a milestone. He didn't think he had been able to repress the Pale Lady's call before now. Another part shuddered when confronted with the reason he needed to be called by her at all. And yet another part of him was scared for not going to her, fearing he had lost his moment to learn more on what was going on. He wasn't a hero, and yet here he was thrust into the middle of things. For a brief disillusioned moment he wondered if this was what Harry had felt when at the ripe age of eleven he learned he had defeated the darkest wizard of all time, and then later when he realized he might be expected to do so again.

No matter, the sun was almost up and Draco had to prepare for his journey back to the Manor. He spent the rest of his time cleaning up the random puddles of water that seemed to have manifested from his nightmare and packing his chest with the essentials. There was some small delight taken in counting Harry Potter Chocolate Frog cards—67—before also packing a few of his textbooks he was surely not going to look at, and a few of his better robes just in case Narcissa had the crazy idea to through a Yule celebration at the mansion.

Eventually the sun rose high enough for him to think about shrinking his belongings and going to get a quick breakfast in the Great Hall. Until now, he had tried to avoid dealing with his feelings of leaving Harry. He had been in relationships before, most out of pressure as with Parkinson, who he did miss a great deal, or with those from the heat of the moment, where they didn't even know each other's names. Never had he had the time to think about the future in great detail or to contemplate what he wanted. What he wanted had never mattered.

As far as he could tell, what he truly wanted wasn't even at the breakfast table. Noting a distinct lack of poached eggs and Potter, Draco threw himself into tea and toast firmly ignoring everyone else who existed. Or at least he tried to ignore everyone. Blaise was clearly amused by something going on at the end of the table and eventually Draco had to look over and see what was going on. Seamus Finnigan was tucking in to his pre-holiday breakfast with gusto and relating all the muggle and magical things he would be doing to a clearly increasingly pissed off Nott.

"…and then Mum says Dean can come visit for Boxing Day and—"

"Will you shut it about your stupid muggle dad and half-blood mum!" Nott shouted. Finnigan's mouth dropped and his face paled. Nott himself looked as if he didn't know where the words had come from. "I—"

"Naw, I get it, don't I?" Finnigan's previous shock was quickly recovered by his ire. "Don't need a mudblood roommate, let alone one that was too stupid enough to see you couldn't be friends. I hope you rot."

With that Finnigan got up tipping over his pumpkin juice onto Nott's plate and stormed out of the Great Hall. Draco looked over at Zabini who held up a hand counting down from four. "Fuck," muttered Nott once the last digit had fallen. "Fuck!" The Slytherin nearly tripped over himself to run out of the hall supposedly in search of his roommate.

"What…" Draco looked around at the other stunned faces at the table. "What did I just witness?" He asked Blaise who just shrugged and began to butter a slice of toast.

"You're not the only one making new—friendships—outside of their house," Blaise replied.


The smokestack from the Hogwarts Express roared to life signaling a quick end to the first term as students from Hogwarts boarded to go meet their parents once again at Kings Cross. All day, Draco had waited for Harry only to be disappointed by every robe that came around the corner. Eventually he came to the conclusion that Harry Potter was not one to say good byes, and why should this be one?

They knew the plan. They knew that Draco was going to the Manor to research and Harry would do as much as he could with Granger in the library and at the… Burrow.

Draco boarded the train and picked out an empty compartment, a little easier than the first day as some students stayed behind. He thought about casting a silencing and disillusionment charm, but hesitated as he looked out at the platform. He watched as Luna and Longbottom boarded together along with Ginny Weasley following closely behind. Then further down Theodore Nott held a heated discussion with Seamus Finnigan looking equal parts frustrated and pleased. Other students passed in a blur until the train gave an initial lurch and blast letting everyone know it was time for departure.

"Draco!"

Outside his window a head of inky, messy hair came bouncing into view. His window lowered with an almost crack and he winced. "What the hell are you doing, Potter?"

"Harry…"

"Harry," he replied and couldn't help the smirk that was forming.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here before. I just had to do something," Harry replied. He was breathless and smiling and Draco had no reference for what he was supposed to do in this situation. "Can you come down for a minute?"

The train lurched again.

"I don't think so," Draco replied. He pushed down the window as low as it would go and was able to pull himself through the window to just past his shoulders. "What are you doing?"

Harry grinned and held up a small brown sack. "I know it's not wrapped, but you can't open it until Christmas." His hands trembled a little from where they held the sack up and Draco leaned down to grab onto it.

"You're insane."

"It'll hex you if you open it before the twenty-fifth." Harry winked at him. But as soon as Draco pulled the mystery gift back in and leaned back out, Harry's face had changed from playfulness to determination.

"Draco…" Harry hopped onto the train car supporting his weight by hanging on from the window. He did an impressive press up and his lips came squarely in contact with Draco. It was the first time they purposefully kissed in front of an audience. Small gasps came from all around them but all Draco could notice was the crazy boy who had raced to tell him 'goodbye.' He had barely a moment to enjoy it before Potter was dropping back to the ground. Harry looked to him in earnest. "Come back to me."