Chapter 35: Harsh Rays of Morning Light

Draco shifted his body, burying his face further into the pillow. He then rolled onto his left side, opening his eyes only a small bit.

Pain slammed into his temple, aching like hundreds of burning-hot hammers swinging at almost every spot.

Hurt…hurt…hurt!

A sound came out from his mouth that was too low, too tortured to pass as a groan, like he was a severely-battered, mangled animal barely hanging onto life. Draco tried to move over to the other side of the bed to ward off the pain, but in a blink of an eye the pain spread, a brutal cycle that went around and around, crushing his skull into pieces, picking apart his brain.

Goddamn hangover. Goddamn bourbon for causing the hangover. Goddamn Parkinson for suggesting it-

"Glad to see you're finally awake, Sleeping Beauty."

A scowl slashing across his face, Draco cracked his eye open, despite the unbearable throbbing, to glare at the git smirking at him, lounging at the window seat.

Goddamn stupid Potter for being a git!

"Remind me," Draco's words came out as a croak, his throat dry as a cactus. "to kill you when my head stops pounding." And when the goddamn room finally ceased spinning.

Harry's smirk broadened. If it wasn't for the fact his body was so weak, Draco would have threw a pillow at his head to knock off that smirk.

"Make yourself useful, Potter and get me a hangover potion."

"Even though you asked so sweetly," A teasing glint sparked in those emerald greens. Draco made a vow to get the git back with a knock on the head by the pillow and several punches to his arm. "I'm afraid my knowledge of potions only goes so far. Sadly, the cure for a hangover isn't part of it."

Draco groaned, and then whimpered as he realized he was on the same boat. He should have taken up Blaise's offer to learn the potion when he had the chance. He suppose he could always go to Severus, but the man made it clear he'd maimed any snake who came crawling to him in the morning for an aid to their liquor-causing suffering.

Harry hopped off the window seat and walked over to him, offering Draco his hand. "Come on."

"To where?"

"I may not know how to make a hangover potion but I do know the remedies on how to cure it. I've helped Remus more than once get Sirius back on his feet after a wild night. Remus says there are two good cures to hangovers: water and food, particularly of the greasy kind."

Draco's stomach churned at the thought of food. "I think I'll pass."

"Trust me, you'll feel better. But first," Harry sniffed the air a few times and stepped back, waving his hand in front of his face. "You need a shower. Bad. You smell like a bar-and some leftover vomit."

Growling, Draco stuck his tongue out at him.

It was a mission to get out of the bed with his stomach, every limb in his body actually, protesting against the movement, punishing him with flares of pain that lashed like a whip. The mission then took a dangerous curve when he was forced to not only stand but make the long journey from the bed to the bathroom on two useless legs. If it wasn't for Harry the human crutch, he would have fallen flat on his face.

"Dear Merlin." Draco muttered, stunned, studying his reflection in the mirror.

Dear sweet Merlin, his hair. His beautifully-neat, always-straight and perfect hair looked as if it gone against a band of wild, vicious birds trying to make it their new home. Stingy, matted, out of control. It actually made Harry's tangled mop look neat. And that wasn't the worst of it. His eyes were still glassy and rimmed red, as if he didn't get enough sleep. Or cried.

Which was completely ridiculous since he knew for a fact he didn't cry. At least…he didn't think so. Draco ranked through his mind on what happened last night at the ball. He remembered-he remembered…entering the ballroom and feeling like he was walking through a winter wonderland. He remembered getting a chance to dance with Harry and how incredible it was, wrapped in each other's arms, being lost in their own world. He remembered feeling a mix of anger and hurt churning stomach when Harry went back to Lovegood. He remembered Pansy appearing by his side with a bottle of hard amber.

After that…after that…he remembered feeling warm, too warm like he had over a dozen thick blankets wrapped around his body. Then cold as he left Pansy's room. Warm again as Harry tucked him in. Then cold once more.

Obviously there were gaps, big ones in between those moments. He could feel it. Yet for the life of him he couldn't remember. It was like there were black holes planted in his mind. The more he tried to grasp onto something, a memory, a fragment, the bigger the holes got.

Draco took out his frustration on his teeth, scrubbing every spot and morsel till they were gleaming. He peeled off his clothes and threw them into the laundry basket. He pulled back the shower curtain, stepped inside, and grinded his teeth as he turned the water to cold. He recalled reading from a book somewhere that cold water helped with hangovers; made the mind more awake.

Too bad reading didn't prepare him for the shock of icy water that rained down on him, stinging like a set of whips that struck on and on, again and again. Draco yelped loudly from the lash. Teeth chattering, he forced himself to move closer to the water until he was standing directly under the showerhead, letting the water drench him. Slowly, through the haze of freezing cold, his mind started to wake up, growing more alert. His limbs started to feel attached to his body instead of detached.

He drenched his washcloth with his favorite body wash and used it to scrub every inch of his body, welcoming the aches from his hard handiwork that were a better substitute than the numbing cold. He used the same elbow-grease handiwork for his hair, pouring a handful of shampoo into his palm, scrubbing hard.

Minutes later, he was done, skin tender, body numb, almost feeling like a human being again.

"Harry?" he asked as he rummaged through his drawers to find something to wear. Nothing too casual but not sloppy either, cozy enough and wouldn't require much effort to put on.

"Yea?"

Draco pulled out a black sweatshirt and a pair of Harry's jeans he knew would fit him. "Did any-anything happen last night? Before you put me to bed?"

Harry pulled away from his journal he was scribbling in to look up at him. "Besides the fact you were a drunken mess that could barely speak English?"

Stinking git, Draco scowled. "Yes, you idiot, besides that."

"Well you called me, Pottery for one. Then put up a bit of a fight when I tried to put you to bed. You ended up pulling me down and getting on top of me when I tried to move. After that, you demanded that I read to you. Who knew Draco Malfoy could be such a needy drunk?"

Draco's cheeks flamed in mortification. On second thought, he took it back-he didn't want the black holes fixed. He didn't want his memories. He didn't want to remember how bad of a drunk, how much of an idiot he acted last night. "And after that?"

He was surprised by the light shade of red streaking across Harry's cheeks as he looked at Draco and then quickly looked away. "Something happened. Before I put you to bed, I mean."

Draco took a step forward, his brow arching questioningly. "What?"

"We…we, um, we did the serpent salute." Harry finally answered. "Thoroughly."

Oh…oh-oh! Draco's mouth dropped open but no sound came out. Harry made a point of not looking at him.

He looked around the room, cheeks blazing, as if he were trying to find an answer. There was nothing left to do but to get dressed, so he did just that, taking his sweet time of drying himself off, slipping on his sweatshirt and pulling up the trousers.

"Draco." Heart pounding, he looked over his shoulder. Harry leaned forward in his seat, fingers wringed while his hands sat on his lap, finally looking up. "About last night-"

"Best friend." The words unfolded in his mind like paper, planting a seed in his chest that quickly sprouted into a gnarled tree.

Draco swallowed down hard and turned to the mirror, studying his reflection. He picked up a comb and brush, determined to do some damage control for his hair.

"Draco."

"I'm hungry," he said. "We should go eat."

He turned back and immediately regretted it the moment he saw hurt filling Harry's eyes. Hurt he caused, hurt that made him feel like a knife was jabbed into his stomach.

"I-I-just-I'm hungry." He cringed from the words, wanting to knock off his own mouth.

Harry said nothing. He didn't even look at him as he got up and headed over to the door.

The knife twisted slowly, excruciatingly slowly in Draco's gut. "Harry."

"You're hungry, aren't you?" He still refused to look at him.

"No. I mean yes. I mean-" Draco grabbed his arm and held on tight. "I-I just…I do wanna eat." He cringed again as those words left his mouth. Another symptom to hangovers: voicing out verbal stupidity. "And then…then," Spit it out, his mind screamed. He forced his feet to move a step closer despite the nerves wildly bouncing around in his body. "I-I would like for us to talk. Really talk."

Harry glanced down at his hand before turning his gaze back up. Even in the early morning (or maybe it was late day) the intent gaze never left his eyes. He nodded, a soft, almost-shy smile curling his mouth. "Okay."

"Okay."

He nodded. Draco sighed in sweet relief.

"Come on," Harry said, tugging at his hand. "Let's go get you some food."

There were few people out in the hall, even less outside the Slytherin wing. The Great Hall only contained a small number of students who were clear-headed enough to be out and hungry enough to crawl from the safe havens of their beds.

Blaise and Pansy were already at their table, Blaise chatting away, Pansy responding with eye-rolls and head-shakes. Theo was across from them, looking down at his bowl of oatmeal he stirred with his spoon, face somber and remote like he was working on a potion.

"Malfoy, Potter." Blaise smirked. "So the happy pair joins us at last."

Draco scowled at him as they took their seats, sitting between Theo and Harry. "If it wasn't for the fact my head was killing me, you'd be spitting out your broken teeth right now."

"You always say such the sweetest things. No wonder girls are falling at your feet."

Besides Draco, Theo scowled at his bowl, gripping tightly onto the spoon.

Ignoring Blaise, Draco loaded his plate with practically every dish presented on the table: toast, a few mini muffins, scrambled eggs.

"Someone's definitely a hungry boy." Pansy commented, eyes focused on her nails she was filing away. An odd smile splashed across her lips, disappearing as soon as it appeared.

A strange sort of nausea came over Draco watching that smile, one that felt like nausea and also shame though he couldn't explain why the latter.

Theo then reached over the table and scooped up a spoonful of bacon, dumping it on Draco's plate, nearly hitting him with splotches of grease dripping from the meat.

Draco scowled at that but still got out, "Thanks Nott, though you may want to work on your aim." And your table manners, he added silently.

Theo only shrugged as he settled back into his seat. "Think nothing of it, Malfoy. You look like you can use the caloric energy."

Draco spared a glance at Harry, who shrugged. He nodded thanks to Theo and had himself a bite.

"I suspect you'll need to recharge after your all-night, long-haul, undoubtedly-thorough fucking session with Pansy!"

All around them, the Great Hall was moving in its usual morning motion with students talking and laughing over bites of toast and eggs, teachers discussing their plans for classes and the holidays. At the Slytherin table, in a small section smacked in the middle, silence hung over the the friends, sound severed by those harsh words that struck like lightning.

Draco nearly choked on his eggs, inhaling too quick, swallowing too much. Across from him, Pansy's face had gone white as a sheet. Next to her, Blaise's eyes darted back and forth between her and Draco as if he was waiting for a deadly competition to start. To his left, Draco could feel his skin practically melting off from the heating glare of Theo's eyes. To his right…Draco couldn't even bring himself to look. He knew if he turned, he'd see something bad. Something much, much worse than all the other reactions combined.

Remind calm, he'd told himself. Maintain composure. It was just a tricky situation he fallen into, one he could easily slip past with a few well-choice words. "I think your reading dietary is starting to fry your brain cells if you seriously think-"

Theo cut him off with a glare that could carve a man up like a turkey. "I don't think, Malfoy, I know. Your ghastly half-dressed, askew-haired appearance said it all."

Draco felt his Malfoy mask crack. Why, oh why in the name of Merlin didn't he fix himself up more properly before he left Pansy's room?

Theo apparently wasn't done. "There is also the matter of the fact I caught you crawling out of Parkinson's room and said-and I quote-right to my face, 'Don't worry, Nott. I wore her out for you.'"

Three pairs of eyes whirled over to him. One lit with shock and anger, another bright in curiosity, and the other…Draco didn't even to look at them.

His cheeks, his entire face burnt so severely from the scrutiny and the silence that he was surprised he didn't combust right at the spot. "I-"

Merlin must have decided to have mercy on him because, despite the anger roaring in her eyes Draco knew was reserved for him, Pansy turned that fiery glare over to Theo. "And who the hell gave you the authority to blurt information that doesn't concern you? Or act all high and mighty and pass judgment on a friend and someone you made clear you wanted nothing to do with it?"

Theo returned her harsh glare with a dark one of his own. "A person who actually felt guilty about what he said last night and planned on apologizing until he sees your date," He jerked his thumb towards Draco. "Stumble out of your room looking like he had a hands-on, X-rated duel match with y-"

Theo's head nearly flew off his neck, whipping to the opposite direction as Pansy's hand collided with his cheek.

Hundreds of eyes flew over to their island, students, teachers, but Draco didn't meet them, glued to his seat.

Only one word could describe the look seething in Pansy's eyes as they glared at Theo: terrifying. Absolutely, bone-chillingly terrifying. So much so that Blaise moved down a few inches.

"You arrogant, brainless, pompous arse!" Pansy but all shrieked. "Who the hell are you to sit there and pout and act as if you have the right to judge? As if I owe you something. I don't own you a damn thing! Except a good kick to your head."

"Were you or were you not with Draco? Did I or did I not see him crawl out of your room looking as if he had himself a grand time doing the horizontal mambo with you?"

Pansy stood from her seat and Draco was so sure he'd see her half-eaten breakfast spill over Theo's head. Or even on himself. She surprised them all by giving Theo a smile that was a mix of nauseating sweetness and sharp, jagged coldness. "What I do and who I do is none of your damn business!"

She marched out the room, causing students to flee from her path. Draco saw most of them wincing from the look in her eyes.

Theo slowly turned his attention back to Draco, his eyes nearly black and hard as onyx stones.

"Theo-"

"I highly, highly suggest unless you wish to learn firsthand the brutal severities of torture relished by the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans, you stay out of my way and out of my sight for the rest of your miserable life!"

"Theo-"

He stood up from the table so abruptly with enough speed and force that the plates and cups rattled, nearly spilling over. He was already through the door before his name could be called a second time.

Whispers buzzed like noisy crickets, starting soft and growing loud. Glances flew from and between the empty spots in their island, the door where the two patrons ran off to, and to Draco.

The attention was barely noticed by the three who remained. Blaise wisely looked away, covering his mouth with his fist. Draco kept his eyes focused on the plate of wet bacon drenched in an ocean of grease. The silent one by his side reminded silent, which wasn't sure whether or not it was a good thing.

"You and Pansy?"

Apparently the silent one wished to shed his name.

Heart pounding, stomach churning, Draco stole a glance at Harry and immediately wished he kept his eyes at his plate. Harry's eyes weren't roaring in anger like Pansy's, jagged and cold like Theo's, but there was something in there, the way they carried that made Draco feel uneasy.

"You and Pansy?" Harry repeated, tone and calm as it was when he asked the question before.

"I-not the way Nott is implying."

"But clear enough for him to make that jump given how trashed you looked," Steel started to coat over his voice. "At least now I know why your buttons were messed up."

There was no reason for Draco to feel as if he had been slapped. No reason for the words to be taken as an insult. And yet, it was so greatly, unbelievably easy to jump from point A straight to point D. To suspect that the words contained a sly, heavy depth meant to sting. To latch onto anger and use it as a shield against shame and humiliation threatening to swallow him whole.

"Spare me the migraine, Potter. Your voice is like a drill grinding into my skull."

"Must have been one kiss if you're blushing so hard and avoiding the question."

Draco scoffed and examined his nails, needing something to do. "Just the same as every other kiss I received: completely, utterly irrelevant."

No sooner did the words come out did he wanted to hex his mouth shut for the rest of eternity. No sooner were the words released did hurt, undeniable, heartbreaking hurt glowed in Harry's emerald-greens that dug into Draco, slicing through his chest all down to his stomach.

"Harry, wait!" He latched onto his best friend's arm. "That's not what I meant."

Harry knocked away his arm, as if the touch disgusted him. "That's exactly what you meant, Malfoy. Message received. Loud and clear."

"But-"

Harry was already gone before he finished the vowels of the word.

Draco swallowed-or at least attempted to but the lump in his throat was too big, his throat too dry and tight.

"And then there was two."

And he was a good five seconds away from finishing Zabini off with a stab to the neck. Slowly, he turned his head away from the door and over to the other remaining patron of their island, his hands balling into such tight fists, he could feel his skin breaking.

Oddly enough, Blaise didn't burst into laughter like Draco thought he would. He didn't fall off his seat, cackling. He didn't launch into demands and questions over the last-night chaotic. He didn't even wear a smirk on his lips. There was something else, though, not quite laughter but definitely amusement and curiosity dancing in those wicked eyes of his.

"You know, I really picked the most perfect day to come down for breakfast. Got decent food and a grand show." Blaise concluded, taking a sip of his juice. "And you may want to move your knife another direction unless you want Moody to change you back into a bouncing ferret."

Draco hadn't realized how close he was to coming through with his promise to stab until he saw how high the knife was, how close it was to Blaise's throat. He also didn't realize a different sort of onlooker was paying close attention to them until he saw the one-eyed, handicapped troll shifting closer to their table, his "good" eye narrowing.

He lowered his knife and laid it beside his plate, giving the professor what he hoped looked like a charming smile.

Given the way the man's eye slanted, his gaze hard and distrusting, he wasn't the least bit fooled. Fortunately for Draco since there was no danger, Moody had no choice but to carry on, though Draco noticed that the man moved with reluctance.

"You're welcome." Blaise drawled as soon as Moody was out of hearing range.

Draco responded with a terrifying growl that made nearby Slytherins shift further away. Blaise replied with a cool eyebrow lift, completely unfazed.

"During her third divorce, my mother pulled me aside and told me something I never forgot. She said 'Pity and also savor the man who doesn't realize he's hanging himself until the stool's knocked over.' I agree. There's an odd but sweet satisfaction in watching a fool being hanged by his own tongue."

The sensation of his skin stretched out too thin alerted Draco that he was clenching his fists again. He forced himself to unclench them, aware that eyes were still on them even though the fools thought they were being discrete, telling himself over and over that although it would be all too sweet to bash Blaise's face in he didn't need to give Moody a reason to go after him. No matter how much every nerve in his body was screaming at him to do it.

"Cut to the chase, Zabini," Draco said through clenched teeth. "Are you implying I'm the fool in this scenario?"

"Not at all. A fool's downfall usually consists of one thing. Yours, on the other hand, consists of several." Blaise listed them off with his fingers. "Pride, which as history has taught countless times, is the ultimate downfall to any man. Alcohol, which is severely underestimated, removing the mask guarding the unconscious mind. And another person, an unfortunate victim, you brought down with you to the post. That's not the making of a fool, Draco. Those are the makings of an idiot."

The reasons he had for not punching Zabini's face in started to crumble, dissolving with each word that came out from his mouth. "Who the hell do you think you're talking to?"

"An idiot who's just as stubborn as he is blind." Blaise snapped back, all traces of amusement wiped clean from his face.

Even with anger fuming in him, Draco was shocked by the expression, unable to recall a time he ever saw Blaise look so serious.

"Shall I spell it out for you?" He didn't even bother waiting for a reply, already launching into an explanation. "Person A and Person C were miserable because the people they wanted to be with were with other people. So person C gets bottle, person A follows along, and the two attempt to rearrange the alphabet to make a point. Note that I say attempt generously. Person A brags to person D that they fucked person C seven ways to Sunday, proving that short temper and alcohol do not at all go together. Later on, when person A was somber enough, something happened between him and person B. Judging by the tight fists, red cheeks, and avoided eye contact; I pretty much hit the nail with that one. And now thanks to you, person A, the alphabet is one big mess."

Draco's teeth were grinded so hard together, he could feel them cracking. For his own sake and sanity, he forced himself to remain still, to hold it together otherwise the fools would have a front row seat to a bloody execution.

Blaise either was oblivious to the fact he was in the dangers of becoming a dead man or simply didn't care. The tight, thin-lipped smile curling his mouth pointed at the latter. "Yes, Malfoy, as it turns out, I'm not only pretty. I can think too."

"Barely!"

Blaise's smile grew tighter. "Here's what I think. You need to sober yourself up, get the full picture of what happened last night, and clean up your mess."

He rose from his seat, shot Draco a wink, and strolled out of the Great Hall.

And then there was one.

By noon pretty much everyone-and to Draco's great embarrassment he did mean everyone-knew about what happened between him, Pansy, and Theo after the ball. That was one of the many, many flaws about the school: secrets were only an illusion. There was no such thing in the school with its thousand-and-one ears listening closely, loose-lipped students who blurted out information at the drop of a hat, mindless professor who didn't understand the meaning of confidentiality busy-body ghosts craving gossip like it was their lifeline. Once a secret was out, the whole school knew about it in an hour. Then added their own twists to the story an hour after that.

Draco caught snippets of those twists. Rumors that Draco used Pansy to get back at Theo for getting a higher score on a Charms exam. Rumors that Pansy realized she could do better and tried to get pregnant with Draco's baby so she could have a share of the Malfoy fortune. Rumors that the two were already married and decide to consummate the marriage. There was a new one floating around that the three were actually a threesome and Theo was furious that they started without him.

The last one left a horrible taste in Draco's mouth. The idea of getting close to Theo like that, the idea and the realization that he actually was close to Pansy nearly made him empty the contents of his stomach again.

His heart went out to Harry who had to deal with this sort of scrutiny from not only the school but from most of the wizarding world. His heart went gave a hard kick as the look of absolute hurt and rage in his eyes ran through Draco's mind.

He hadn't seen Harry since breakfast. Then again, it wasn't as if he was looking for him. He wanted to, he really did, but he had no clue what to say. How to clean up the mess his big mouth once again threw him into.

Draco decided to take Blaise's advice in getting the full picture of the story. The only was he would be able to do that was remembering, which meant he'd have to get the hangover potion. Problem was that came with a price, two prices actually.

In order to get the potion, he'd have to go to the one man who knew how to make a perfect one. He was hoping to slip in and out of Severus's office without a scratch. Unfortunately, it seemed hope and reality were in a nasty pickle today since the man was waiting for Draco right by his door, holding a small bottle that contained a dark gray liquid, wearing a scowl that was frightening to say the least.

"I should be surprised that of all dunderheads, you're the one coming to me," he drawled. "but I would only be lying to myself."

Draco snarled at him. "Can we please skip to the lecture and get to the punishment already? I've had enough to last me a lifetime."

"I beg to differ," Severus said. "However you are right about one thing. You will be punished."

Crabbe was under the illusion that just because Severus was his godfather, he'd go easy on him. Ha, such a naïve thought. Draco may be one of Severus's star students, and, yes, he may turn a blind eye whenever Draco's assistance with another student led to catastrophe, but Severus was a man who didn't tolerate disobedience from anyone. He made sure the fool regret their mistake, and dear Merlin did Draco regret his.

Severus made him scrub close to hundreds of cauldrons that used in the students' potions final, badly churned with smoke still clinging onto them, and caked with grim and dry, nasty-looking green mud that looked like expired relish left out in the hot for weeks. Draco's nose nearly fell off his face from the stench. The horrible thing was that wasn't the worst of it. It was what Severus gave him to clean the cauldrons.

"A toothbrush?!" Draco exclaimed. The name itself was too generous to flimsy tool he held in his hand. It was too small, too thin to even clean a mouse, swallowed up in his hand, the teeth falling apart before his eyes.

"Be grateful that I'm not making you use your own." Severus said.

Seeing that he had no choice, Draco grinded his teeth and got to work. His poor arms were killing him. The gunk was stuck there like glue, requiring extra elbow-grease. It wasn't only a pain to get it out, it was also a pain to the touch. It stung his hands like acid, though Severus claimed that the potion wasn't hazardous. Despite the long hours and work, Draco was actually grateful for it. Cleaning up the cauldrons helped take his mind off things. Helped him ignore the fact he made things worse between Theo and Pansy, that he may have ruined his friendship with them, that he may have severely ruined things with Harry.

Severus handed him the potion three hours later, warming him he wouldn't be so forgiving the next time around. Draco would've gone by the lake to take it and think things over, not quite ready to go back to his room, but it was covered with ice and snow so he went to the Astronomy tower instead. Usually the spot was a taboo place to go for such a thing since it was usually taken over by groping, face-fused couples, but it was still early and the campus was mostly deserted.

Besides, he had a good feeling most of those couples were huddled with their friends in their dorms, their common rooms, gossiping over the Slytherin love triangle.

Draco glanced down at the small potion in his hand. It had no scent and looked plain, almost like melted steel. He tilted back his head and swallowed it quick, grimacing at the bitter taste.

For awhile nothing happened. His head was fuzzy as it was before, but then a pulse started to buzz around his head, slowly poking into his skull like a needle, unleashing flares of pain that spread through his head.

Draco barely had time to gasp before the memories flashed across his mind.

"I wish…" Messy, pitch-black hair as dark as the night sky. Emerald-green eeys specked with gold. For them to back in their own world. To burn the image of Harry laughing and dancing with the she-weasel that played over in his head. His stomach lurched, the liquor churning uneasily. "To forget. About everything." Especially tonight, he thought.

"Me too." Pansy murmured.

He looked at her. She looked at him.

The next thing he knew, they were face to face, chest to chest, Pansy's glossed lips crushed against his.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, his mind practically sang. The harder he tried to ease himself into the kiss, the louder the singing grew.

He tumbled off the bed because he was too dizzy, too overwhelmed by the drink and the sight of emerald-green.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say, all he could give before he left.

Pansy. Dear Merlin, the hurt in her eyes as she sat up, her dress pooled around her waist, made walking out the door impossible without feeling as if a knife was twisting into his stomach.

"Did you-did you-" Theo glanced down the hall. "Did you just come out of Pansy's room?"

Irritation washed over him like a wave. Dear Merlin, did these two ever give it a rest? "Don't worry, Nott. I wore her out for you."

How was it possible he was drunk out of his mind and still somehow managed to spit out those words with perfect clarity?

"Say it again, those words."

"…he's more myself than I am. Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same."

He couldn't remember feeling so warm, as cozy as he did wrapped in Harry's arms.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off by running his thumb over his lips, free from sticky gloss and chapped and softer than everything he ever touched.

"Draco."

He looked into those beautiful emerald-greens, a rich shade he knew couldn't be copied, couldn't be matched, and leaned in. His lips fell on Harry's like a snowflake finally landing onto the ground. Only instead of the snowflake melting away, it sparked into a flame. A flame that sparked in the center of his chest, glowing so brightly, before it exploded into a firestorm.

Goosebumps nipped his skin as Draco recalled that kiss, one of many that followed afterwards. How they were lost in a world of lips, hands, and each other. And how quickly it burnt to ash.

"Still mine?" Draco asked in a low whisper.

For a second, he was sure Harry fell asleep until he felt the bed creaking from Harry moving closer to him. He shivered from the warm breath that brushed against his chest as Harry placed a light kiss on his cheek.

"Of course I'm yours, Draco. I'll always be yours, just like you'll always be mine."

The words wrapped around him like a nice, cozy blanket. Draco melted into its embrace with a sigh and smile, slowly closing his eyes.

"You're my best friend."

Draco sank down to the floor and drew up his legs, banging his head against the wall.

Blaise was right. He and Pansy were miserable, drunk, and wanted to have fun. Wanted to forget. Pansy was just as willing to go far as he wanted and he threw it back at her face, pulling away, leaving her half-naked and alone. It was a dick move, a horrible one to do to a friend, and he worsened the situation when he flung those words at Theo's face. And Harry-oh dear Lord, Harry. No wonder he was crushed by what Draco said.

Just about as much Draco was when Harry pushed him away because things got too intense, and then when he whispered those words.

"You're my best friend."

His title for years Draco took great pride in, his crown that separated him from the other peasants, his security blanket that no longer fit. It was like Harry poured icy-cold water over his head.

"You are a hard man to find. And a popular one at that."

A groan stirred in Draco's mouth at the sound. Slowly, he counted backwards from five and looked over to his right.

Pansy looked down at him, arms folded across her chest, mouth curved into a smile that was sharp as a knife. "And apparently so am I. I think more boys have come up to me these past few hours than they have the whole four years combined."

Thanks to those rumors no doubt. Draco winced as he rose to his feet. "Pans-"

A crack whipped through the air, and he was nearly knocked down to the floor. It took him almost a minute to piece together that his cheek was stinging, courtesy of Pansy's slap.

Draco held in a hiss, holding his cheek, the skin still hot. "Okay, I deserve that."

Her hand smacked the other cheek, striking him twice as hard, dotting his vision with burning red stars.

"Okay, I deserve that too."

"You deserve to have your face clawed off." Pansy remarked. "But I don't want to ruin my manicure."

Cheeks throbbing, Draco took in a deep breath, which worsened the pain. "I'm sorry, Pans."

Her smile was a brittle, ugly thing. "For what? For rejecting me and making me feel like a slut? For bragging to Nott that we slept together and implying I'm a slut? For the school knowing about what happened and now being branded as the official harlot of Hogwarts?"

"All of it. Especially for-for what happened. In your room."

"I don't want to hear-"

"It had nothing to do with you. It had everything to do with me, all me. What we did-or-or almost did," It was a struggle to get the words out. "It didn't feel right, and if we had gone further-" He couldn't suppress the vicious shudder that tore through his body at the thought, at the memory of Pansy being so close to him and feeling as if he were shedding his skin. "It wouldn't be fair to either of us. And I couldn't do that to you."

A fragment of anger melted from her face.

"As for Theo? I guess I was drunk and annoyed. Annoyed by what happened." And the sight of emerald-greens, a voice whispered. He ignored it, saying, "Annoyed by his horrible timing. And I was also mad about what he said to you so I suppose I wanted to throw it back at him."

"That has to be one of the stupidest forms of chivalry I ever heard."

"I know."

She stared at him and shook her head, turning her gaze over to the window.

He took a step forward. "I'm really sorry."

Pansy watched the slow, steady fall of snow, the flakes reflecting in her eyes. She was a pretty girl. Not stunning as Delacour, but Pansy was attractive, her hair still long from the spell she used for the ball, loose and spilling over her shoulders, skin smooth with a light-pink tinge, eyes steady and cool as the snow falling outside. Yet when Draco looked at her, he didn't feel anything. He didn't feel strange bolts of warmth pricking his stomach. He didn't feel lightheaded from standing so close to her. Last night, he focused more on feeling something instead of actually feeling.

"Don't be," she finally said. "Now that I think about it, it's actually a blessing." She looked back at him. "You're a cute, amusing guy darling, but sadly my tastes are set at a higher standard."

Even knocked down, Pansy was still Pansy. She was much like him in that aspect; it was what made them such good friends. It was why they would only be friends.

"As for Nott, your loose lips turned out to be an angel in disguise," she said. "Nott is an idiot and any inkling of doubt saying otherwise has been abruptly cut." She glanced down at her nails as if she was considering treating them to a trim.

Any other friend would've gone along with her claim, but Draco couldn't. His mind couldn't let go the image of tears pooling Pansy's eyes as Theo verbally cut her down and walked away. Her body curling into a ball, eyes a thousand miles away, confessing her confusion for Theo. Confusion that was-that was all too similar to what he was going through with Harry.

"Liar."

Pansy's smile faltered for a moment and then quickly snapped back into place. Her eyes tightened, though, as she looked at him. "I suppose it takes one to know one."

Draco bristled. Pansy's smile grew more sharp.

He didn't go back to his room until late night. To his surprise, he came into an empty room, which he was actually grateful for. He still no idea what he was going to say to Harry. How was he going to explain the fact that he went with Pansy because he couldn't stand seeing him twirl and laugh with the stupid she-weasel? That he freaked out and ran out on Pansy not because he was drunk or scared but because for a moment he saw Harry's eyes gazing up at him? That he said what he said at breakfast was because he was still angry, still jealous, still confused by the "best friend" comment, which hurt the more he thought about it?

He couldn't think of a single explanation.

All too soon the door pushed open and time was no longer an option. Draco's heart leaped to his chest as Harry walked into the room, his hair surprisingly damp, dust powdered on his clothes, the egg he stolen from the dragon tucked into his arm.

He looked almost surprise to see Draco as Draco was by his appearance.

"Draco-"

"Look what I-" Draco's body went still as a strange scent tickled his nose, his brows furrowing as he walked over to Harry. He smelt hundreds of soaps clinging onto his skin but his nose caught the faintest scent of chestnuts and honey.

The scent of a Hufflepuff.

Red swept across his vision. "Why the hell do you smell like Diggory?"

Surprise knocked out of Harry's eyes as they narrowed into cold slits. He shook his head and dropped the egg on the table. He nearly flinched when he turned around to find Draco right behind him.

"Why the hell do you smell like Diggory?"

"Why the hell do you care?"Harry stepped around him, leaving Draco no choice but to glare at his back.

Draco knew he shouldn't give into anger, he shouldn't pay any mind to envy's infuriating snickers, but when one was crossed between anger and rationality, anger typically won. "Did you two exchange notes about Chang before, during, or after your bath time?"

Harry was halfway over to the other side before he paused, one foot raised midair. Slowly he placed it down. Slowly he looked over at him. Draco found himself looking into stone: hard, dark stone that were cold as they were brittle.

"One," Harry said. "Cedric only helped me figure out how to open the egg. Two, you are the absolute last person to stand there and judge. Three, if something did happen, then it's as Pansy so beautifully pointed out 'is none of your damn business.'" His lips curled into a smile except it was all wrong, deprived of any warmth. "After all, a kiss is the same as any other. Completely, utterly irrelevant."

Draco would have happily welcomed a hex, a stinging hex that would maim his face. A punch to the gut that would knock the air out from his lungs. Either one would have been kinder, hurt a million times less than having his own words flung at his face.

He tried pushing through the shock of pain by taking in a deep breath, then another, and another as he took slow steps toward him. "What I said…I didn't mean it. I just…I…"

If there were ever a time he needed goddamn blasted words, now would be the time. Only his tongue was useless, his brain complete shite.

Harry studied him for a moment and then shook his head. "It's late. I need a shower-again. And you need sleep."

"But-"

Harry disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him.