A/N:Oh, this chapter might not be as long as the past couple chapters have been (aren't you so proud of me? my chapter lengths are muy bueno) because the next chapter is a chapter fic (based on a song) but it won't be really cheesy or nothin'.

Thank you everyone who left such kind reviews. ^.^ I know, that boyfriend was, to put it lightly, an asshole. A motard, if you will. ^.^ And the aforementioned friend and I are at that point in a fight where your conversations are really rude and short but its better than not talking at all, neh? Eh.

Oo...I felt mighty Canadian right there. -_-;; Just kidding to all you Canadian homies. Represent.

By the way, never leave your writing notebook opening. First, because you don't want people to read your stuff if you're like me. But also because, and this is important, your cat may throw up on it. Yes. It happened. Gah. So disgusting. This wasn't a hairball, okay. This is like if your best friend had a fever and up and hurled into your backpack. So groddy. So I lost the climax to the story!! I know! Grr, argh, meh.

Billy Corgan's lyrics are amazing, and his videos are thrilling pieces of art that everyone should watch. And I understand where all you people are coming from about Draco's attitude. But keep in mind that his whole life he's been surrounded by complete evil. And his heart has been broken more than once. So he's going to be craving human contact, but he's also going to wary of being hurt. 'Tis natural.

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"I tried so hard
To cleanse these regrets
My angel wings
Were bruised and restrained
My belly stings…"
--Smashing Pumpkins "Today"

The next morning Draco's head pounded as if a forty-gun salute had gone off beside his ear in the middle of the night. He stumbled off to the hospital wing before breakfast to get a quick cure, but ended being held there by an overzealous Madame Pomfrey who decided to check him for every possible sickness.

More than once, she came dangerously close to making him take of his robes, but he was able to protest and say he had to get to class. Thankfully, she let him go, watching his retreat anxiously.

The school term had restarted at an alarming pace for the fifth year students. On the other end of Christmas, the impending O.W.L.s looked horrendously close, and the teachers had begun to do a mind-boggling mixture of review and new material. Students found themselves ordering packages upon packages of parchment, and suddenly everyone seemed to be adopting Hermione Granger's way of studying--never ending.

Draco and Harry were seeing each other less and less, and their time together was spent mostly exchanging shoulder massages and studying.

But somehow Draco got the impression Harry didn't mind as much as he did. It only made him bury himself into his work more and more, and he felt himself connecting with Harry less and less. Their anniversaries were passing without much notice, and they would go for days and sometimes weeks without touching each other in any remotely intimate way.

After a while, Draco began to wonder if they had been moving too fast, and perhaps they had needed time to slow down and really think about where they were.

In the beginning of February, he and Harry met in a clearing near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, which wasn't near as frightening as the approaching finals.

"Hey," Harry said breathlessly when he came to where Draco was sitting on a stump. He bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. His lips were cold.

"What's the occasion?" Draco asked as Harry sat cross-legged on the ground. Harry looked puzzled.

"None, why?" he asked. Draco shrugged and played with the piece of grass in his hand.

"I don't know. You just seem really friendly tonight," he said softly. Harry shrugged as well and they sat in silence for a while.

"How are you doing on that Dark Arts paper?" Draco finally asked, feeling as if nowadays their lives only connected—barely--at points dealing with school.

Curling his lip, Harry replied, "The one on the history of Azkaban? Horribly. You?"

"Eh, all right. I could give you some of the books I have on it."

"Wicked." It was the single most unenthusiastic 'wicked' Draco had ever heard. He swallowed a sigh and went back to messing with the piece of grass.

"Draco?" Harry said as he watched Draco split the blade of grass and began to make designs with it. Without glancing up, Draco gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

Harry cleared his throat. "What's wrong?"

Draco considered playing stupid, and saying something like 'I don't think anything is wrong.' But it would be useless, and Harry probably thought he was stupid enough already.

"I don't know. What do you think is wrong?"

Shifting quietly and getting a blade of grass of his own, Harry murmured something about not knowing either.

"Well, that got us somewhere," Draco said sarcastically. Coloring and abandoning his grass, Harry spat back at Draco with annoyance.

"It's not like you're getting us anywhere!" Draco continued to play with his grass, not wanting to look at Harry.

"I didn't know I had to play relationship counselor," he replied, sneering and making sure his voice drawled. Leaping to his feet, Harry reached forward and Draco recoiled out of instinct born of an early childhood that was pocketed with beatings. Harry froze.

"What are you doing?" he said, looking down at the way Draco had pulled from him. Embarrassed, Draco tried to sit up straight, but found he had seemed to be stuck in the prone position. "Did you think I was going to hit you?" Harry whispered in shock, "I was going to take the grass from your hand." The point was moot, as Draco had dropped it when he had shied away.

"I know," Draco said stiffly, but his body language must have given away his fear, because Harry stepped back, his face a expression of sadness.

"Why would you think I'd hurt you?"

Draco stood and tried to shake of the image of Harry, who had looked too much like Lucius in his anger, from his head. "I don't want to talk about it." He turned to stalk off to the castle, but Harry reached out and grabbed him.

"What is going on between us?" he asked, pulling Draco him, trying to ignore how Draco shrank beneath his touch. "I love you, and I am going to be there for you, but you have to tell me about you, Draco."

Draco realized it was the first time Harry had said he loved him. "You love me?" he asked in a meek whisper. Elation filled Draco like a euphoric high. Harry smiled as he saw Draco's eyes fill with happiness.

"You and no one else," he said. Draco saw that this was what had been missing. He had been unsure of Harry's love in return.

At least, he hoped that Harry's declaration of love was what he needed.

No matter. He wrapped his arms around Harry and held him tight. "I love you too."

Hugging him back, Harry said with joy in his voice, "Let's not let this disintegrate into a low budget romance film."

"Film?" Draco asked, pulling away.

"Muggle thing," Harry said, brushing it away.

"I love it when you speak other languages to me," Draco laughed, and kissed Harry. Warmth spread from his lips to his head, then down to the tips of his fingers and toes, despite the chilling February air.

Even though they both had tests the next day, they were up for hours talking, trying to fill in the lost weeks of nothingness between them.

The conversation inevitably, as many of their conversations had, to their morals and ethics.

"I'm just saying that it's hard to gauge when it is okay to have sex. It had to be treated on a case by case type...thing..." Harry said.

"So, you think that a really mature seven year old should go out and do it the moment she thinks she's ready?"

"Of course not," Harry protested. "But...a mature fifteen year old..." he blushed and left the end of the sentence for Draco to finish in his head.

"Ah. I see. You're so dirty."

"And you're so annoying."

"I may be annoying, but I know you've thought of me naked," Draco joked.

"Don't flatter yourself," returned Harry.

"Okay, Mr. Mature." When Harry began to nod off in the middle of his own sentences, Draco shook him awake and led him as far as to the castle entrance, from which they continued under their invisibility cloaks, the fabric resting light against their clasped hands. They let the hoods fall for a few dangerous, precious moments when they kissed.

"Whee," Draco whispered, chuckling as they parted.

"What?"

"I've had my nightly dose of suck face for the night. I can sleep soundly."

"Har dee har har," Harry laughed sarcastically before leaving.

Valentine's Day, being right around the corner, had begun to have its affect on the residents of Hogwarts. It was probably at a higher pitch then normal among the fifth years, desperate to get their minds off work, work, and work.

Pansy asked Draco and Blaise every day at breakfast, lunch, and supper who their Valentine was. Draco was beginning to enjoy thinking up new people every day. He'd already declared his undying love for people like Frieda, the medieval witch that had a hare lip but was famous for discovering the five variances of the ordinary levitation spell.

As the day grew nearer, the Great Hall got pinker and pinker, but there was, thankfully, an absence of the horrible singing goblins passing out their highly embarrassing telegrams. Draco began to wonder if he and Harry were going to get each other anything, and if they did, what? Nothing cheery and what you'd get a girlfriend, but the only thing that had been appropriate for Harry was his watch.

As casually as humanly possible, Draco asked Blaise what he would want from a girlfriend who was willing to spend lavish amounts of money on a Valentine's Day gift.

Blaise grinned. "What? Is Pansy getting you something?"

"No," Draco said sharply in disgust. "I was just wondering."

"If you have a secret girlfriend, you can just tell me," replied Blaise, sitting up in bed, resting his quill on top of his History book.

"I'm secretly dating your mother," Draco quipped. Rolling his eyes, Blaise went back to his homework. "Have you seen Crabbe and Goyle lately?" Draco asked. "I haven't seen those two in awhile."

"Some older kids took them up as their own little yes men. I would think you'd be glad to get rid of them," replied Blaise, scratching his forehead and leaving a long mark of ink. Draco didn't have the heart to tell him. Besides, it looked too cute next to his deep black widow's peak.

"Are you kidding? I love not having them nipping at my heels."

"Liar," Blaise chimed in a sing song voice.

Smirking, Draco left to wander the hallways, hoping to have a burst of inspiration regarding Harry's present. He was in a small hallway that led into the Grand Foyer when a voice called out to him.

"Oh, young man!" a woman's voice chimed. He turned and saw a portrait of a young man, and holding onto his arm was the woman he had met in the tower many, many nights ago. The man was not Godric Gryffindor, but he was quite attractive and didn't have Gryffindor's horrible hair.

"Hello," Draco said amiably, walking over to the portrait. She touched her hair and grinned at him, looking remarkably better in the portrait that was cleaned regularly. She didn't have the pale, unwashed appearance. "You're looking wonderful," he commented, making her giggle and blush.

"Oh, don't waste useless flattery on me," she giggled, and then she rested her head on the shoulder of the man whose arm she was holding so dearly. "I wanted to thank you for dusting me off," she whispered. "I was on my down to find Godric and that horrible Ravenclaw woman, and I ran into Kiernan here, who is an Irish wizard prince, and we've not parted since!"

"Good for you!" Draco said, clapping lightly. Kiernan bowed to him and kissed his love's cheek. "You know, I never got you name," he told the woman.

She smiled at him and said primly, "Adriana Renee Primella Darling."

"Okay," Draco said slowly. She laughed at the look on his face.

"And what shall I call you?"

"You can call me Draco," he said lightly.

"Did you ever go after the one you loved?" she asked, her voice dropping to a secretive whisper. Draco nodded and smiled.

"Aye. And we're still together," he said, his smile turning into a broad grin that almost made his face hurt. The woman clapped for him, and even the man bowed.

"Good for you," he said. Draco bowed back.

"Thank you," replied Draco. "But now I have to go. So...I will see you later," he said. Adriana smiled.

"Good luck," she said. Draco shook his head.

"No, no. Good luck to you."

~

On the morning of February fourteenth, Draco awoke with a heavy head. He's been up till almost midnight racking his brain for a Valentine present, twisting the ring Harry had given him so much that his finger turned red.

But now it was the morning and he had not thought of anything, He prayed that Harry had not gotten him anything.

The Great Hall looked outrageously pink and cheesy; Draco couldn't stop curling his lip as he moved to his seat. The drinks had all been dyed pink and red, and many of the younger, less self-concious students wore singing hearts on their lapels.

"This is ridiculous," Blaise exclaimed as they sat down.

"You're just saying that because you don't have a Valentine," Pansy sang, latching on to Draco like a barnacle on to a rock. Draco shifted uncomfortably under her grasp, glancing up every now and then to look at Harry, who was watching him like a hawk. And when Pansy bent over and planted a kiss on Draco's cheek, both he and Harry shuddered.

The teachers were light on their work that day, except for Snape, who seemed especially bitter this Valentine's day, and had them whip up a particularly hateful brew.

But at lunch, after the mail, everyone was opening their Valentines and well wishes from family. Draco received quite a few anonymous love letters, but one of them was unmistakably from Harry, making fun of the letter sent on Christmas.

Pansy snatched that particular letter from his hand and began to complain about people making too big of a deal over such a minor holiday, and then she passed him a large, bright and cheery one that sang song after song until he finally shut it inside the largest book he could find in his bag.

Thankfully, Pansy's eyes had skipped the tiny print on bottom corner of the note that said 'tonight at seven in the foyer.' It was soon after classes ended, and Draco wondered what Harry was playing at. But he got his invisibility cloak and sneaked away from his room at seven.

Even though Draco was a few minutes late, the foyer was empty. He pulled of the cloak and looked around, scratching the top of his head.

Suddenly, he was seized from behind, and though he felt a hand press against his mouth, he could not see it. "Hah," Harry's voice said, "caught in the act."

"Of what? And I swear if you say something cheesy like 'stealing my heart' I'm going back to my dorm."

"Well, bugger that, then. Put your cloak back on. We're going to my dorm tonight."

Draco put his cloak on and felt a hand grab his. He was led up the stairs and in a curvy path through the main part of the school until they came to the infamous Fat Lady portrait, which had been attacked in their third year. When they reached this, Harry removed his cloak, startling the portrait.

"Oh, hello," the woman said, looking down at Harry, who had let go of Draco's hand so it didn't seem as if he was missing a hand. It was clear that Draco was to keep his own cloak on.

"Phoenix wings," Harry said politely, and the Fat Lady smiled at him and swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall that Harry crawled through and beckoned for Draco to follow him.

When they emerged on the other side, Draco got a good look around him. The colors in the room screamed Gryffindor, with deep red and gold draperies hanging from the walls. The armchairs were large and red and scattered throughout the brightly lit and very warm room, which was shaped like a circle. There was a wall of accomplishments by Gryffindors in the past to Draco's left, and to his right, quite a few armchairs were gathered around a fire. This seemed to be a normal place for most Gryffindors to converge, because Harry immediately went over to it.

"Hey, everyone!" he said energetically, and as Draco pulled up behind him, he could see that almost everyone he detested was sitting there. If only Pansy could sit in the empty spot beside Longbottom and across from Weasel, it'd be complete.

There was a chorus of 'hey, Harry!' and Draco discreetly tugged the back of Harry's robes, but he ignored him and leaned in as Weasel said something. Draco did a double take as he saw that Granger was sitting on Weasel's lap. Draco tried to contain his shudder.

"Listen, I'm gonna need our room by myself for a little while. I need to finish something."

"Okay, no problem," Finnigan said, "we're just talking. Is an hour okay? Because then I have to work on Potions homework."

"We don't have Potions homework," Granger informed him, putting a hand over Weasel's mouth as he tried to get her attention.

"Late work."

"From how long ago?" Granger said, obviously horrified by late work of any kind.

"I don't know…" Finnigan said, shrugging, "maybe a month?"

"I'll see you later," Harry called, grinning as he watched Granger prepare herself for a lecture. Someone said 'Happy Valentine's Day' and Harry waved behind his head. He walked towards to sets of staircases leading up. Harry took the ones to the right and walked for a while, until he reached a door that had a sign hanging from it that said "Fifth year boys." He eased the door opened and held it open for Draco to slip past. He closed it only when Draco pulled off his cloak. Harry took it and threw it on the ground by the door, where they were both within reach.

They looked at everything but each other for a couple moments, giving Draco time to take in the room. It was obvious which bed was Harry's; it was covered with Quidditch paraphernalia, and his Firebolt was on the chair next to it.

The silence in the room was getting heavier and heavier, until Draco had to break it before they both went mad. He stepped forward and linked his hands in Harry's.

"A whole hour?" he whispered. Harry nodded and kissed his forehead.

"A whole hour," he echoed.

It was very obvious why Harry had brought Draco here.

"Will you be my Valentine?" Draco said in a seductive whisper. Harry answered with a kiss, pulling Draco close to him. They kissed for minutes that seemed to pass too quickly, and soon enough it increased in passion, yanking them both down into a void of feelings and touching…

Feeling Harry pushing him backwards, Draco paused for a moment, and touched the edge of the bed that he was leaning against. "Are you sure?"

"Are you?" Harry whispered in his ear. Draco answered by reaching up and gripping Harry's collar and pulling him on top of him as he felt backwards. Harry straddled Draco and leaned forward to kiss him again.

He felt Harry's hands groping for the bottom of his robes, and he tried to help, but couldn't bring himself to remove his hands from playing with Harry's hair. Then, quite suddenly, he felt a pair of hands making their way up his legs.

Something in his head screamed at him, telling him to make Harry stop, but his whole body was alive, dancing and singing and wailing at every touch...

like a knife to flesh...

Draco snapped his head up as Harry's fingertips reached his stomach, and they froze. Harry was staring at the lumps under the robe that were his hands, and his fingertips began to move slightly. They graced the little scars and the still tingling cuts from a couple nights before.

In a movement so sudden it made Draco jump, Harry flung the robes back to reveal simple black pants and a bare stomach that couldn't stand to have fabric against it. His eyes filled with tears as he placed gentle fingers against the scars, scratched deep into the flesh.

"Draco..." he whispered, his voice now thick with tears, void of the passion that had been in it moments before. Draco tried to yank his robes down, but his efforts were weak and futile as Harry inspected his stomach. "How could you do this?" he asked. "I don't know," Draco sobbed, trying to pull away from Harry, away from those doleful eyes that glistened with tears. He pulled his legs from underneath Harry and curled up at the end of the bed. He'd never felt so vulnerable in his entire life, not even when his mother had died. Harry was never supposed to find those cuts.

There was silence except for Draco's muffled sobs and Harry's sniffs as he wiped at his eyes. "We have to tell someone," Harry whispered. Draco shot up, his face streaked with tears.

"No. Don't tell anyone," he demanded, horrified. "This is my business."

"This is our business, Draco!" cried Harry. "You're cutting yourself. You need help!" He reached for Draco, his hands shaking. "Let me help you," he whispered.

"No. Don't touch me," hissed Draco, stumbling from the bed. Harry's look of misery was quickly changing to anger.

"You need help, Draco," he said firmly. When Draco backed away, Harry stomped his foot. "You need to see someone who can help you. Why didn't you tell me that you were this upset?"

"Why aren't you telling me everything about the Order of the Phoenix?" Draco shot back, crossing his arms across his stomach, which still tingled from Harry's fingers. At this, Harry fell silent, biting his lip and turning away. "Yeah, because none of you trust me. I sincerely doubt that pitiful excuse for a group was even a dent in how many people are truly in this 'order.' I'm not stupid, Harry. I may be crazy, and I may be gay, but I am not stupid, and I would think by now you'd know that."

"Dumbledore said…"

"Dumbledore said what? 'Only tell him what's necessary?' or 'only tell him enough so that he knows where to sit in my office'? You haven't told me ANYTHING that I couldn't have figured out on my own. Yet you want me to tell you everything I know."

"Draco, you are important to me and to the order. Would I have gotten…" then he shut his mouth as a look of horror crossed Draco's face.

"What?"

"Nothing," Harry said, shaking his head, knowing what it had sounded like.

"Would you have gotten what?" Draco said, balling his fists, trying to shut down his mind so he didn't have to think about the pain. "You wouldn't have gotten close to me? So you're using me?" His voice cracked as he said this. "I knew it. I knew I should have never gotten close to someone like you. You're just a brown nosing, Mudblood loving, do-gooder prick."

"And you're a self-mutilating arrogant asshole!" Harry yelled back. Draco let his arms drop.

"I don't think there is really anything left to be said," he whispered. Then, with a rude hand gesture, he stormed from the room.

In his fury, he had forgotten the invisibility cloak, so he stomped through the Gryffindor common room, still full of students. Immediately, quite a few of the rest of the brown nosing pricks jumped to stop him, but he stopped and turned to Weasel, who was nearest.

"Lay a hand on me and I will make you unable to have children," he said dangerously. Weasel stepped back, and he exited the tower unhindered.

When he got back to his dorm, anger was pulsing through him, making his finger twitch with the desire to strangle someone. Instead, he went to his bed and upended the mattress, revealing the hidden books on religion and faith and love and all the things that weren't true and that had forsaken Draco. He picked them up and began to rip the pages out, tearing them into shreds that showered down on him and the surrounding area. With every pull, every cut as a paper hooked his hands just right, he let out a sob.

Then he collapsed on to the floor, amid the bits of paper and crumpled bed sheets. He drew up his legs and began to cry. The door opened, and Blaise walked in, looking at alarm at the mess, and at Draco.

But he didn't ask questions. He just walked over, sat down, and wrapped his arms around broken Draco, and rocked him back and forth.


and our lives are forever changed
we will never be the same
the more you change the less you feel
believe, believe in me, believe
that life can change, that you're not stuck in vain
we're not the same, we're different tonight
tonight, so bright
tonight