Disclaimer: If you think this is mine, you need serious psychiatric help. I would be happy to recommend a therapist, should you need one. If I owned them why would I post here?

"Doubt thou the stars are fire,

Doubt that the sun doth move,

Doubt truth to be a liar,

But never doubt I love."

-- Hamlet, Act II, Scene ii

Part 6: Love's Madness

Christmas night was uneventful, and Harry slept straight through till morning. Presents were exchanged; gift papers littered the floor of the Common Rooms and songs of Christmastime wafted through the air. Harry kept worrying about his future, and that of his friend. While Hermione and Ron tried to get Harry involved in the holiday celebrations, they only succeeded in making him move farther toward a window, where he looked out over the pitch again, to see a single figure flying on a broomstick.

"What're you looking at, Harry?" Neville asked, walking closer.

"Just wondering whether or not it's too cold outside for me to go flying. After Malfoy finishes, that is. I haven't been on the Firebolt in far too long," Harry said.

"Harry, it's only been a week. Maybe you should really play Quidditch, like everyone's been asking you to do," Neville laughed.

Harry smiled weakly. "It helps me think. I can't think if it's my job."

Neville sighed.

"I know, I know. It's just, the only thing I've ever been good at besides Quidditch is DADA and Care of Magical Creatures," Harry said. "I would sort of like to go do some dragon-wrangling like Ron's older brother, but other than that, I can't imagine doing anything else for the rest of my life."

"So maybe you should. Wait. You were raised by Muggles, right?"

Harry stopped. "Yes, but I'm not going back to my relatives. They are evil incarnate. And I've faced Voldemort 6 times, so that ought to be saying something."

"I wasn't saying that. I was saying that maybe you should do what Dean has done. Consider a Muggle career. There's an entire Ministry office that deals with falsifying Muggle documentation for those who need it."

Harry bit his lip. "I didn't know that. Thanks, Nev."

"Harry, I know that you guys don't think of Herbology as a real career, but I never thought you'd have more trouble than me," Neville replied.

"Neville, I never much worried about my future until I knew I'd have one. I mean, having an evil wizard attempt to kill you ever since you were a baby would sort of convince a person that you might not live to graduate from Hogwarts."

Neville nodded, sitting down next to him. "I understand. But you can't live your life waiting for a future that may or may not happen. I learned that a long time ago. I couldn't live convinced that I'd wake up one day and that my mum and dad would be home and well."

Harry nodded. "I know the feeling."

"You'll find what you're looking for, Harry. I know it."

Harry smiled and looked back out the window. "Thanks, Nev."

Dinner came later than Harry had expected, but he was ready nonetheless. He dressed in a slate gray jumper, blue jeans and his black turtleneck. He should have gotten another turtleneck when he went to Hogsmeade. However, he hadn't quite been thinking practically at the time.

"Harry, you ready?"

Harry turned to face Neville. "Of course. And the two snogging lovebirds are already downstairs?"

"Actually, haven't seen them since lunch. I think Ron wanted to get some quality time with his fiancée. You know that's the only reason that they didn't go to the Burrow for Christmas. Except…"

Harry sighed. "Yeah, they used me as an excuse to their parents. Something about me having missed so much time last year, and they missed me. I'm strangely used to it by now. You know how much we've actually spoken to each other since school got out?"

"No."

"Maybe there was a grand total of 15 minutes where words actually exited my mouth. Tough to tell."

"Harry, you really ought to talk to them about this," Neville said, tying his shoe again.

"It'd be like entering a staring contest with a basilisk. There's no way that I can win, and there's every reason to run from it as fast as my legs can carry me," Harry retorted, as they walked to the door.

"I… I know how much they mean to you. But sometimes…"

"Sometimes people don't see what they don't want to see. They don't want to see how alone everyone else thinks that I am. You, my godfather, Lupin, Dumbledore. They've been wanting me to get on with a normal life… but I don't know how to do that," Harry finished.

"They don't see how much it hurts you."

Harry looked at Neville. "Just remember, Neville. There is nothing that never changes."

After this, Harry fell silent, and Neville just accepted the hushed calm with the resignation of a soldier who had run out of ammunition.

There were two tables set up in the Great Hall. One consisted entirely of the Staff and more adult guests, and the second was for the students. Everyone but Harry and Neville seemed to have already arrived, and unfortunately, the last seats set were between Draco Malfoy and Hannah Abbott, Neville's longstanding girlfriend.

Harry rolled his eyes at the kissing occurring to his left and took the seat next to Malfoy.

The war had not been kind to the Slytherin. He had been too young to join the Death Eaters, and instead had aided in the defense of the school. Lucius Malfoy had met his end at wandpoint, in the final battle. Aurors didn't use Avada Kedavra, and as a result, the elder Malfoy's death had not been pretty. Then, the night of the patriarch's funeral, Narcissa had killed herself… a fact that Draco still guarded closely. He had told no one, wanting to live his life free from all others, from that point on.

His grey eyes held a haunted look, and his once slicked-back hair now fell in his eyes with increasing frequency.

Not that the war had left Harry untouched as well. But if anything, the two boys had a better understanding of each other. The Gryffindors still hated the Slytherins, but respect was earned and given.

"Another day in the Tower with the lovebirds?" Malfoy asked.

"Another day alone in the dungeons?" Harry replied.

Malfoy shrugged, keeping his voice low. "You must be psychic."

"Yeah, at least the Dashing duo kept out of sight most of the day," Harry whispered, picking up his goblet.

"Snogging, no doubt. Unless they have graduated to shagging."

Harry smiled. "I wouldn't know."

Malfoy snorted as Harry took a drink. "To the bachelors. The poor schmucks who have to listen to people like Weasley and Granger. May earplugs and a great deal of whiskey find us."

"I'll drink to that, Malfoy."

"Gods, they have no idea what they do to you, do they, Potter?"

Harry shook his head. "We've all got our own wars to fight, Malfoy. You taught me that."

"And you taught me that a life of quiet suffering is not worth your silence," Draco countered. "How's your back feeling today?"

Harry sighed, as Draco drank his wine. He pulled a face, and Harry smiled.

"You all right there, Harry?" Hermione asked, from across the table.

Harry looked up from his plate and nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah. I'm great. Just… not quite as hungry as I thought I'd be."

"I wouldn't be, sitting next to Malfoy."

The blond next to Harry stiffened at these words.

"Ron, lay off. It's Christmas, alright?"

"Malfoy, why didn't you go home this year? Your mother must miss you," Hannah said, compassionately.

"I would have, but she joined my father in death last spring. You'll excuse me, I seem to have lost my appetite," Draco said, getting to his feet and stalking out, but not before brushing his left hand against Harry's right. A piece of parchment was passed.

'Slytherin Common Room. Password is 'hot ice'. Bring your present, love and I'll bring mine. All my heart is yours. – Rîw."

Harry yawned and reached for his glasses, painfully aware of the fact that he was being watched. "Morning, Draco."

"I told you that you don't always wake up before me," he said, draping an arm across the Gryffindor's abs, and then gently pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder.

Harry looked down, running his right hand through Draco's hair and said, "You know how many people would go ballistic if they saw the two of us like this?"

Draco narrowed his steel grey eyes. "And just whom would be justified in such an action?"

"Half of the women of Hogwarts. I mean, everyone knows that you're one of the richest and most eligible bachelors in the school, and perhaps the entire Wizarding World," Harry replied, smiling and teasing Draco.

"Oh really, and what about you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, and my godfather. He hasn't given me any kind of sex talk yet. Granted we haven't had sex, but… well, I can defeat a Dark Wizard or seven, but he can't say, 'Don't get anyone pregnant and try not to slut around if you can help it.'" He sighed. "That wasn't too bloody hard, was it?"

Draco sighed. "It is my experience that people often make things harder than they have to, my love. Mortals… it seems like a lifetime ago that I was mortal. Since I thought like they do, I mean. Even you don't think like they do anymore, and that has less to do with mortality than with experience. The truth is, there is no black and white, often no clear-cut answer or path… You do see that, don't you, Harry?" Draco whispered.

Harry nodded tightly. "They either have to learn to accept this… accept us or have to avoid the issue. And it's only a matter of time before everyone we know has to make that choice."

Draco swallowed silently. "I know. And I'd tell you to have faith in the goodness of people, if I were someone else. But I'm not."

"Thank Merlin. No, Draco, you aren't. And we all know exactly how they'll react. Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin and maybe Granger might look at this logically. We're just two friends with benefits. But Ron's bound to flip out, and the others? We'd have a better time convincing Snape that Neville was a Potions Master from Outer Mongolia than convincing the rest of the world that this is truly what we both want. I mean, we started dating before the curse kicked in, didn't we?" Harry stretched a bit.

"Fuck the rest. I'm convinced," Draco muttered darkly.

"Indeed. By the way, we should probably head off to breakfast if we want to avoid out-ing ourselves this particular morning."

Draco sighed again. "It's bloody Boxing Day. Who bloody cares?"

Harry lifted Draco's arm. "So you want to face the world today?" he asked as he got out of Draco's bed.

Draco sighed once more as Harry reached for his bag. Harry pulled out a black long-sleeved shirt with silver printing on it and changed from his sweatpants into trousers. Socks were pulled on next, then black Doc Martens.

"Harry, why is it that you are always running? I'd gladly tell everyone today if it meant that you'd be able to stay with me forever."

"What was it that told me that patience is a virtue, as is moderation?"

Draco growled, pulling a shirt from his wardrobe. "I just knew that would come back to bite me on the arse someday… I didn't know that it would be today!" He tugged it on, and then dressed quickly as his only companion in the dungeons packed his bag again, looking for things he had nearly forgotten.

"I can't believe you got me turtlenecks."

Draco turned and smiled at Harry. "Well, that black one of yours was looking somewhat… shall we say 'tattered'?" he asked, arching a blonde eyebrow. "Besides, I have to tell you… that whole 'biting on the wrist' thing is quite off-putting. It's something I'd do to Weasley, but not you."

Harry just shook his head as he also packed the cologne Draco had given him.

"I'll walk you out, Harry." He sighed. "I wish you were a Slyth. Then you'd never have to leave."

"Sorry. But I don't think I'd have survived in the dungeons during the war," Harry admitted as he put on his heavy winter cloak.

"I know," Draco breathed. "C'mon. Let's get you to breakfast."

They walked through the silent dorms to the door of the Slytherin Common Room, then paused as Draco placed his back against the stone wall and pulled Harry into a passionate kiss by his shirt front.

They broke apart and Draco smiled, raking a hand through Harry's dark tresses. "Okay. Now you can go to breakfast, luv." But his eyes widened as his gaze shifted to a point beyond Harry.

"What?" Harry asked, alarmed.

"Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps if you two are quite finished, you may explain why I have two teenaged neo-Romeos in my dungeons engaging in less than savory activities?" a snide voice asked from behind Harry.

Harry flinched. 'Oh shit!' he thought. "Professor Snape."

"Mr. Potter. Perhaps you would care to explain why you are here, and not in Gryffindor Tower with the rest of your House!"

Harry turned, sheepishly running his fingers through his hair. "It was Christmas and I had no desire for either of us to spend the night alone," he stated firmly.

Snape raised an eyebrow before turning to Draco. "I see. So then you are the Accursed that Albus warned me about?" he asked.

Draco swallowed and nodded, biting his lower lip nervously. "Yeah," he rasped. "I guess I am."

Snape looked at them both, folding his arms in his sleeves and arching his eyebrow further. "You hid it well. Very well done, in fact. Both of you," he said kindly. He then frowned at Harry. "And as for you, Mr. Potter. You have been avoiding me all term."

"Old habits die hard. I suppose I have. I'm sorry, sir."

Snape nodded. "You do realize that Albus will find out soon, whether I tell him willingly or not, Draco?"

Draco sighed. "Then I shall tell him today."

Harry squeezed his hand. "We'll tell him together. I'm as much in the middle of this as you are."

"Only because I dragged you into it, Harry."

"Too bleeding bad, Drake. Besides, if Dumbledore understands then maybe he can call off my family. Sirius only recently found out that I was seeing someone. They… may have issues…" Green eyes sought Snape's own. "But you know that too, don't you?"

The stern Potions Master nodded. "Even if you were merely friends, Black would still have problems with your relationship."

Harry nodded. "There is no black and white."

"No clear cut answer," Draco finished.

Harry sighed, but paled. "I think I've lost my appetite."

Snape nodded. "To the Headmaster's office with both of you."

--00--

I know, I'm a bit nuts posting this before basically everything I write becomes AU, but hey… Fanfic must continue, even if it's not Rowling approved. By the way, if you haven't seen it, there is a great little article on msnbc about fanfic, and you can access it through my livejournal for now.

I am waiting with bated breath to see who she killed off in this one, although regardless of who it is, it will make every story of mine AU. Son of a bitch, right?

On a happier note, I have a new idea for a new story, but it will not be posted until SS is finished, and I know that Tears of the Wolf will be finished by my birthday in August, unless something really bad happens in my life. And my mom is undergoing surgery next month, so we will see.

A side note. My birthday is August 16th, and that's a good date, because you get enough time between birthdays and Christmases. But I was born 5 years to the day that Elvis died. So do you have any idea how annoying it is to hear nothing but Elvis' life history and greatest hits on your birthday? It's a bit depressing… after nearly 21 years of it.

Can anyone else sympathize?

And thanks to my beta reader Lexi, who got this file and returned it less than 4 hours later, the day before she left on vacation. She is cool, even though I supposedly don't give her much to do with my stories. *shrugs, then glomps all readers* Bye, and I hope she hasn't killed off Draco, Sirius or Remus… that would be very offputting. My money, based on her reaction is something more akin to Dumbledore or Hagrid getting killed off. What do you think?