There was no painting, no letter the next day, nor the next. Draco found himself staring, looking for the familiar owl which carried his letters, but none came. Draco found himself lying awake nights thinking about this strange boy, and more than once, crying. He bumped into Potter one day exiting the Great Hall after dinner.

"Shove off, Potter, you're in my way."

"And we're just supposed to stand aside and let you pass? What are you, some kind of king?" the Weasel snapped back.

Draco shot the red-headed boy a death glare. "Potty, the Weasel, and Mudblood most certainly should stand aside for a member of the Malfoy family!"

Ron's face flushed in anger. "Yeah, well--"

"Don't worry about it, Ron," Potter said softly. Incredulous, the Weasel and Draco both looked at him. Draco noted the dark circles under his eyes and the tiredness in his voice when he spoke. "He's not worth it." He turned and walked off, and Weasley, after shooting another death glare at Draco, followed. Mudblood hurried to catch up, and as Draco made his way to his dormitory, he found himself thinking about Potter.

He'd looked like he hadn't slept in days, and Draco wondered if that was obvious in himself as well. To his admirer, to Alone, it must have been.

= = =

Where have you been? Why haven't you written me? You told me you loved me, and I love you too, so why are you avoiding me? If you really don't want to tell me who you are, that's all right, but... please, just don't shut me out like this!

The owl soared up and away, and Draco made his way back to bed, but he didn't sleep.

= = =

I'm sorry, Draco. I was... I was surprised, and almost... afraid. No, I can't tell you, because you would hate me if you knew. I'm sorry I left you hanging for so long--was it really only a week? It felt like so much longer...

No, I'm not a girl, and I'm glad that doesn't matter to you. I haven't slept... but neither have you, I wager. Get some sleep, love, and I won't have to paint you like this.

Love,

Alone(?)

Draco looked at the painting. His hair was disheveled, his eyelids drooping, bags below his eyes. He looked a mess, and it fit, because he was a mess. He sighed.

I would never hate you if I knew who you were. I want to know, and I'll find out myself if I have to.

Draco

= = =

"Draco, would you be so kind as to correct Mr. Potter's essay?" Snape asked.

"Gladly, Professor." Draco took Harry's parchment with a smirk, noting the other boy's exhausted features. But since when do I care? he thought, looking down at the untidy--and very familiar--scrawl. Reading it through once, twice, in record time, he cocked his head in confusion a moment, and then looked up into Potter's green eyes--fearful green eyes. "Alone," he said softly.

Potter--Harry only nodded.

Draco glanced back down at the essay and handed it to Snape. "It looks fine, Professor," he said, looking back at Potter, who looked at him in surprise for a moment before adding fairy wings to his potion.

= = =

I told you I wouldn't hate you. I never hated you, Harry. Well, okay, maybe in first year, but that was so long ago, it doesn't even matter anymore. I love you, and you're not alone anymore.

Love

Draco Malfoy

= = =

Draco was angry.

Draco was pissed off.

Draco was ready to kill.

And Draco recognized the expression. It was the one he used around Potter--reserved for Potter, as a matter of fact. Frowning at the painting, he looked for the note he knew would be there.

You're not serious. Are you feeling okay? Even I, as much as I know about you, never saw anything but loathing in your eyes from the moment we met. I don't--I can't believe it... but I guess I do believe it, or else why would I be writing?

Love

Alo--Harry

= = =

I am serious. I love you, Harry Potter, and I want to see you at the Astronomy tower at midnight tonight.

Love

Draco

= = =

A soft look of surprise flitted across Draco's features, and seemed almost to melt away as the real Draco looked at that painting. Draco wondered how on earth Po--Harry had managed to get the subtly wider eyes and slight shrinking of his frown so that it barely looked like he was surprised at all. Amazing. Bloody amazing.

I'll be there.

= = =

Draco sat on the balcony railing, staring up at the stars. He felt eyes boring into his back, and he turned to see the invisibility cloak falling around Potter's feet. He wore Muggle clothing, and he looked good in it. Draco smiled a small, wolfish smirk. "Harry."

"Ma--Draco." Potter's voice was hesitant, as if afraid that Draco would suddenly tell him it was all a joke thought up by the Slytherins once they found out the their mysterious painter was Harry Freaking Potter.

"Come sit with me." Draco gestured to Harry, who sat nervously next to him. Draco looked at the thin boy--did he ever get anything to eat?--and found himself tracing a finger along his jaw line. Harry's green eyes met his, and Draco couldn't stand it any longer.

Harry's lips were like silk, soft and smooth against his own. Draco moved his lips against Harry's, forcing the other boy's mouth open. Harry moaned softly and pressed into the kiss--Draco tasted like vanilla.

"Draco..." Harry whispered. His eyes opened, and he smiled. He brought his hand out from behind his back--Draco hadn't even noticed he'd been hiding it.

A little bundle of lavender was tied with a purple ribbon, and Harry frowned at it.

Draco reached out and broke of a thin leaf, bringing it to his nose. At Harry's puzzled look, he explained, "The leaves are more fragrant than the flowers. There's lavender in our gardens at home."

Harry grinned in relief. "I didn't know."

Draco smiled wickedly. "You know, Potter, you're wicked sexy when you blush."

Harry blushed deeper at this remark, but met Draco's eyes. "Well, Malfoy," he shot back, "you're wicked sexy when you smirk."

Neither of them knew who instigated the next kiss, and neither of them cared.