Author's Note: Ok, everyone hates Seamus, I get it, and you're all probably going to hate me for the small kiss in this chapter, but I swear, you'll love the way I have planned to get rid of him. Hopefully, anyways. Plus, if they broke up now, so soon, Harry would always wonder if he should have tried harder. Anyways, my characters keep getting further and further from cannon, sorry. Also, as everyone wants a happy ending, I'll try to write a good one, though the end is not currently in sight. THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED! I was going to do personal thanks, but it always bothers me when the chapter looks so much longer than it actually is.
Everything they'd brought was packed, transported back to Hogwarts by house elf magic. They'd been informed that the carriages would leave with or without them at five, and no one fancied a walk all the way back to the school.
Draco figured it would be a bad idea for him to inform them of the fact that he could just Apparate to the outskirts of the school grounds and walk in, seeing as it was still illegal. Training wasn't until spring, and he hadn't been formally trained.
He'd been wandering, having finally lost Crabbe and Goyle, idly searching for Pansy or Blaise when, for no apparent reason at all, Quentin began hissing and tugging at his cloak. "All right, all right, I'm coming," he said uselessly, knowing the Snargon didn't understand English any more than he understood snake.
Quentin led him to an alley, hissing happily as Miri flew over.
He looked down the alley, and froze. Finnigan was saying softly, "I'm sorry," and then he gently kissed none other than Harry Potter. Draco couldn't believe how much it hurt to see them together, how much it hurt to see the Irish boy's shy smile as he pulled away. Apparently, he thought bitterly, I fancy Potter.
Harry looked at Seamus guardedly. True, they'd basically just made up, and he'd just gotten his first kiss (he'd decided not to count the one with Cho, as frankly, it sucked), but he couldn't believe it was that easy. He smiled at Seamus, knowing it was expected of him, but the smile never quite reached his eyes.
"Do you want to look around?" his boyfriend asked.
"You can go on without me, I'll be there in a bit," Harry replied. He was supposed to meet Draco sometime, and he wanted some time to think.
Seamus nodded and grinned as he said happily, "See you soon, then," and then walked back out to the street.
Draco, who'd heard the conversation, moved quickly around the corner, Finnigan never noticing him. He waited a few minutes before walking off, lost in thought.
Harry sat in the common room, boredly staring at the Transfiguration notes Hermione had given him. He'd already tried Ron's, and couldn't read them. He seriously doubted Ron could even read them.
Sighing, he gave up. There was no way he was going to get anywhere when he was so distracted, and there was only one thing on his mind right now – Draco. Miri promised she'd talked to Quentin, who'd happily agreed, but as it was now – Harry checked the clock – after nine, he figured the other boy wasn't going to show.
Fine, he decided. I'll just have to find him then. Faking a yawn in case anyone was paying attention (they weren't), he went up to his room and grabbed the Marauder's Map and his invisibility cloak, then snuck back down the stairs.
Finally someone entered through the portrait hole, and he crept out, barely avoiding being hit. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he whispered, and suddenly the blank parchment was filled with labeled dots. Now, to find Draco's.
Draco sat in the potions classroom, watching Snape grade first year papers. He wasn't so much grading them as practicing his calligraphy, namely the letter F. "Sev-" he began, then fell silent.
"If this is about Potter, it had better be that he's dead!" Snape growled. "Honestly, Draco, just because you kept him from killing himself doesn't mean you need to be his best friend!"
Draco, who'd already sunk back into his brooding, snapped, "You know, you're rather intolerant for someone who keeps dirty pictures of the Gryffindor Head of House."
"Wh-what?" the Professor sputtered weakly. "There was just the one I'll have you know, and, and, and why did Potter tell you?" Another thought occurring to him, he asked worriedly, "And who else did he tell?" Rubbing his temples, Snape muttered, "Bloody hell, Minerva is going to kill me."
Draco snickered for a second, and then fell back into his thoughts. "But really, Sev, he-"
"Fine," Snape sighed. "We'll talk about Potter, then."
Glaring, Draco asked haughtily, "May I continue?" Snape nodded resignedly, and Draco said, "I found him last night, and he ended up crying on my shoulder."
"How wonderful for you," came the sarcastic reply.
Draco pounded a fist down on the table, surprising himself as much as his adoptive father. "Be quiet and take this seriously, Sev! I of all people should know what it's like to want to kill yourself-"
Snape's eyes filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry about that; sorry I didn't catch you sooner." The image of Draco lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood still haunted him.
Softly Draco answered, "I know that, Sev, of course I know that. And I know that I saw the same look in Harry's eyes that I used to see reflecting back at me from the mirror."
Snape winced as Draco said Harry instead of Potter, but motioned for his godson to continue.
"This morning too, something was wrong, he was fighting with that Granger know-it-all. I – we could all hear him shouting clear across the Hall. If you're going to do something, it had better be soon, because it's not just the spell. You know as well as I that part of him wanted it."
"I'll speak with Dumbledore," Snape conceded, "and if nothing's changed within a week's time, we'll have an," he looked rather annoyed, "intervention."
"He's not his father, you know," Draco said quietly. "No more than I am mine. Goodnight Sev." Draco stood and walked out of the room, his thoughts no clearer than they'd been before.
Harry watched the map intently, looking up in surprise when Draco's dot passed his own.
Draco turned as Quentin began hissing. He'd listened to enough of the Snargons' conversations to guess that his fire-lizard was happy.
Hissing a greeting in reply to Quentin, Harry smiled as Draco jumped. He pulled off the invisibility cloak and nodded calmly to the blonde, who was now staring in shock.
"Where did you get that?" Draco asked reverently. He'd always wanted one, his father had even wanted one, but they were rare, not to mention expensive.
"It was my father's," Harry replied, turning to look at Quentin. You could see me the whole time?
Of course. Why were you wearing that thing over your head? the Snargon asked.
Draco groaned inwardly. Of all times, why did he have to be tortured with Parseltongue now? He was too tired to come up with a good excuse for his strange fixation, and already he could feel himself reacting to the sound. He closed his eyes, not paying any attention to his surroundings until he heard a shouted, "Malfoy!"
Opening one eye, he asked lazily, "So we've gone back to last names now?"
"Well, you weren't answering to Draco," Harry huffed. "Anyways, I was wondering if you minded if Quentin stayed with me tonight, he wants to see Miri. You can come up for a bit if you'd like."
"Yes, I'm sure they won't notice me walking into Gryffindor Tower after curfew, no, not at all," Draco said sarcastically.
"Here," Harry held out the invisibility cloak. "I want to talk to you anyway, we can go pick up Miri and go somewhere else."
"You trust me with this thing? Do you know how much this is worth?" Draco asked, reaching out to run a hand across the silky material.
"Sure, why not, hurry up," Harry answered impatiently. He was watching Filch's dot (marked in red, Hermione had adjusted it last year), and it was getting closer.
Doubting he'd ever have the chance to use one again, Draco wrapped himself in the invisibility cloak. He walked over to Harry and messed up his hair, then tapped him on the back, crowing happily, "You can't see me, you can't see me."
Green eyes dancing with laughter at the childish action, Harry replied, "No, but I can hear you, and leave my hair alone you prat. Come on, this way."
"I'm not a prat," Draco retorted indignantly, following Harry.
"They already think I'm crazy for this morning, and talking to people who aren't there would make it worse, so be quiet."
Draco muttered something under his breath and obeyed, walking silently until Harry suddenly stopped at the portrait of the Fat Lady.
Bending in low to whisper the password ("Do you really think I want to break into Gryffindork territory?"), Harry stepped back as the painting swung open to allow them inside.
Ron looked up in surprise, and greeted, "Hey mate, thought you went to bed. Who's that?" he asked, motioning towards Quentin.
"This is Quentin," Harry answered.
Before he could ask where Miri was, Hermione, who'd been watching silently, asked, "Isn't Quentin Malfoy's Snargon?"
"Yeah," the brunette replied, pretending not to hear the sarcastically whispered, "Brilliant girl," or feel the warm breath brushing past his ear. "He was coming to find me, wanted to see Miri. Have you seen her?"
Still looking doubtful, Hermione replied, "She's with Matt and Kerri, over there," pointing towards the fire where three Snargons lay curled up.
"Oh, your boyfriend says goodnight," Ron told him.
Harry's cheeks burned, making Hermione even more suspicious. "Everyone here already knows you're dating Seamus, Harry."
"I know, still just not used to it I guess," Harry replied quickly, hoping that Draco had suddenly gone deaf, or, more likely, didn't find the conversation interesting and had stopped listening after they walked in. "Well, goodnight, I'll be going then," he walked out the portrait hole, Miri, Quentin and an invisible Draco following behind.
"Wait, Harry! You forgot your," the portrait fell shut, "invisibility cloak," Ron finished. Looking worriedly at Hermione, Ron asked, "He'll be okay, right?"
Hermione nodded distractedly; almost positive she knew where the invisibility cloak was. Walking down the hall next to Harry, concealing a certain blonde haired, sliver eyed, aristocratic Slytherin. "He'll be fine."
"So, you're dating the Irish git?" Draco asked, thankful for his skill in keeping his voice even and unreadable.
"Yeah, since Friday," Harry sighed, not even bothering to defend Seamus. He was still a little miffed over his boyfriend's reaction to Parseltongue. "Are you okay with that?"
Draco looked over in surprise, wondering how the hell Harry had found out about his crush when he'd only discovered it earlier that day, before realizing he was talking about being gay. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, the wizarding world certainly isn't as biased as the Muggle one, but it still makes some straight wizards uncomfortable," Harry responded, relief washing through him.
"Who said I'm straight?" Draco smirked.
"Yeah, right," Harry laughed. He paused for a second as Draco directed him down another hall. "You, gay. Not with the stories I've heard."
Coming to the portrait leading into his room, Draco said the password, "Gryffindork," and looked at Harry expectantly.
"How original," Harry muttered dryly, walking into the room, and then stopping to stare in wonder. He'd expected the usual Slytherin green and silver, which there was, but not the colorful dragons chasing each other across the ceiling, or the lush carpeting and beautiful black sofa. A fire burned cheerfully in the ornate fireplace, and still (as in not moving) drawings lined the room. "Wow."
Draco, looking rather shy, said quietly, "Most of it came from the Manor, after Father died. Dumbledore enchanted the ceiling." Going back to the previous conversation, he asked, "And why must I be straight?"
Sprawling out on the ground near the fire, Harry answered, "You're considered the Slytherin sex-god by even the Gryffindor girls, and the things I've heard, well . . . you can't be gay."
"Bi, actually," Draco replied, taking a seat. "One of the only traits Father encouraged."
Harry, realizing he was serious, tried to mask his surprise by asking the first thing that came to mind. "Why?"
"'The more people you entice, the more you hold under your power,'" Draco quoted, eyes holding a trace of sadness. "Everything was about power for him, even my mother." Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, Draco asked, "What did you want to talk to me about?"
"Last night," Harry looked down. "Thank you, you didn't have to do that."
"Your friends have done it, I'm sure," the blonde replied, looking up to where Miri was trying to play with the dragons while Quentin watched.
"They haven't," the green eyed boy told him, eyes following his. "Are we friends?"
Deciding to avoid the question, Draco repeated incredulously, "They haven't?"
"Well, they don't like me to cry," Harry tried to explain. "I don't particularly like to cry, either, but it scares them. 'A weakness in their only hope' Remus told me. I don't think they really know what to do."
Draco's respect for the savior of the wizarding world grew. He didn't know what he'd do without Sev and Blaise, and to some degree, Pansy. "Well, don't mention it." Thinking for a second, he added, "Seriously, it's probably best if you don't, Bulstrode will kill me if she thinks I'm a bloody Pheonix."
"Are we friends?" Harry repeated, yawning. He laid his head down on his arms, looking up at Draco. After a few seconds of silence, he made to stand, figuring he wasn't going to get a reply.
"I don't know," Draco finally answered. "Are we?"
"I suppose we might be," Harry answered, moving to sit on the opposite side of the sofa as Draco. He lay on his back, head resting on the armrest, so he could watch Miri.
Draco rolled his eyes and moved over, giving the other boy more room. "How do you tell?"
"How do you?" Harry asked, not taking his eyes away from the Snargons. He laughed as Quentin tried to explain to Miri that the dragons weren't real.
Draco lay back, mimicking Harry's position so he could watch Quentin. "The friends I have are people I grew up with. It was never a question."
"That would be nice, to have grown up with friends," Harry said sleepily.
"You didn't?"
"Ron was my first friend. In fact – no wait, it was you that was the first person my own age to speak civilly to me." Grinning he added, "Even if I had no clue what you were talking about."
Having gotten lost somewhere along the line, Draco answered, "Someday you have to tell me what you're talking about."
"Hmm," Harry agreed, half-asleep.
"Harry? Harry? Potter, wake up." Rolling his eyes, Draco informed the sleeping boy, "Well, I'm not carrying you anywhere. You're just going to have to stay there." Harry made no comment, so Draco walked through another door, changing into a pair of silk pajama bottoms.
He lay in bed with the curtains open, for the first time in months falling asleep almost instantly.
Author's Note: Ok, reactions, ideas, anything is welcome, as long as it isn't a random flame. If there's a good reason for a flame (aka NOT homosexuality) then go ahead. And I swear, the end of Seamus is in sight! Review!
Everything they'd brought was packed, transported back to Hogwarts by house elf magic. They'd been informed that the carriages would leave with or without them at five, and no one fancied a walk all the way back to the school.
Draco figured it would be a bad idea for him to inform them of the fact that he could just Apparate to the outskirts of the school grounds and walk in, seeing as it was still illegal. Training wasn't until spring, and he hadn't been formally trained.
He'd been wandering, having finally lost Crabbe and Goyle, idly searching for Pansy or Blaise when, for no apparent reason at all, Quentin began hissing and tugging at his cloak. "All right, all right, I'm coming," he said uselessly, knowing the Snargon didn't understand English any more than he understood snake.
Quentin led him to an alley, hissing happily as Miri flew over.
He looked down the alley, and froze. Finnigan was saying softly, "I'm sorry," and then he gently kissed none other than Harry Potter. Draco couldn't believe how much it hurt to see them together, how much it hurt to see the Irish boy's shy smile as he pulled away. Apparently, he thought bitterly, I fancy Potter.
Harry looked at Seamus guardedly. True, they'd basically just made up, and he'd just gotten his first kiss (he'd decided not to count the one with Cho, as frankly, it sucked), but he couldn't believe it was that easy. He smiled at Seamus, knowing it was expected of him, but the smile never quite reached his eyes.
"Do you want to look around?" his boyfriend asked.
"You can go on without me, I'll be there in a bit," Harry replied. He was supposed to meet Draco sometime, and he wanted some time to think.
Seamus nodded and grinned as he said happily, "See you soon, then," and then walked back out to the street.
Draco, who'd heard the conversation, moved quickly around the corner, Finnigan never noticing him. He waited a few minutes before walking off, lost in thought.
Harry sat in the common room, boredly staring at the Transfiguration notes Hermione had given him. He'd already tried Ron's, and couldn't read them. He seriously doubted Ron could even read them.
Sighing, he gave up. There was no way he was going to get anywhere when he was so distracted, and there was only one thing on his mind right now – Draco. Miri promised she'd talked to Quentin, who'd happily agreed, but as it was now – Harry checked the clock – after nine, he figured the other boy wasn't going to show.
Fine, he decided. I'll just have to find him then. Faking a yawn in case anyone was paying attention (they weren't), he went up to his room and grabbed the Marauder's Map and his invisibility cloak, then snuck back down the stairs.
Finally someone entered through the portrait hole, and he crept out, barely avoiding being hit. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he whispered, and suddenly the blank parchment was filled with labeled dots. Now, to find Draco's.
Draco sat in the potions classroom, watching Snape grade first year papers. He wasn't so much grading them as practicing his calligraphy, namely the letter F. "Sev-" he began, then fell silent.
"If this is about Potter, it had better be that he's dead!" Snape growled. "Honestly, Draco, just because you kept him from killing himself doesn't mean you need to be his best friend!"
Draco, who'd already sunk back into his brooding, snapped, "You know, you're rather intolerant for someone who keeps dirty pictures of the Gryffindor Head of House."
"Wh-what?" the Professor sputtered weakly. "There was just the one I'll have you know, and, and, and why did Potter tell you?" Another thought occurring to him, he asked worriedly, "And who else did he tell?" Rubbing his temples, Snape muttered, "Bloody hell, Minerva is going to kill me."
Draco snickered for a second, and then fell back into his thoughts. "But really, Sev, he-"
"Fine," Snape sighed. "We'll talk about Potter, then."
Glaring, Draco asked haughtily, "May I continue?" Snape nodded resignedly, and Draco said, "I found him last night, and he ended up crying on my shoulder."
"How wonderful for you," came the sarcastic reply.
Draco pounded a fist down on the table, surprising himself as much as his adoptive father. "Be quiet and take this seriously, Sev! I of all people should know what it's like to want to kill yourself-"
Snape's eyes filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry about that; sorry I didn't catch you sooner." The image of Draco lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood still haunted him.
Softly Draco answered, "I know that, Sev, of course I know that. And I know that I saw the same look in Harry's eyes that I used to see reflecting back at me from the mirror."
Snape winced as Draco said Harry instead of Potter, but motioned for his godson to continue.
"This morning too, something was wrong, he was fighting with that Granger know-it-all. I – we could all hear him shouting clear across the Hall. If you're going to do something, it had better be soon, because it's not just the spell. You know as well as I that part of him wanted it."
"I'll speak with Dumbledore," Snape conceded, "and if nothing's changed within a week's time, we'll have an," he looked rather annoyed, "intervention."
"He's not his father, you know," Draco said quietly. "No more than I am mine. Goodnight Sev." Draco stood and walked out of the room, his thoughts no clearer than they'd been before.
Harry watched the map intently, looking up in surprise when Draco's dot passed his own.
Draco turned as Quentin began hissing. He'd listened to enough of the Snargons' conversations to guess that his fire-lizard was happy.
Hissing a greeting in reply to Quentin, Harry smiled as Draco jumped. He pulled off the invisibility cloak and nodded calmly to the blonde, who was now staring in shock.
"Where did you get that?" Draco asked reverently. He'd always wanted one, his father had even wanted one, but they were rare, not to mention expensive.
"It was my father's," Harry replied, turning to look at Quentin. You could see me the whole time?
Of course. Why were you wearing that thing over your head? the Snargon asked.
Draco groaned inwardly. Of all times, why did he have to be tortured with Parseltongue now? He was too tired to come up with a good excuse for his strange fixation, and already he could feel himself reacting to the sound. He closed his eyes, not paying any attention to his surroundings until he heard a shouted, "Malfoy!"
Opening one eye, he asked lazily, "So we've gone back to last names now?"
"Well, you weren't answering to Draco," Harry huffed. "Anyways, I was wondering if you minded if Quentin stayed with me tonight, he wants to see Miri. You can come up for a bit if you'd like."
"Yes, I'm sure they won't notice me walking into Gryffindor Tower after curfew, no, not at all," Draco said sarcastically.
"Here," Harry held out the invisibility cloak. "I want to talk to you anyway, we can go pick up Miri and go somewhere else."
"You trust me with this thing? Do you know how much this is worth?" Draco asked, reaching out to run a hand across the silky material.
"Sure, why not, hurry up," Harry answered impatiently. He was watching Filch's dot (marked in red, Hermione had adjusted it last year), and it was getting closer.
Doubting he'd ever have the chance to use one again, Draco wrapped himself in the invisibility cloak. He walked over to Harry and messed up his hair, then tapped him on the back, crowing happily, "You can't see me, you can't see me."
Green eyes dancing with laughter at the childish action, Harry replied, "No, but I can hear you, and leave my hair alone you prat. Come on, this way."
"I'm not a prat," Draco retorted indignantly, following Harry.
"They already think I'm crazy for this morning, and talking to people who aren't there would make it worse, so be quiet."
Draco muttered something under his breath and obeyed, walking silently until Harry suddenly stopped at the portrait of the Fat Lady.
Bending in low to whisper the password ("Do you really think I want to break into Gryffindork territory?"), Harry stepped back as the painting swung open to allow them inside.
Ron looked up in surprise, and greeted, "Hey mate, thought you went to bed. Who's that?" he asked, motioning towards Quentin.
"This is Quentin," Harry answered.
Before he could ask where Miri was, Hermione, who'd been watching silently, asked, "Isn't Quentin Malfoy's Snargon?"
"Yeah," the brunette replied, pretending not to hear the sarcastically whispered, "Brilliant girl," or feel the warm breath brushing past his ear. "He was coming to find me, wanted to see Miri. Have you seen her?"
Still looking doubtful, Hermione replied, "She's with Matt and Kerri, over there," pointing towards the fire where three Snargons lay curled up.
"Oh, your boyfriend says goodnight," Ron told him.
Harry's cheeks burned, making Hermione even more suspicious. "Everyone here already knows you're dating Seamus, Harry."
"I know, still just not used to it I guess," Harry replied quickly, hoping that Draco had suddenly gone deaf, or, more likely, didn't find the conversation interesting and had stopped listening after they walked in. "Well, goodnight, I'll be going then," he walked out the portrait hole, Miri, Quentin and an invisible Draco following behind.
"Wait, Harry! You forgot your," the portrait fell shut, "invisibility cloak," Ron finished. Looking worriedly at Hermione, Ron asked, "He'll be okay, right?"
Hermione nodded distractedly; almost positive she knew where the invisibility cloak was. Walking down the hall next to Harry, concealing a certain blonde haired, sliver eyed, aristocratic Slytherin. "He'll be fine."
"So, you're dating the Irish git?" Draco asked, thankful for his skill in keeping his voice even and unreadable.
"Yeah, since Friday," Harry sighed, not even bothering to defend Seamus. He was still a little miffed over his boyfriend's reaction to Parseltongue. "Are you okay with that?"
Draco looked over in surprise, wondering how the hell Harry had found out about his crush when he'd only discovered it earlier that day, before realizing he was talking about being gay. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, the wizarding world certainly isn't as biased as the Muggle one, but it still makes some straight wizards uncomfortable," Harry responded, relief washing through him.
"Who said I'm straight?" Draco smirked.
"Yeah, right," Harry laughed. He paused for a second as Draco directed him down another hall. "You, gay. Not with the stories I've heard."
Coming to the portrait leading into his room, Draco said the password, "Gryffindork," and looked at Harry expectantly.
"How original," Harry muttered dryly, walking into the room, and then stopping to stare in wonder. He'd expected the usual Slytherin green and silver, which there was, but not the colorful dragons chasing each other across the ceiling, or the lush carpeting and beautiful black sofa. A fire burned cheerfully in the ornate fireplace, and still (as in not moving) drawings lined the room. "Wow."
Draco, looking rather shy, said quietly, "Most of it came from the Manor, after Father died. Dumbledore enchanted the ceiling." Going back to the previous conversation, he asked, "And why must I be straight?"
Sprawling out on the ground near the fire, Harry answered, "You're considered the Slytherin sex-god by even the Gryffindor girls, and the things I've heard, well . . . you can't be gay."
"Bi, actually," Draco replied, taking a seat. "One of the only traits Father encouraged."
Harry, realizing he was serious, tried to mask his surprise by asking the first thing that came to mind. "Why?"
"'The more people you entice, the more you hold under your power,'" Draco quoted, eyes holding a trace of sadness. "Everything was about power for him, even my mother." Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, Draco asked, "What did you want to talk to me about?"
"Last night," Harry looked down. "Thank you, you didn't have to do that."
"Your friends have done it, I'm sure," the blonde replied, looking up to where Miri was trying to play with the dragons while Quentin watched.
"They haven't," the green eyed boy told him, eyes following his. "Are we friends?"
Deciding to avoid the question, Draco repeated incredulously, "They haven't?"
"Well, they don't like me to cry," Harry tried to explain. "I don't particularly like to cry, either, but it scares them. 'A weakness in their only hope' Remus told me. I don't think they really know what to do."
Draco's respect for the savior of the wizarding world grew. He didn't know what he'd do without Sev and Blaise, and to some degree, Pansy. "Well, don't mention it." Thinking for a second, he added, "Seriously, it's probably best if you don't, Bulstrode will kill me if she thinks I'm a bloody Pheonix."
"Are we friends?" Harry repeated, yawning. He laid his head down on his arms, looking up at Draco. After a few seconds of silence, he made to stand, figuring he wasn't going to get a reply.
"I don't know," Draco finally answered. "Are we?"
"I suppose we might be," Harry answered, moving to sit on the opposite side of the sofa as Draco. He lay on his back, head resting on the armrest, so he could watch Miri.
Draco rolled his eyes and moved over, giving the other boy more room. "How do you tell?"
"How do you?" Harry asked, not taking his eyes away from the Snargons. He laughed as Quentin tried to explain to Miri that the dragons weren't real.
Draco lay back, mimicking Harry's position so he could watch Quentin. "The friends I have are people I grew up with. It was never a question."
"That would be nice, to have grown up with friends," Harry said sleepily.
"You didn't?"
"Ron was my first friend. In fact – no wait, it was you that was the first person my own age to speak civilly to me." Grinning he added, "Even if I had no clue what you were talking about."
Having gotten lost somewhere along the line, Draco answered, "Someday you have to tell me what you're talking about."
"Hmm," Harry agreed, half-asleep.
"Harry? Harry? Potter, wake up." Rolling his eyes, Draco informed the sleeping boy, "Well, I'm not carrying you anywhere. You're just going to have to stay there." Harry made no comment, so Draco walked through another door, changing into a pair of silk pajama bottoms.
He lay in bed with the curtains open, for the first time in months falling asleep almost instantly.
Author's Note: Ok, reactions, ideas, anything is welcome, as long as it isn't a random flame. If there's a good reason for a flame (aka NOT homosexuality) then go ahead. And I swear, the end of Seamus is in sight! Review!