A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry about the wait. First I had to take care of my mom because she had pneumonia, then I happened to get pneumonia, then I had to make up a mountain of homework in a very short period of time, then my space bar didn't work, then my semi-boyfriend (meaning we're much more than friends, but not quite... "serious." Actually, I have two semi-boyfriends, and one of them has an actual girlfriend. Agh. Life is confusing) insisted that we go and do something over the weekend. Not to mention the writer's block. I seriously thought my muse (or rather, the spirit that possesses me and types my stories) had gone and died on me or something. In any case, I finally sat down in front of the computer and, BAM, the muse took over again and I had chapter nineteen finished and ready to go.

Side note: I have read through both of my stories and have decided that I absolutely have to correct the embarrassing mistakes I've made. Yet another side note: The Whole Nine Yards is a hilarious movie. If I could somehow manage to combine a theme like that with the Harry Potter universe... perfect chaos.

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Chapter Nineteen

"Clear away this hate

And we can start to make it all right"

"Away," Breaking Benjamin

"I win again," Millicent announced, knocking Draco's king over on the chessboard.

"Well, don't think you're getting any better, Millie," Draco said, leaning back on the sofa. "I just have something on my mind."

"Yeah, I figured that," Millicent sighed.

"Why do you keep insisting that you play chess with me if you hate losing so much?"

Millicent grinned wryly. "Because I keep believing I'll actually learn something from you every time we play."

Draco laughed. "Well, like your actually winning a game against me some day, it's never going to happen."

"It might," Millicent protested, putting away the chessboard.

"No."

"You're a cocky bastard," Blaise announced, entering the common room.

"And you just found this out?" Millicent asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I'm just reminding myself. He's been acting so different lately."

"I know," Millicent agreed, nodding. "He actually held the door open for Professor McGonagall."

"And he helped a first year with his homework last night," Blaise added.

"Who did?" Pansy asked, coming through the portrait hole.

"Drake," Millicent replied.

"Really?" Pansy laughed. "What are the odds?"

"You'd have made an unbelievable amount of money if you had bet on his doing so."

"Hm, just as unbelievable as his helping the first year in the first place?"

Millicent snickered. "No, what's unbelievable is that he hasn't told us to shut up."

"Well, I can top that," Blaise declared, puffing out his chest and spreading out his arms with a dramatic air. "He actually said 'hello' to Harry Potter today without a single insult or jibe involved."

"Actually, Zabini, that's not much of a surprise," Pansy commented, smirking. Millicent giggled.

Draco finally spoke up. "You girls can decide how much you're going to tell him or if you're going to tell him at all." He rose to his feet. "But I'm not going to be here. Just remember that, even though I'm in a good mood right now, that doesn't mean I won't kill you." And with that, he exited the common room, then hurried out of the dungeons.

So now Blaise would know his secret. And Draco found that he didn't particularly care. In fact, he was somewhat... relieved, maybe even proud, that someone else knew about him and Harry. The only reason he had even bothered to threaten Millicent and Pansy was because he knew that Harry wasn't ready for everyone to know yet. Speaking of Harry...

Draco made an abrupt turn and hurried to the nearest staircase, ascending the steps two at a time. When he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, he cursed himself yet again for making the journey without knowing the password. But, just like last time, someone flung the portrait open. Only, this time it wasn't Thomas. "Granger," Draco said by way of greeting, nodding slightly.

Granger's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you here for?"

"Um... could I talk to"

"So, you just want to talk?"

That and possibly something else. "Yes."

Granger sighed and stepped away from the portrait. "Come in. You already know where his dorm is." At Draco's questioning look, Granger sighed. "Remember? A few days ago, Ron gave us a running commentary. Every seventh year Gryffindor that isn't Lavender or her sheep knows."

"Gryffindor?" Draco asked weakly, entering the common room.

"Nobody else. The second I heard Ron scream, I cast a silencing charm on the entire tower."

Draco regarded Granger for a few seconds, then said, "Thanks... Hermione."

"Anytime, Malfoy." She made to exit through the portrait hole. "Don't hurt him or I'll kill you." Then she left, shutting the portrait behind her quietly.

Draco was just started to race up the stairs to Harry's dorm when Thomas came barreling down. They narrowly avoiding a head on collision, with Draco smacking himself against the wall and Thomas clearing the last ten steps.

"Ron's asleep," Thomas said when he was on his feet again. "If you're going to do... anything... maybe you could cast a silencing charm and close the curtains this time."

"Where are you going?" Draco asked. What if Ron woke up? Finnegan and Longbottom wouldn't be much help.

"Um... er... that is..."

"Oh, just go andfind her already."

Thomas looked up at him in surprise. "You know?" Then he grinned. "She... she's actually going to meet me?"

"She let me in, Thomas. She's already gone to meet you."

Thomas didn't even bother to reply.

Draco stared at the portrait hole for a few moments. "Thomas and Granger." Draco shook his head. "Strange." Then he grinned. Those who knew of him and Harry probably thought that their relationship was very strange. He turned around and resumed his headlong sprint up the stairs. When he reached the door to Harry's dorm, he pushed it open slowly, braced for any hexes that might be sent in his direction. When none came, he slipped in quickly and shut the door. He made his way over to Harry's bed, then opened the curtains just enough for him to get in before closing them behind him.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

Draco literally jumped, making the bed squeak. He promptly took out his wand and muttered a silencing charm to prevent anysound from carrying past the bed. "You scared me."

"How the hell do you think I felt?" Harry asked, sitting up and running his hands back and forth through his hair.

"I thought you'd be asleep."

"I was asleep, thank you very much," Harry grumbled, leaning back against the headboard.

"Oh, um... sorry." Draco cleared his throat. "So, do you feel awake enough to... you know...?"

"How did you get in this time?" Harry asked, moving over a little so Draco would have more room on the bed.

"Hermione opened the portrait for me."

"Hermione? Since when does she help you?" Harry paused, then added, "Since when do you call her Hermione?"

"Um... since she let me in, actually. I suppose I should be a bit nicer to Dean and Seamus as well, considering they keptWeasley from killing me."

"Well, trust me, they're just as skeptical about you as you are about them. Actually, Dean and Hermione are skeptical. Seamus really does support the whole situation." He shrugged. "But, you know, Seamus is loony." Harry sighed. "And right now Ron is just completely avoiding anything to do with the subject so he doesn't kill somebody."

"Yeah, well, Weasley's an idiot."

"He's also my best friend, Malfoy, so watch it," Harry said wearily.

Draco sighed. "Sorry. We'll avoid all talk of friends and whether they approve or disapprove of us for the rest of the night."

"Thanks." Harry closed his eyes and exhaled. "It's hot in here tonight."

"Well, summer is just around the corner, you know," Draco replied. Summer meant the end of the deal. Or the beginning of something else. "We could always go down to my dorm."

Harry shook his head. "I'm too tired to move, let alone get up and go somewhere. Besides, the transition from this heat to the subzero temperature of the dungeons might kill me."

"All right, then." Draco stretched out on the bed. After a few minutes, he slipped out of his pajamas so they wouldn't stick to his body. "It really is hot up here."

"Told you so," Harry retorted.

Draco set his pajamas on the foot ofHarry' bed and flopped down next tohim again. "Those bed curtains really aren't helping matters."

"Well, they're staying closed."

"Yeah," Draco sighed.

After a few more minutes, Harry pushed the covers away.

"Silk?" Draco asked, eyeing the red boxers that Harry was wearing.

"Hm?" Harry asked, opening one eye. "Oh. Lavender bought them for me at Hogsmeade that one time. I wore them tonight because everything else is too hot."

"Ah."

"Too hot to talk?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. Maybe we should come up here more often."

"We wouldn't be able to have sex either."

"Oh. Right. Damn."

Draco grinned tiredly, feeling his eyelids droop. "We could have sex in my dorm, then come up here to sleep."

"Now that sounds like a plan," Harry murmured sleepily. "Besides, I sort of like that armchair..."

Draco knew Harry had fallen asleep because of his even breathing. He watched Harry for awhile, then drifted off to sleep himself.

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Draco awoke sometime later that night, noticing that he no longer felt like he was roasting; the heat had finally let up. He also realized that he'd wrapped himself up in Harry's sheets, and had moved so close to the edge of the bed that he was close to falling off. He rolled back over slowly to look at the other boy he was sharing the bed with. Harry had managed to kick all of the covers... with the exception of the sheet Draco had managed to snag for himself... to the very edge of the bed until they were crumpled up between the baseboard and the mattress. He looked completely... not innocent, but... unassuming. As if, even though he knew there was a crazy old Dark Lord out there somewhere that wanted him dead, he didn't really care; he just wanted to sleep, damnit. Draco smiled and snuggled closer to Harry, and his grin widened when Harry instinctively reached out to him.

Draco traced Harry's cheekbone with his index finger, then brushed his hair away from his forehead lightly. This was yet another reason why they couldn't leave each other after school was over; Draco had found that, after his first night of actually sleeping with Harry, he just couldn't sleep period without him by his side. It was somehow annoying and pleasing at the same time. Draco felt himself becoming drowsy again and he draped his arm across Harry's chest. Just as his eyelids closed and he drifted off, he felt both of Harry's arms wrap around him and draw him even closer.

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Draco woke up later in the morning, feeling like something was missing. Then he realized that Harry wasn't holding him anymore. He reached out and felt for the warm body that had been lying next to his, and when he touched empty air instead, his eyes snapped open. Harry was gone. And the atmosphere of the room told that him something was wrong. He sat up and made to spring from the bed when he realized he was only "wearing" a sheet. He looked around frantically for his clothes. Finding them, he put them on quickly and hurried out of the dorm, making his way down to the common room. When he reached the last stair, he froze abruptly.

Harry was sprawled out on the couch, still only in his boxers, looking completely drained of energy.

Draco approached him tentatively, not liking the empty expression on Harry's face. "Harry?" he said tentatively, wanting the other boy to at least open his eyes, acknowledge his presence.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, but they didn't focus on Draco. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling.

Draco frowned. "Harry?" He made his voice more assertive.

Harry finally looked at Draco, but his gaze was slightly unfocused. When Draco was about to ask him what was wrong, Harry laughed; a humorless bark that made Draco cringe slightly. Harry rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Guess who poked his head in through the bedcurtains to talk to me before school this morning?" he asked, his voice a dangerouscombination of depression, anger, and hysteria.

There was a slight slur to Harry's voice. "Have you taken any drugs?" Draco asked, looking around sharply for any telltale signs of drug use.

"I had a headache," Harry murmured. He smiled, but the smile seemed pasted on; impersonal and unnaturally fitted to his face.

"...And?" Draco asked warily.

"And Hermione gave me some Ibuprofen." Harry sighed. "They're not all that strong, though."

"That's it? Just Ibuprofen?" Draco suspected that Harry wasn't telling him everything.

"Well, like I said, they weren't all that strong, so I decided to try this," Harry said, holding up a small bottle of scotch. "Works like a charm. My temples are still pounding though," he added as an afterthought. "Guess I need more scotch. Or more Ibuprofen."

"Just Ibuprofen and scotch?"

"Yes, just Ibuprofen and scotch," Harry replied wearily. "What's your problem, anyway?"

"Nothing. So, you just had a headache?"

"Yeah. I had a headache."

"Weasley didn't have anything to do with causing that headache, did he?" Draco asked, already planning to confront Weasley as soon as he could.

Cold,hollow laughter escaped Harry's lips again, making Draco wince. "When he saw you with me, he didn't say anything. He just left the dorm. I followed him down here so I could talk to him, but he didn't want to hear anything I had to say. The next thing I knew, we were yelling at each other. We were just about to attack each other when Ginny rushed at us and pushed us apart." He laughed again, but this time there was a sob mixed in with the laughter. "Ron just stared at me for a few seconds, then left. Just left."

Draco felt his hands clenching into fists. He'd kill Weasley. Kill him.

"He was going to talk to me this morning about... about... this," he said lamely, waving his arm lazily between himself and Draco, "and he saw me lying there with you." He closed his eyes and swallowed several times before sitting up abruptly. "What the hell is wrong with him?" he shouted, throwing the bottle of scotch at the fireplace. He clutched his head in his hands, and his body shook with silent sobs.

Draco felt his nails dig into his hands hard enough to draw blood. Death was too good for Weasley. He reached out and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry jerked away, muttering something incoherently. Draco felt his heart wrench. He reached out for a second attempt, but this time Harry stood up pushed Draco away. "Stay the fuck away from me," he growled. He shoved past Draco roughly and made his way over to the portrait hole, pushing it open. There were two second years outside, and when they stared at Harry's lack of clothing, he glared at them. "What are you looking at?" he spat. When the two younger Gryffindors backed away, he snorted in disgust and took off in the other direction down the corridor.

Draco just stood frozen to the spot, watching Harry leave. When the second years crept into the common room cautiously, both of their expressions clearly saying, "A Slytherin doesn't belong here," he glared at them ferociously. He suddenly wanted to be anywhere but where he currently was, so he walked straight toward the second years and pushed them out of his way before exiting the common room.

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Draco decided he'd have to tell Blaise to find yet another better hiding place for all of his alcohol before he drowned himself in it. The moment he had entered his common room, he'd scared everyone away and taken every bottle of liquor off of a shelf hidden behind a painting... with the exception of scotch.; scotch was part of the problem... and consumed it within an hour. To say he was intoxicated was to say that the Atlantic Ocean was damp. Just thinking about the hangover he'd inevitably have made his stomach queasy and his head ache. "For the love of..." he interrupted himself with yet another swig of vodka, "God. Why the hell does he have to be so..." yet another gulp to help him find the word he was looking for, "...Golden Boyish?" Draco shook his head slightly, then decided he'd had quite enough alcohol. But he took another drink before setting the bottle down on the floor and rising to his feet clumsily. He decided he'd have to sleep on the couch when he couldn't remain standing for more than five seconds.

"Um, Draco?" Pansy's voice came from somewhere far away. Although, considering how much alcohol he had consumed, she could have very well been standing right next to him. "You didn't drink all of that alone, did you?"

Draco's response was to laugh in very much the same way Harry had earlier; disoriented, emotionless, broken. He could practically feel Pansy cringe at the sound.

"Are you going to sleep here tonight?"

"What do you think, Parkinson?" Draco asked, stretching his limbs as far as they would go.

"Right. Goodnight, then," Pansy said, exiting the common room. Her tone hadn't given away much, but Draco knew she was angry with him. Perfect. She'd probably start an argument the next morning when he was miserable with a terrible hangover. And she probably wouldn't even let him drink a hangover potion until they'd "talked."

Draco groaned and rolled over onto his side. None of this would have happened if Weasley hadn't been hit suddenly with the desire to "talk." He wouldn't have seen him with Harry, he wouldn't have hurt Harry's feelings, Harry wouldn't have gone into a state of depression... again... and Draco wouldn't have hurried down to the dungeons and saturated himself with alcohol. Draco felt himself laugh again, sure that he heard someone passing by shiver. Good, he wasn't the only one that found that laugh highly unpleasant. Particularly on Harry.

Harry. Draco knew he loved the Boy Who Lived. He would have liked to say he'd always loved him, but that wasn't the truth. Up until seventh year he had, in fact, genuinely hated Harry Potter. But the person that had said there is a very fine line between love and hate was absolutely correct. When Draco had proposed the deal, he had been thinking of Harry as a possibility. There was a good chance that Harry would turn him down, laugh in his face, and tell the whole school about it. But Draco somehow knew that Harry would accept. Because Harry felt the same way about Draco. At first, they had just fucked. A lot. Then they had started kissing or doing something that worked its way up to sex. Later on, they'd talk occasionally. Just conversation involving topics like school, Quidditch, weather... rather impersonal topics that allowed them to gather enough strength to get them back to where they had to go. Or have at it again.And then, the next thing Draco knew, he and Harry were actually talking about subjects that did strike a nerve. And what was surprising was the fact that both of them seemed to like it. Because, for some reason, Draco liked getting Harry riled up and disoriented. And Harry liked to do the same thing to Draco. Because they felt alive.

Alive. Right now, Draco felt like anything but alive. He felt cold. Not cold physically, but emotionally. Was this feeling a side effect to loving someone? Did Harry ever feel the same way about him? Ugh, the whole situation was driving Draco crazy. However, Draco had known from the moment he'd thought of Harry as someone he could actually stand to be with, to care for, that he was going down a very steep hill. One that would be very hard to climb back up. And then, when he'd admitted to himself that he actually loved Harry... he'd officially reached the point of no return. There was no going back now. And Draco knew this because he was currently trying to convince himself that he did not love Harry Potter. And he was failing miserably. Sure, he could lie to himself while he was awake. Or rather, he could lie to everybody else. But when he was asleep... unfortunately, his subconscious was painfully honest. And even more unfortunate was the fact that he was currently drifting off to sleep...

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Draco refused to even glance at the mess that he'd made in the bathroom stall. He simply flushed the toilet, pushed himself up onto his feet, and hurried out of the room before he threw up yet again. He stood outside the bathroom for a few seconds with his back pressed against the wall, breathing deeply to calm his stomach. When the nausea subsided, he clamped his hands on his head and groaned, making his way to the common room so he could drink the hangover potion that Blaise had waiting for him. Upon reaching the common room, he more or less charged Blaise, ripped the potion out of his hands, and swallowed the whole bitter-tasting concoction in two very large gulps.

"You left the scotch," Blaise commented, shaking a bottle of half-empty scotch. Draco nodded. Blaise snorted. "Yeah, thanks for that."

Draco shrugged. "You need to find a better hiding place for your alcohol," he said, flopping down on the couch. He could already feel the potion working and he sighed in relief. That had to have been the worst hangover he'd ever experienced in his entire life.

"But you already know all of the possible hiding places," Blaise complained. "It's a pain in the ass."

"Use your imagination." Draco closed his eyes and breathed evenly, helping the potion calm down his stomach.

"You're in a bitchy mood this morning," Blaise commented.

"I have a hangover, Blaise."

"You're no fun this morning. I'm going to go hide the muffin that Goyle put under his pillow last night."

"At least you can still hide stuff from Crabbe and Goyle."

"Yeah, well, they're idiots. Hiding stuff from them sort of loses its appeal after awhile." Blaise left the common room to go find Goyle's muffin.

Draco shook his head. "Insanity," he muttered. He was just about to drift off to sleep when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He opened his eyes to find Pansy looming over him, her hands on her hips. "...Yeah?" he asked warily, not liking the expression on her face.

"I told you we were going to talk, Malfoy. Just consider yourself lucky that I had the decency to wait until your potion kicked in."

Draco shuddered. "Thanks for that." When Pansy remained silent, he rolled his eyes. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

"What the hell happened last night?"

Draco grimaced. "I drank far too much alcohol." He didn't really feel like talking about his relationship problems at the moment.

"Yes, I know. But what made you drink that much alcohol?"

"None of your damned business, Pansy," Draco snapped. Seeing Pansy's hurt expression, Draco sighed. "Look, I just don't want to talk about it right now, okay? Maybe later." He stood up and left the common room. He needed to think, and he couldn't very well go up to the roof of the Astronomy Tower while there were classes being taught. So he settled for making his way up to the second floor; for some reason, the higher up he got, the easier it was for him to sort out his mind. Harry had once said that the higher up he got, the more distanced he felt from his problems and worries; he could look at them clearly and objectively. Draco found that this explanation worked for him as well; the greater the distance between him and the ground, the easier it was for him to sort things out.

Draco decided on an empty corridor with plenty of windows and wandered aimlessly along the cold stone floor, ignoring the portraits that attempted to talk to him. After about a half an hour had passed by, he wasn't exactly feelingbetter, but he had more or less "set aside" his depression so he could deal with it later.

However, it all came rushing back when he walked smack into Harry. "What are you doing here?" he asked, cursing himself when his voice cracked slightly.

"Avoiding people," Harry replied, rubbing at his ribs. "Must you always walk so fast?"

"I don't walk fast. You're legs are just shorter than everyone else's so you walk more slowly."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Sure, rub it in." He was about to pass by, but Draco reached out and stopped him. "Yeah?"

Draco swallowed. "Um... sorry...?"

"It's not really exactly your fault, Malfoy," Harry said. He sighed. "I'm sorry for making you feel like it was, though." He grinned ruefully. "I sort of lost it. Everyone thought I had snapped or something." He laughed sadly. "Even Ron was worried."

"So you made up, then?" Draco asked.

"To a certain extent," Harry replied slowly. "We're sort of on shaky ground right now. I mean, Hermione's not leaving us alone anymore."

"Mediator?"

"Kind of. She's also more or less directing the conversation so we don't stray toward any... uncomfortable topics." Harry shrugged. "I don't mind. I would like to just get it over with, though."

"Well, as much as I hate to admit it, Hermione usually is right." Draco winced. "The minute she leaves you alone with Ron, start talking."

Harry laughed quietly. "I know."

An awkward silence stretched out between the two of them. After awhile, Harry made to walk away. "Well..."

Draco didn't want Harry to leave. He wanted to somehow convey what he was feeling. He reached out and clasped Harry's arm. When Harry turned to look at him quizzically, Draco realized he couldn't tell him just yet without scaring the living daylights out of him. He sighed. "See you around," he said instead.

Harry shrugged. "Um... yeah. See you." And with that, he disappeared around the corner.

Draco closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, inhaling deeply. Everything was getting more confusing by the minute. His mind was working furiously to keep up on things. Draco shook his head. "Please, God, if you really do exist..."

And Draco found he didn't want to finish his plea; what if God didn't exist? What if there was no one to hear what he had to say? He didn't think he could take that big of a let down. But he knew that, deep down, Harry felt the same way, wanted the same things that he did. Because, silently, Harry was screaming. Slowly, just like Draco, Harry was dying inside.

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A/N: And that is the end of chapter nineteen. Damnit, why does my muse have to love angst so much? Then again, if you look at Running To Stand Still, that's more of a comedy... ah well. So far my muse seems to be doing the right thing, because you've been reading my story. All I know is that when I read this through, it drove me insane. Now, there are still a couple more chapters CONTAINING ANGST, and then the story will let up. The next chapter is in Harry's perspective, and the chapter after that will be in Draco's. And then Harry's, and then Draco's, and then Harry's... and then the epilogue, which will be in the universal style. That's right, only five more chapters (six, if you include the epilogue)! Oh yeah, I just wanted to let you know (again), that I will be posting chapter eight of Running To Stand Still as soon as this story's over. And after R.T.S.S. is over, I'll be rewriting and reposting Hogwarts: An Alternate Reality, with more detail, and much longer chapters. I also have two more Draco/Harry stories, a Harry/Oliver fic, and a Harry/Lucius fic (as I said in a previous chapter, I don't particularly care for this particular ship, but I love the angsty quality this story will bring). I'm also considering writing a story that combines the plot line from The Whole Nine Yards with the Harry Potter universe (as mentioned in author's note at beginning of chapter). I'm not sure what the main ships will be yet, though... any ideas? Let me know when you review (please)! Side note: weren't those author's notes long?