Harry yawned sleepily and stretched in his bed, rolling onto his side and reaching out to pick up his glasses from his bedside table as he always had done. His hand patted at the surface for a few moments before he found them, and he felt the cold sensation of the smooth polished wood greet his fingers pleasantly. He groaned happily as he rolled onto his back, feeling more rested than he could ever remember, and slipped them on. Harry frowned slightly as his glasses; they felt different, strange even, almost like they didn't belong there. He shrugged off that thought and stretched again, slapping his lips together after he yawned and cracked open his eyes.

Everything was blurry, even as he sat up and peered around, it stayed the same, and soon his eyes began to hurt. He frowned and took them off to wipe them, holding them up to his eye to look for any smudges he'd missed, before stopping stony still in shock.

He could see perfectly well…

Slowly, almost as though scared that any sudden movements would ruin this small miracle, he put his glasses back down on the table and peered around. Everything was so… vivid! It was like he'd been looking at the tiniest proportion of the world and now he was looking through a colourful kaleidoscope. The sunlight was so golden, the floor so shiny, the books so old, the portraits so full of life it was unbelievable. Without knowing he had done it his mouth has cracked open a little in awe, and he'd begun swinging his legs over the side of the bed and padding across the floor, his feet suddenly very sensitive to the cold.

He shuddered and smiled with the joy of it all as he began running his fingers over the potions on the windowsill that were casting different coloured lights on the opposite wall. He brushed the wall as he passed, feeling every grain and particle in his touch and his smile grew. Had anyone been watching they would have melted under that smile, but Harry wasn't to know that…

Yet.

He was so lost in the sudden beauty the world held, that for the first time in his life he forgot about all of the suffering he had seen. He forgot about his parents, Cedric, Sirius, Ron, hell he even forgot about Voldemort. For some reason the world was so wonderful Voldemort suddenly that he didn't see any need to look at the bad things in life, because everything was so beautiful that it should be cherished, not ignored.

He had almost reached the door handle before he faltered as he looked down at himself. He was just wearing a pair of flannel pyjamas, and however much he wanted to, he knew that it wouldn't do too well to go wondering throughout the school without some proper clothes on. He smiled with the thought, well, it would be interesting whether it was embarrassing or not, he briefly wondered what Snape would think. He chuckled quietly to himself as he made his way back to his bed. Had anyone else heard they would have sworn that laughter was like liquid gold pouring from the heavens, silky and smooth, laced with mirth and happiness.

Out in the grounds Draco shuddered and stopped in his tracks, wondering where such a strange sensation had come from. Oh well, he thought, it's just someone walking over my grave in the future, before he frowned and went back to his smooth pace. But the nagging feeling hadn't left him; he was just too depressed to notice it.

Meanwhile Harry wasn't even aware that he'd just thought about going out in his pyjamas, a very un-Harry-like thing to do, had he noticed. He would have been even more surprised that he'd made a joke about it containing his potions master, who suddenly for some reason didn't seem so terrible, more- misunderstood. The smile on his face never left him as he bent down and took some clothes out of his trunk, not even beginning to wonder how he'd gotten there with his trunk in the first place, (Oh my god! Where's Harry and what have you done with him?) But for some strange reason he didn't feel any need to know.

What was really strange though, something that not even Harry could ignore, was the fact that his clothes didn't fit him. He could have sworn that they'd been too big for him just; well he wasn't sure when but suddenly he became very intrigued. The once baggy grey tee shirt was clinging to his chest and hanging around his stomach, and the sleeves were threatening to cut off the blood supply to his arms. The jeans he always had to wear with a belt fit him around the waist, but they stopped at his ankles as though they'd shrunk horribly in the wash. He raised an eyebrow, wondering where the hell he'd get some clothes, not even giving a thought as to why they didn't fit.

That's when the bright yellow post-it note caught his attention, sticking on the front of the small wardrobe. Slowly and happily he made his way over to it, for some reason already knowing what it was about.

Hello my boy, I'm glad that you're finally awake.

We took the liberty of doing some shopping for you, seeing as all of those clothes in your trunk are terribly small. Madame Malkins had you measured while you were dozing

Harry actually laughed at that, not feeling the least bit violated as he once would have felt.

And with those measurements we were able to get some muggle outfits from London along with the robes she so graciously provided. No worry about the cost, I'm sure it hasn't even made a dent in your fortune. Molly, Ginny and Remus all give their love, and the latter of the three requests that you do your own shopping next time.

Don't wonder too far

Albus Dumbledore – happy birthday for a month ago

A month? He asked himself raising his eyebrow in a very Malfoy-ish manor. Even Harry couldn't ignore that small fact, but instead of searching for the answers he felt assured that he'd find them out eventually.

Harry smiled softly and shook his head, imagining Remus' discomfort in shopping with two eager women for someone else. He gently pulled open the doors and peered inside before grabbing the first clothes he thought would match.

Suddenly, as though someone had just pulled on an invisible string, he felt an urge to go out onto the grounds. It was almost a though there was something there that was drawing him to it and his insides suddenly filled with warmth, he was attracted to the source like a metal to a magnet. He smiled with the glow that he suddenly felt ripple through him before walking towards the doors and out into the new world.

…

Although Draco could still hear the whispers of the girls that seemed to be his only fans drift through the air, it didn't comfort him in the slightest. Instead he settled himself by the shore of the lake and watched the water ripple and wash over his feet as the squid broke the surface. He sighed quietly, looking up at the tower he would soon be living in loom like a menacing shadow in the beauty of the castle, but he couldn't bring himself to hate the place. He couldn't bloody hate anything any more, could he? Couldn't hate bloody Potter, couldn't hate the bloody tower, hell he couldn't even hate Dumbledore after his stupid bird decided to give him a little drop of happiness.

"Damned turkey," he muttered, but he couldn't even hate that now. He picked up a pebble and threw it angrily into the lake and it landed with a 'plonk' in the water before him. He shuddered again, the second time that had happened in minutes, and picked up his head a little to find a reason why.

"Someone must be dancing on my grave," he thought glumly, "Shows how happy they'll be that I'm dead," he sighed again and buried his head in his knees as the sun hit his back and warmed him but it still didn't reach his heart.

But Draco didn't know that he was being watched.

The second that Harry had made his way outside his eyes had been drawn to someone by the lake. His blonde hair was blowing in a slight breeze as he was curled up with his head in his knees, and although Harry felt a twang to his heart at the person's misery, he couldn't push back the small smile that had crept up on his face.

The giggling had stopped, and Draco felt a wave of dread as he felt positive that it wasn't a good sign. Either someone had finally got too annoyed with their laughter and had shot them or… he swallowed hard as he felt an icy chill run up his spine. Potter was awake, yes that could be the only reason, and Draco felt himself shudder again with the knowledge that his life was officially over.

Slowly he lifted his head and gave a side-glance at the group of girls that were now ogling at the doorway with their mouths hanging open. How come he could never get them to do that? All he managed was that dreamy expression but Potter had suddenly got full out gawping like toads.

"Bloody Potter, ruddy glory hog," he muttered dryly as he fought his own temptation to look that way too. His eyes were almost being drawn there by something invisible, and he shuddered again. Bloody life, bloody weather, bloody Potter, bloody Dumbledore, bloody bird. Ah, it'd come back… at least for the latter of the few anyway. He was still having difficulty hating Potter though, damned Potter, making him go soft. He growled low in his throat and threw another pebble into the lake that hit the giant squid and made it submerge.

Harry watched with a blank expression that was completely outdone by his sparkling green eyes, both poised on the same exact point across the lake from him. He surprised himself by barely finding any shock at all in discovering that the blonde was in fact Draco Malfoy, the same boy who he had hated since he was 11. But he was suddenly having a bit of trouble remembering why he'd hated him in the first place; Draco was a bitch to everyone, so it couldn't have been too personal.

But in this moment Draco looked the very definition of Beautiful, glistening blonde locks, creamy skin, harsh grey eyes like a thousand thunder storms, small rosy lips. He began nibbling at his bottom lip without noticing as he watched Draco throw another pebble into the lake to hit the squid dead centre.

Alright, he decided, he couldn't take this torture anymore; he was going to that stupid tower to drown his stupid sorrows in some last minute homework. He'd been trying to wait it out until Potter disappeared again so that he could stay out in the sun, but not only was it obvious he wasn't leaving, Draco could tell that he was in fact looking directly at him. He gave another envious glance at the girls who still hadn't taken their eyes from the doorway and gave a half-hearted sneer as he walked away.

To most it would seem that Draco hadn't noticed them at all, but for some reason Harry could tell that he was just avoiding his direction. He smiled with the thought of the blonde purposefully trying not to look at him, and let his eyes follow the other boy as he got up and made his way towards the north side of the castle. He sighed the minute the blonde had left his sight, and for the first time since he had caught glimpse of the other guy, he saw the four girls gaping at him.

Did he have bed hair or something? He thought, feeling suddenly a little self-consciousness as he raised an arm to his hair and ran his hand thought it. It was very silky, and much easier to touch than he'd remembered it before now. He pulled a waved lock from behind his ear and straightened it out at he peered at it intently. He'd never noticed that his hair shone so much in the sun, or looked so… different.

Oh well, he thought as he shrugged gently, all will be revealed in time. And for the first time in his life in the strangest of moments, Harry had absolutely no desire to go looking for an answer that he felt sure would come to him. Slowly he turned back around to make his way back to the hospital wing, the image of Draco still fresh in his mind, the scent of his cologne in the air still as strong as though he'd been feet away.

"Oh, hello headmaster," Harry said politely as he turned to see the wizard behind him, staring out into the grounds just as he had done with a twinkle in his eye. He stepped back half a pace to see if his view had been distorted with the closeness, but sure enough he was surprised to find himself at eye level with the tall man's nose. Odd… he thought. Harry raised an eyebrow upon hearing his voice, deeper and softer than he had remembered it. "My voice is a little odd this morning," he commented and couldn't help but smile as the headmaster let out a chuckle.

"This morning's a very odd morning my dear boy," he said merrily, and Harry could tell he was very happy about something. He wondered if perhaps he had been there longer than he'd thought…

"We have a lot to discuss, come, come inside Harry," he began, stepping aside and putting a hand on Harry's shoulder as he walked back through the doors. Harry smiled thankfully, and wasn't even aware that it was the first time in his life that he'd liked a person's touch without tensing and pulling away.

"But first-" the headmaster continued, his eyes going off like fireworks in the back of his head, "I will give you a tour of your new quarters."

"Quarters?" Harry asked, intrigued. Perhaps it had something to do with being in the upper years, did everyone have their own rooms?

"Ah, all shall be revealed in time, I assure you," Dumbledore returned, and Harry merely nodded, happy that his ideas had been correct. And he flowed as gracefully as water alongside the other man as they made their way through the corridors, talking more freely and happy than they ever had before.

…

"Beauté d'ombre" the headmaster said especially loud so that Harry would remember it, but Harry would have heard it perfectly had he whispered. His eyes lit up as he watched the arch melt into place after a smile from the woman in the portrait and he was deeply reminded of those happy moments that he had spent in Diagon Alley. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled just as brightly as he held out his arm for Harry to walk through, and Harry sent him a smile before he stepped inside.

It was gorgeous, and there were no other words to describe it. It was so homely he just felt -right.

"Do you like it?" the headmaster piped in from his side and Harry turned with eyes that sparkled with joy and nodded in return. Dumbledore felt a warmth run through him like he hadn't felt in years upon seeing this once desperate and neglected boy shine with the love and pleasure that he never had a chance to feel before, becoming a young man.

"I'll show you to your room," he added and smiled as Harry dumbly nodded and followed him to the other side of the room. The headmaster stepped aside at the closed door and hadn't opened it, and Harry wondered what he was doing.

"Oh- don't worry Harry. The door handle is set to read the first magical signature it comes into contact with for the wards," he assured, and Harry nodded before reaching out for it. He felt the warmth and magic pass through him and tingle his skin before it dulled and the door clicked open, and he pushed it gently aside.

The walls looked cream but glistened golden in the light, deep red drapes hung from a magnificent four-poster bed and a rich red carpet covered the wooden floor before a small fireplace and two chairs. There was a desk, a wardrobe and bookcase, the basics, but so ornate and grand that they seemed like so much more, especially for someone who had been used to so little.

"This is really- wow," Harry breathed as he spun around to take in the whole room as the headmaster stood to one side and smiled. He let his favourite pupil bask in the beauty and take in his surroundings for a few minutes before he would break the moment. Finally Harry flopped down on his bed with a plastered smile that seemingly never left any more and Dumbledore took it as his cue to speak.

"Now, I'm sure you have quite a few questions," he guessed, and for the first time he was wrong, but Harry nodded anyway. "I'll just call your new roommate from his bedroom and we can have a chat in the common room, how does that sound?" he asked, and Harry's eyes sparkled with a curiosity that he kept well hidden.

Roommate? He thought, so that was what that strange sensation had been the moment he had passed through the arch, it was the presence of another person. He felt a wave of stomach fluttering anticipation as he wondered if maybe- just maybe- he would be sharing a room with the one person he wanted to have all to himself.

He smiled and walked dreamily after the headmaster, and had sat himself down in one of the warm leather chairs before he knew that he'd even got up from his bed. He couldn't seem to wipe the smile from his face, but he snapped out enough to watch the headmaster walk over to a door on the other side of the room.

Harry peered keenly over the headmasters shoulder to read the silver name carved in italics on the door just as his own, and his smile grew to a grin as his stomach burst and a ripple of warmth brushed over his skin.

Draco Malfoy, it read, and he had to summon all of his strength to smother the grin lighting up his face. He turned away and gave the fireplace a huge white smile before quietly clearing his throat to rid his face of the expression, but his eyes still sparkled.

…

Draco let his careful handwriting sweep across the page as he went onto his fifth foot of essay, even though his head of house had only asked for four. In his attempts to rid his mind of the images he was bringing up of one certain brunette that he logically realised may not have been looking at him at all, he had become so overly involved in his essay on love potion (fitting, huh) that he couldn't bring himself to stop the huge flow of words that were coming from his quill. His careful green ink swirled from the nib of his black feather like the coils of a snake, and he barely even registered that he'd been listing the different types of love that occurred due to the affects of different strengths for over two feet now.

Later he would regret it, but for now he hardly noticed.

The sun flickered across his face and page with the shadow that was being cast by a stray creeper that was swaying gently in the breeze and the velvet drapes on his bed fluttered gently, sending wisps of warm air around the cool room. But a gentle knocking from his door broke him out of his thoughts, and his quill slipped leaving a thin line sweeping off the edge of his page. He glared at the offending mistake before sighing upon hearing the voice on the other side of the door.

"Draco, would you mind coming out to have a chat?" he asked and just by the sound of his voice Draco could tell that Dumbledore's eyes were flashing. Draco sighed, but was still reluctant to leave as he shuddered again and felt a strange warmth envelope his right side, the side closest to the common room.

"Uh…" he began, in a very un-Malfoy manor, "I'm in the middle of a potions essay headmaster, it's due in tomorrow, I think I may have left it too late." He tried desperately but the reluctance that showed through in his voice was very different from that of wanting to carry on with homework.

"I assure you, this will only take a moment." He countered, and Draco grimaced. He wasn't in the mood to see anyone, or talk, or even think for that matter. 'Shit,' he thought sadly, giving a glance at the door as though it was his father on the other side. He sighed quietly and put his head on the desk.

"Alright, just… give me a moment," he muttered into the table.

"Very well," Dumbledore said happily and Draco heard the shuffle of feet as he made his way over to the other end of the room. Draco picked his head up from the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling extremely tired and very much not in the mood. Nevertheless, he knew that he couldn't break his word to the old coot, and besides, it may be nothing.

But nothing was that simple for Draco…

He laboriously heaved himself from his chair by the open window and prowled over to the mirror in the corner to check whether he was still presentable. His grey eyes looked a little strained but they were still bright and sharp, his skin wasn't flushed from writing and his hair wasn't a mess. His white shirt wasn't yet creased and his flies were still done up. He looked down and wiggled his toes as he saw he wasn't wearing any shoes, but shrugged it off, as he couldn't really be bothered to dress up for the headmaster.

He gave his reflection the dirtiest look he could currently summon just to make sure he could still do it if it was called for, before turning on his heel and padding across the thick green carpet toward the door.

…

Harry couldn't help but glance at the closed door every few moments from the side of his eye or over the brim of his cup of tea anxiously. Although the face of the grandfather clock on the corner read that it'd only been five minutes or so, it felt more like hours to him. Every time he read the name on the opposite door he felt an excited chill run up his spine and he had to take another sip to hide his sudden rush of feelings and cover the flush on his cheeks.

All the while the headmaster's eyes were going off like millennium fireworks combined with the garish lights of Las Vegas (very sparkly) with an intelligence and pleasure beyond words.

When finally Harry heard the small click of the door being opened he nearly jumped from his seat, but instead jerked his head slightly and took another hurried sip of his tea, which had been refilled already. Dumbledore merely smiled and rested his gaze on the opening door.

Draco plastered his face with his usual unreadable expression as he shut the door behind him and gracefully made his way over to the chairs by the fire, intrigued by this sudden flush of warmth when he could only see the headmaster.

"Ah Draco, do take a seat," he said cheerfully as though he hadn't been waiting for him for the past five minutes. Draco nodded, hiding his curiosity, and took the chair furthest away.

Only when he had sunk into the leather chair and spotted the uncanny twinkle in the old mans eye had he realised who else was there. His insides immediately turned icy and he forced himself not to widen his eyes comically before he took a long calming breath and slowly, very slowly, turned his gaze to look at the other person.

Sweet mother of Merlin…

Look up sexy in the dictionary and look what you get!

Draco barely hid the flush on his creamy cheeks after realising what he had just thought, and tore his eyes away to force himself to focus on the headmaster. Potter…was…hot…no! Potter was Potter…But, well that…

No amount of preparation could have readied him for that.

He was tall, dark, and handsome. His green eyes shone like jewels from his creamy face, smooth skin complimented long eyelashes and delicate eyebrows. He was definitely taller, he didn't even need to see him standing, and he looked a lot better… built, to put it lightly… than before.

"You-" Draco began, clearing his throat as his voice seemed higher than he had intended, "You wanted to speak with me, headmaster?" he asked formally, his face once more unreadable although inside he was squirming. The sparkle in the old man's eyes was enough to tell him that the coot knew what he was thinking, and he subconsciously sunk a little lower into his chair.

"Yes Draco, I was hoping for some assistance in filling Harry in on our present situation," he said happily, and once more Draco could say he officially hated the blighter. But Draco merely nodded and stared darkly at the barmy wizard for putting him in such a difficult situation.

"Harry-" he began, forcing Harry to tear his eyes away from the blonde, although he barely even tried to hide his sudden fascination, "Would you like the simple explanation, or the not so simple?" Dumbledore asked. Harry didn't even have to choose; all he wanted was for this to be over with so that the headmaster would leave. Because however much he loved the man like a grandfather, he didn't like sharing.

"Simple," he said a bit too quickly, and the headmasters eyes twinkled a little brighter but he merely nodded and sunk back into his chair.

"Harry, your great-grandfather was a shadow Veela, and although it has skipped the past two generations of your family the trait had surfaced in you." Dumbledore said, suddenly sober of his mirth.

"Oh, really," Harry said absently, "How can you tell?" The headmaster was more than a little astonished to see this boy he thought he knew so well barely listening to the biggest news he'd heard in years, and most people in a lifetime. But he didn't show it, and looking back to the blonde staring intently at the fireplace with a straight back and an unreadable expression he could guess why.

"You haven't looked in the mirror lately, have you Potter?" Draco snorted, but his eyes never left the fireplace. Harry was merely too thrilled at hearing his wonderful, silky voice that he didn't notice the sarcasm behind his words.

"Perhaps you could show him, Draco," the headmaster offered, and for the first time since their conversation started, Draco's eyes met his with a sharp, calculating look that reflected his intelligence and hidden Ravenclaw talent from his mother's side. Draco held his gaze for a further few moments before he nodded sharply and swept from the room, his long, fast strides showing his desperation to leave entirely.

Harry's heart almost wined at the loss of the blonde, and immediately picked up again as he came back in minutes later with something under his arm. A full-length mirror was placed in front of his chair to show him his reflection, but he let his eyes follow Draco to his seat as he studied his movements and grace before he turned to the glass.

"Woah…" he breathed.