Since that day the rains hadn't really stopped, the ground had been nearly deserted for almost a week due to the clouds that hung like a curse over the castle and the rain that was forever pounding. By night it was little better, the rains stopping occasionally to give way to the howling wind, or just to continue spitting for a few more hours. British weather at its greatest.

Now the rain had broken for a little, but the darkened purple clouds that rolled like waves over the sky hidden above were plastered as far as the eye could see. It was like a blanket had been cast over the school to block out the sun and the world around them, confining, restricting. The forest's gnarled trees merged into the horizon, jarring at different angles with branches that linked like chains, arms designed to close like a flytrap, dragging you in once you venture too close and closing you in like a wall. The lake looked like oil, dark and shimmering, strangely beautiful but uninviting, the dark surface hiding what lay underneath.

Draco sat upon the astronomy tower, his dark school robes hugged against his chest as he tightened them to shield himself against the bitter cold that was trying to drive him back inside. His toes were numb and his face was brushed pink from the wind grating against his skin, but he was relentless and refused to withdraw as everyone else had. His silver blue eyes were pointed off focus on the horizon, deep in thought, but they flashed with the emotions he felt.

It was times like this that Draco wished he'd listened to his mother's rants about Veela, and then maybe he would have been a little more prepared. Now that he'd gotten over the initial lust and desire, he was troubled. The silver scar on his forearm was all that was left from his initiation, but one silver scar would most definitely not be the last of it. Voldemort had yet to try again and it seemed that the longer he drew it out, the more Draco felt unease well up inside of him, and the terror of that day still lay fresh in his mind.

Sadness welled behind his eyes, shimmering like mercury and spreading through every shred of his being to make him feel weighted down. It was still coming, he'd been lucky, delayed it, but now he would suffer for what had happened. But then again it all falls upon how you would define luck, because Draco was starting to have second thoughts. Luck was how he'd gotten away, how he was still free, but the origin for that luck threaded beads of complication into his life that he wasn't sure how to deal with.

The mark hadn't worked because he already had a magical bond upon him, without him knowing it. That moment in the hospital wing as he looked down to see himself from above he had unintentionally accepted something that he knew was to bring trouble. Veela choose one partner, and one partner alone, and it seemed the Harry had tried to ensure his own with a magical and emotional link. He didn't even know he was doing it, but he had bonded his magic and deep feelings to ensnare upon Draco the moment he accepted. Before now, Draco had never thought what he did had been accepting anything.

An even more troubling thought was that he knew bonds came in steps of three, and all three would be completed once the first had begun. He'd accepted the emotional, accepted the physical, which left… you guessed it, magical. How the hell does a magical bond work? Draco simply had no idea, he just prayed with all of his might that it wouldn't upset the fine line that his life was balanced precariously on. If it were obvious, he'd be a dead man- literally.

But with Harry it was all so simple, it was so easy to sink into his touch and feel your soul heighten and soar as though you didn't have a care in the world. It was so easy to fall into the shadows of his eyes that never stopped sparkling, so easy to become consumed in the arms of darkness that wrap around your soul and pull you deeper. At night it was simple, with Harry, the creature of the night, it was simple. But Draco didn't belong in the shadows, his golden hair that shone like the sun and his skin that glowed like cream were meant for the daylight, the beams to light the coldness of his heart.

Once those lips brushed his with the softness and desire, he was lost. Everything was lost, the mark on his arm disappeared and the wounds upon his soul healed once those arms wrapped around him, when he wasn't alone. But in the daylight, nothing was simple.

Harry wasn't meant for the daylight, he was meant for the daylight. They were opposites but they attracted like the poles of a magnet, so different yet similar in so many ways, healing each other and embracing the time together. They weren't to be together in the light, the light where Slytherins spied for the man with snake eyes, where the dangers that the darkness had taken re-appear in all of their glory.

Draco couldn't be with Harry as the sun rose upon the horizon and sent the Veela's element retreating. There were so many complications, the shadow being against the very thing he was to become, the eyes that see what you do and tear it away from you. If someone were to report to Voldemort that light and dark were fraternising, Voldemort would use the light to ensnare the darkness, and although Draco wanted nothing better than to disappear into the shadows with Harry forever, the shadows were only there half of the time.

And the other half seemed so much longer.

Draco sighed and let the wind swallow the sounds and carry them away, lapping the breath form his lips into a swirling fog that disappeared to never return. There was no escape; he was already too entangled in the affairs of daylight to disappear. If he vanished he would be hunted down, and if he accepted, he would die fighting for something he would never believe in. Draco let the wind play with his hair, the willowy fingers lifting the silvery strands to dance in the moonlight like silk as though they were as light as the air around them. He felt his legs nudged by the gales as they hung over the tower, swinging in the wind.

How easy it would be just to- fall. Draco leant forward to peer down the drop, the wind howling in his ears as it blew up the walls and rocked the contorted trees of the forest. His head spun and he pulled back, taking deep calming breaths as he tried to clear the blackness that crept up upon the edges of his mind and clawed at his consciousness. He'd never had vertigo before, but he knew that this wasn't vertigo. This was confliction; he wanted to end it all, the complication and the suffering, yet at the same time that seemed like the most unappealing concept. Leaving, leaving what little happiness he had, it was strange but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Well, maybe it wasn't all that strange.

Draco shook his head, his silvery hair blowing around and into his eyes, and swung his legs vigilantly back over the wall. This was not an option, he decided, but he knew that he'd need something to keep him going, and that something happened to be a someone, and that someone was currently asleep in his rather inviting bed. For the first time in days Draco felt his lips curl into a sardonic smile, and he let the wind lap at his robes for one last time, before he made his way back down the tower, heading northeast.

12½ minutes later…

Draco padded across the refined wooden floor silently as he peeled his frozen robes from his equally frozen body, letting the cold air sweep against his chest as he tore off his shirt, his rich porcelain skin flourishing in goose bumps. The purple clouds still loomed out of the window, intimidating him, but he ignored them as he set about digging as quietly as he could for his pyjamas.

Silk, satin, cotton, calico- Merlin! Did he have no winter pyjamas? These were all damned freezing! Draco shuddered and shook his head in distain as he pulled out the thickest looking he could see and pulled them over his boxers, shuddering as the material ran over his cold pricked skin. They were light blue, and light in all aspects because he could swear that they were virtually see-through. He shook his head in disapproval and folded his arms as he made his way out of his room and across the thick carpet and cold wooden floor of the common room.

Now he had two things to order from France, winter pyjamas (a lot of them) and that outfit he'd remembered from a strange dream. All black dress robes above the knee, matching trousers and cape. He mentally noted them and told himself that he'd owl the designer in the morning.

Draco let his spidery white fingers reach out for the handle on the door reading 'Harry Potter' in golden italics, but stopped before his fingertips brushed the coppery surface. The wards, the damned magical signeture wards! Draco growled low in his throat and gripped his torso roughly with his other arm as his fingers began to go numb, but his hand stayed poised over the brass surface. He could almost feel the warmth of the sleeping body hitting him from inside of the room, taunting him, and he scowled at the handle. He wanted to get in, he wanted to be warm and he wanted to sleep, with the one thing that he gave a damn about at that moment in time.

click

Draco felt his eyes widen a little as the door opened a crack as the lock released, and he was hit with a small wave of warmer air and smiled as he breathed it in deeply, savouring the feeling. He frankly didn't give a damn what had just happened for the door to open, because he could spy Harry's large golden red bed on the other side of the room and had begun to make his way towards it.

Harry lay on his back with one arm over his head and the other laying lazily over his chest. He wore no top- to Draco's delight, but the blonde found it strange how Harry could be so warm and comfortable when he was so bitterly cold. His mouth was open a crack and his chest rose and fell with every deep breath he took. The covers were around his waist and he lay dead center of the bed, taking up all of the room. Draco smirked his eyes alight with something that they had never shown before, compassion maybe? He let his gaze travel over the length of the sleeping form before him as he contemplated disturbing him, but his thoughts lead to the knowledge that there was no way he wasn't going to get in now.

Slowly he peeled back the covers gently, making sure not to expose any more of the sleeping Veela than was already exposed and slipped in, feeling the mattress sink a little under his weight. He felt a warm flush run through him with the heat under the covers and immediately felt his toes begin to thaw, and he shifted his body closer to the other with the limited movement possible.

"Your feet are cold," he heard Harry murmur quietly, and turned his head around to see one of Harry's emerald eyes cracked open as he shifted a little into the covers and watched with a small smile as Draco began to do the same.

"Oh really, I hadn't noticed," he drawled, but the smile upon his lips held none of the arrogance that he normally showed, his mask down for the first time in years in front of another person. Harry let out a small, tired chuckle, and made no reply as he gently pushed the covers over Draco's shoulder and let his arm sneak around the lean waist of the blonde and pulled him closer. Draco let himself slot in the curves of the other body and felt his skin bristle with the warm touch as he felt the hands around him, the tender touch he'd been missing for so long. Draco sighed with content and nuzzled into the crook of Harry's neck, getting a small chuckle in response as Harry's skin was brushed with his cool, rythmic breaths.

"G'night, my little Dragon," Harry murmured as he let his eyes close, feeling more at peace than he'd ever remembered feeling. The soft material on his bare torso and the cold toes made him feel that he had someone there for him, and as he felt the cool skin begin to warm against his own he let a small smile brave his handsome face.

"Less of the little," Draco grunted in return, and Harry's smile broadened as they both fell into a peaceful sleep in each others arms.

…

Murky grey clouds wandered past the window leisurely, the merging splashes of creamy white and midnight black combining as rain fell to the floor like a curtain hanging over the grounds. A small starling chirped outside of the window against the gloom, the only bird stupid enough to be out in the weather, its lone song travelling into the wind only to disappear. The faint sound of water hitting the lake drifted up to the tower overlooking it, the patter of raindrops hammering against the glass pane adding to the noise complimenting the fresh, damp smell in the air.

Harry's green eyes flickered open to adjust to the dim light of the room, the sun hidden behind the canvas of clouds covering the sky as far as the horizon. He blinked and shuffled further into the source of warmth next to him, drawing it closer without even knowing what it was as he licked his dry lips and moaned quietly. Whatever it was shifted slightly and mumbled under its breath, and Harry cracked open his eyes again to see what it was.

Draco.

Harry didn't even need to look, he was unmistakable. The faint smell of cologne and wild flowers on his clothes, in his hair, on his neck. The soft skin beneath his fingers, the expensive pyjamas that left little to the imagination, being translucent. The way that they fitted so perfectly together, the way that Draco's legs were stretched luxuriously over his mattress, taking most of the room. The soft breathing that tickled the back of his arm and made him shudder, and more importantly, the way he felt the happiest he had ever felt in his life. He felt complete, he felt as though nothing in the world could ruin the moment, not Voldemort, not war, not anything. He smiled, letting his toes curl as he slowly placed his leg over Draco possessively and breathed in deeply, savouring his scent.

His right arm was slotted snugly above Draco's shoulder, his neck draped over Harry's upper arm as his head came to rest on the pillow above. From there Harry's arm was bent and wrapped around his firm, creamy torso and his other arm was securely around his waist. Harry sighed contentedly and drew him in further, until there was not a part of them not touching, too dazed to wonder about anything else. What mattered was that this felt right, it felt perfect, and he was sure he had never felt happier in all of his life.

He found his face buried in a waterfall of silver hair, feeling as soft as silk against his cheek as he nuzzled against it gently, letting his hands skirt over the body next to him, mapping it out in his semi conscious mind. He felt the satin pyjamas beneath his fingertips, the smooth skin of his stomach where the top rode up beneath their thick covers, and the shoulder left exposed to the morning air, slightly colder than the rest of the body. Untangling his arm from around the Draco's waist, smiling as he heard a small moan of protest from the sleeping form, he brought his fingers up and gently pushed the mane of silky locks behind his ear before he wrapped his arm back around the waist again.

Harry shuffled a little bit, trying to make as little movement as possible, until he reached the right position to bury his head in the crook of Draco's neck. His stomach fluttered as he gently began bringing his toes up the leg of Draco's trousers and planted the smallest of butterfly kisses on the side of his neck. Draco moaned quietly and his breathing pattern changed as he began to wake up, making Harry smile against his skin as he moved up to nip at his ear lobe.

Draco's skin tingled beneath each kiss as though he were being brushed by a feather, making him shudder against the leg draped over him and slowly running under his pyjamas. His stomach fluttered pleasantly, and he felt the blood in his veins pump a little faster as he slowly woke up in the most wonderful fashion he could remember. He took a deep breath, sighing in content, and breathed in the familiar scent of pine and grass, natural and fresh connoting an image of complete freedom.

Draco's grey eyes fluttered open as he felt the lips move to his jaw bone, tracing the line of his face, all the while barely touching it, making him shiver and let out a small 'mew' at the back of his throat. Normally he might have been a little mortified that he'd 'mewed', but in that moment he had far better things to worry about. The room was basking in a dull, grey glow, the golden furniture looking wine red and bleak in the little light shining through the gaps in the curtains, but the walls still sparkled golden. Ah, now he remembered where he was. Draco let his eyes fall again, and a small smile tugged at his lips. He'd finally found cloud nine.

Draco sighed again and slowly turned around, letting the lips trace him with his movement, moving until they were brushing the tender spot beneath his chin. He groaned and let his closed eyes flutter, and Harry caught on, working over the same tender skin and receiving a few satisfying noises in return. He sneaked gently over the body beneath him, his bare skin moving easily over the silky material. The leg that had previously been draped over the blonde reached the mattress on the other side and he straddled Draco's waist, bending down as he worked on the smooth, silky skin with his lips and teeth as Draco tipped his head back eagerly.

"You like?" Harry murmured against his skin as his fingers wondered and plucked eagerly at the buttons of Draco's shirt. He got a moan in return and felt himself go light headed in ecstasy, pushing the shirt gently away from Draco's chest as he slid down and attacked the creamy skin he had unearthed. The blonde's eyes rolled back a little beneath his eyelids as he arched his back gently, and felt Harry fiddling with the drawstring of his trousers.

Draco brought his hips up to let them be pulled down smoothly over the bulge beneath his boxers, groaning deeply as he felt the tongue dip into his belly button. He'd been out with a lot of people, and done this more than once, yet he couldn't help feeling the same anticipation running through his veins just like the first time all over again. It was almost as though he was starting with a clean slate, as though nothing had ever happened up until this point. It was exhilarating, and not quite frightening but, strange. Not in a bad way mind, if anything this felt, well perfect.

An arm slipped around his waist and he rose to let it under, feeling the cool fingers brushing over his skin, his heart beating faster every second. He moaned loudly as he felt Harry's mouth close around him, feeling the fingers brushing his back as he raised his hips to meet him before he could stop himself, feeling the warmth around him as the tongue moved rhythmically around every bloody tender spot he had. It was almost as though Harry knew exactly where his weaknesses were, knew exactly how to bring out every moan.

With his other hand he tugged down his own boxers, the only thing he had been sleeping in, feeling his pulse not only on his wrists as he throbbed. He felt Draco arch underneath him, giving him the satisfaction of knowing that it was him bringing this perfect being such pleasure. Every moan was like a bird's song to his ears, the way Draco's fingers curled around the sheets and his legs stretched in the feeling, it was like sweet poison.

He let Draco go, hearing him murmur weak protests under his breath, and licked his lips as he sunk back up his body to connect their lips together. Their tongues battled raw passion against each other, Draco's jaw moving fast against his own as he tasted himself on his tongue.

"Can I-?" Harry breathed against his mouth as he kept himself under enough control not to thrust his hips against Draco in the moment.

"Oh god, yes," Draco returned, before clashing their lips together, snaking his fingers in Harry's hair, feeling the ebony strands between his fingers as he tugged impatiently.

Harry took a deep breath through his nose in preparation, he'd never done anything like this before, ever. He didn't even know how he'd gotten this far with so little to go by, but with Draco it all came naturally and even though he felt his blood pump with adrenalin and his stomach flutter almost painfully for the first time, it just felt too right to go wrong. Harry pressed himself harder against the smaller boy, and let himself slip inside. He grunted as he felt it, the light headed feeling once more clouding his mind as he grabbed hold of Draco's hips and pushed. Draco moaned loudly and tipped his head back, mussing Harry's hair beneath the fingers of one hand while the other one found its way onto his backside, following the movements. Harry's hand snaked down to slowly move along Draco to give him some of the same feelings he was getting, and he was greeted with Draco growing harder beneath his grip.

The walls that glittered golden sparked as the air crackled with magic, the room flashing as though in a thunderstorm, as everything magical whirred and lit up as though powered with a faulty fuse. Both felt an intense warm brush through them, both arching simultaneously as the feeling ran up their spines and made all of their muscles tense momentarily. A soft wind blew through the room, rustling the curtains and playing with their damp hair, and the feeling of something deep within their souls opened up as they moaned and thrust. Their sweaty bodies pushing and rubbing against each other as Harry tipped his head back and cried Draco's name, Draco's fingers pulling the sheets off the mattress and Harry moved one of his arms to grab at the headboard as though his life depended on it.

Thankfully, no one was around the northeast tower to hear the twin cries of pleasure barely a minute later.

…

They had done it two more times after that, and even though Draco had more than enjoyed it, he was now knackered. He fell graciously into the ornate chair in front of the writing desk, clad only in his boxers and a thin black dressing gown and sighed happily. He'd never felt so complete, never felt so alive and so at peace with himself before. Everything had always had complications, there had always been risks and bad evenings out the good, but for once he didn't feel the need to touch wood whenever he walked out of the door. He smiled lazily out of the window at the grey clouds above, a merge of dark and light just as they were, and sighed. God he was soft. God he didn't care.

Draco's hair fell in front of his eyes as he looked down and opened one of the drawers to reveal a neat stack of parchments along with a few quills and ink. He slipped out a thick piece and put it on the desk before him, and dipped the end of the quill in the ink. He needed to send the sketch off to Fabrice (his designer in France) before the end of the morning, so that he could be sure that if it didn't arrive to him in exactly fifteen days he could complain. He liked complaining, and he especially liked getting complimentary items in rare materials to go with what he'd ordered. Being a Malfoy occasionally had his advantages.

The nib of the quill scratched against the paper as he began making rough circles as he proportioned out his own body on the page, outlining it with detail afterwards as the circles disappeared to be left with only his frame. He began sketching eagerly, scratching furiously over areas of dense colour and crosshatching in the shading. The cloak, the dress robes above the knee over a long sleeved top and black trousers. He didn't even notice Harry creeping up behind him, until he had wrapped his arms around his waist and slipped him onto his knee.

"What are you doing?" he asked quietly, placing his face on Draco's shoulder as he looked down to see the blonde scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. His movements almost seemed random, like he was a small child drawing lines with crayons, but as he looked down he couldn't help but gasp. Although still unfinished, even though the robes were still parchment colour in places and there was not yet hair upon his head, a miniature Draco stood out on the page with a hand on his hip.

"I didn't know you could draw," he added as an afterthought, impressed with the details and feeling something inside of him well with some sort of pride or recognition as he realised that his Draco was even more perfect than before.

"I didn't know you could talk to snakes," Draco returned, a small smirk tugging at his lip.

"Touché," Harry replied, nipping at Draco's neck before he leant back over and peered intently at the page.

But what was strange was the fact that these were exactly the same clothes as he had remembered Draco wearing in his dream. The dream he had woken up from in Transfiguration, the dream that had been more of a fantasy for him as he dreamt of all of the things he wanted to do.

"I had this dream a while back, while I was in the Hospital Wing," Draco began absently as he began to colour in mini Draco's cloak, "and in it I was wearing this. I happen to have a lot of my father's money to spend, and I also happen to like the outfit, so I've decided to order it from my designer in France and get it posted to me in about a fortnight." Mini Draco's cloak began to sway in some imaginary breeze the moment he finished, and he dipped his quill in the ink again and moved it down to the trousers.

"You- what?" Harry asked, finding it hard to form an entire sentence. The Hospital Wing, that had been about a week and a bit ago, when had he had that dream? It had been a Tuesday, he'd been in Transfiguration which mean he would have been in… 4th period. When was Draco in the hospital wing? Could they have really shared the same dream, the same subconscious thoughts?

Draco sighed and scribbled furiously, pretending to ignore the stupid question.

"I- I had that dream too," Harry breathed. Draco's quill slipped, creating a line from his trousers off the page and onto the table. He cursed under his breath and ripped open one of the draws for some ink remover before it dried, trying to save his drawing before he dealt with the strange nagging at the back of his mind.

He sighed as the ink disappeared beneath the small sponge, and sank back a little against Harry's chest as he looked down at his half finished picture.

"It was probably different," he muttered, leaning back forward and beginning to shade in the side of his face.

"No- it, well it was dark and you were there, wearing that. And all I could see was you against the darkness, so I moved forward and I wrapped my arms-" Draco's pen slipped again, but this time his movements were more sluggish as he ran the remover sponge over the line.

"And then, then what did you do?" he asked, genuinely curious as he kept his voice steady, switching on the block of his emotions just as he did whenever he was forced to be strong, even though inside he was screaming.

Harry hesitated. He wasn't sure what Draco would think about him dreaming over him before they were together, perhaps he would take it as obsession or strange, deluded fantasies. Harry looked up to see Draco's head turned slightly to the side, looking at him from the side of his eye with an unreadable expression. His stormy eyes seemed to shine with something hidden that Harry couldn't determine, and the hair that fell before his creamy skin hung like a waterfall. He looked like an angel, and he knew that if he lost this, he'd lose everything. Harry sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, tightening his grip on Draco's waist almost like a lifeline.

"And then I kissed your neck," he muttered, and winced as he felt Draco tense beneath his grip. But Draco was not tensing because of Harry's fantasies, he was not tensing in repulsion of Harry thinking of him that way before he truly returned the feeling, he was tensing for three reasons.

Curiosity, the thoughts buzzing through his mind of the different types of mind magic involved in subconscious mind links, and the strange feeling in his chest as though trying to tell him something, trying to convince him. He shook his head and placed down his quill, turning around a little in Harry's lap to face him. And finally, denial.

Normal wizards don't have mind links, he told himself logically, and especially not teenagers. Connecting with someone while conscious was hard enough, let alone while you're asleep. Shared dreams aren't uncommon, but they are usually vague or forgotten because it was merely caused by the stray dreams latching onto others and moulding together. To have the exact same dream, the dream Draco was picturing in his mind behind his thoughtful expression, meant you would have to be with someone completely on a subconscious level.

"Strange," he muttered at last, turning back to the parchment to finish the right trouser leg, watching as mini Draco's left leg shifted uncomfortably and the rest of his body was brought to life.

"By the way," he added as an after thought, "You're going to miss quidditch practice."

"Shit!" Harry hissed, gently slipping out from beneath Draco and standing up before running into his room to grab his Firebolt and quidditch robes. The blonde let a small smile tug at his lips and shook his head, turning back to the parchment as he jotted down his memorised measurements on the side of the page, and pulled out another piece of parchment to address a small letter including a vague description of the pyjamas he wanted.

Harry ran back in a few moments later with half of his robes on as he frantically did up the buttons while trying to shove on his shin pads and do up his belt. He leant down and pressed against Draco's lips, causing him to lean back a little in the chair, before breaking apart and flashing a quick smile before picking his broom off the floor and running for the door.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Drake!" he cried over his shoulder, letting the tapestry fall back behind him to leave Draco with the view of those hauntingly beautiful swaying trees. Draco shook his head and turned back to the letter, dipping his quill in the ink again.

"I don't even want to think about it," he muttered to himself, smiling coyly, before he moved the quill against the paper and let his cursive writing litter the page.