A/N: From the reader response, apparantly romance isn't what y'all desire. Which is fine, as it's really not my genre of expertise, hehe. Henceforth, the fic uploaded here shall be gen, so if you want to read my attempts at romance you must wander over to my LJ, wherin I go by ladyphoenixia. Hope you all enjoy the very-slightly-rewritten (as the slash was only ever gonna be peripheral) version of BIS.

Before I Sleep

Sequel to 'Of Cabbages and Kings'

The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-Robert Frost: Stopping by Woods on Snowy Evening

Prologue: Moving in

"Well, that's the last of it, then." Breathing an audible sigh of relief, he almost carelessly dropped the heavy box onto the floor to join its fellows, his right hand reaching up to massage his neck. "I still don't understand why we couldn't shrink the things, you know," the blonde complained, though unable to hide his smile.

Rolling his eyes, the other man deposited his own box gently on the floor of the living room, before taking over the massaging, to his companion's evident relief. "You complain too much," he replied, his hazel eyes sparkling with laughter as his companion seemed to melt beneath his fingertips. "And you know very well that shrinking charms have a nasty habit of damaging non-magical objects…"

"Yes, yes, you've only told me that about a thousand times," the blonde replied in amusement, as he stepped away to examine the room. Like most of the small house, it was decorated in simple yet tasteful fashion, retaining the natural shades of the wood over the garish wall coverings and carpets favoured by much of the Wizarding population. To his surprise, the warm colours were a pleasant change after the austere shades of Malfoy Manor, where young Draco had previously lived.

"I know," Harry Potter replied, easily deciphering his friend's expression, a skill few others could boast. "I never expected to live anywhere else, and here I am, in a little wooden house, in a Wizarding village, on the other side of the continent. And I only lived there for fourteen years, I can't imagine how it would be for you, leaving your manor…"

"No, no, it's not that," Draco replied. "It's just… it's hard to believe, after so many futile attempts at persuasion, that this is really happening. You're really here. You know, I was almost giving up hope on you. You were so determined to stay in that little muggle town…"

Harry smiled. "It's going to be strange, being in this world again, I won't deny. And, well, there're so many memories…" his expression turned slightly sadder, and Draco enveloped him in a hug, receiving a warm glance in gratitude.

"I know, Harry. But as I've been telling you, you can't keep hiding from your past."

"I know, Draco, I know. It took me a while to understand, but you're right, the Wizarding world is a part of me. I'm going to miss St Just, though; the quiet of the meadows, the glistening grey of the sky against the ocean, the long walks along the dunes, and of course my rock… and though I know Rommy will be happy with old Mrs Lancaster, and that he'd never be able to handle the move at his age, let alone apparition, I'm going to miss him too…"

"You'll be alright, Harry," Draco replied. "I mean, it's not like you were ever really friends with the people. And though your new neighbours won't know who you are to begin with, maybe you can make a new start, in the world you belong."

Harry smiled. "Well, there is that. I don't think I could cope with being the Boy-Who-Lived again, though."

"Well, you won't have to. So, now that's settled, let's check out our bedrooms!" Draco grinned, eyes almost twinkling in excitement. It never failed to amuse Harry how much Draco looked like Albus when he was happy, though of course he would never tell him. Especially, surprisingly, now his eyes were silver, unlike the blue they had been when they first met… or re-met, he should say.

As Draco almost ran – he would call it a dignified stride, of course – up the wooden stairs to the attic of sorts in which their rooms would be situated, Harry took one more look at his house. Twenty years ago, if someone was to tell him that one day he'd be living with Draco Malfoy of all people, he'd have laughed in their faces. Five years ago, the very thought of moving into Hogsmeade would have been beyond thought, as he shied away from any contact with the world that was once his.

Who would have thought that a single chance meeting could have changed his life so much? And yet, now, he couldn't even imagine living without Draco. He had found everything he was missing and, for the first time since his fourth year, he was genuinely happy.

An indistinct yell from upstairs disturbed him from his recollections, and he quickly bolted up to the top, only to see Draco standing in what seemed complete shock.

"What is it, Draco?" he asked in concern. Though Draco was not usually one to startle, the most random things dismayed him, and it was impossible to tell whether to be legitimately concerned sometimes, causing Harry his fair share of near-heart attacks.

"My room…" Draco said softly. "It's… it's in Gryffindor colours!"

Blinking, Harry looked around. Like the rest of the house, the floors were made of the finest mahogany, though a maroon rug covered much of the floor space, delicately decorated with shades of silver and gold. This was enhanced by the maroon bedspread and the predominantly mahogany furniture, as sparse as it was in these first days, though Harry had every faith that Draco would soon begin to personalise the space.

"I don't see…" he began, bewildered.

"It's crimson. And look, there, on that rug, that's gold embroidery." He pointed frantically, seemingly blind to the equally present silver, and Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"It's maroon, Draco, and I thought it went well with the floor which, I might add, is a beautiful shade of wood that I'm not going to let you die or carpet away, no matter how you plead. You can hardly say that Slytherin greens fit, and I thought you liked the warm colours," he added in slight confusion. "You did say that you liked the colours downstairs… it's the same thing, Draco!"

"Yes, but it's my bedroom," Draco stressed. "I'm not going to live in a room decorated in Gryffindor colours!" he added petulantly, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"It's not like you're going to spend more than one night a week here anyway," he began, as Draco would of course room at the school during the week due to his professorial role. But when he showed no signs of relenting, he drew his wand – Holly, Phoenix feather, still as loyal as the day it was sold – and changed the bedspread to a deep forest green, almost black, and the rug to the same. "Happy now?" he asked, not entirely pleased with the new colour scheme, but unwilling to argue on their first day in a new house together. And besides, it wasn't his eyes which would be subjected to it nightly.

But as Draco hugged him, murmuring babbled words of gratitude, Harry shrugged and reflected on the advantages of knowing when to gracefully back down. And as long as they remembered how to compromise, he could see their new situation working out very pleasantly indeed.