5.

"Draco!"

The voice was familiar. Draco stirred, but didn't wake. It was, after all, only a dream, right? He couldn't possible be here.

"Draco – call off your bloody dog!"

As the room came in focus, audibly, he heard Dragon's distinctive growl build up to a bark. When his eyes opened, he realised the voice came from the last person he wanted to see – which was also the first person he needed to see.

Harry Potter was in the room.

Draco sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. With a stretch and a yawn, the scene in front of him came to view. Dragon stood between he and Harry with his tail erect and stiff. Harry's wand was outstretched and pointing at the beast.

"Oh, calm down, Harry – the dog won't kill you."

"I can't fucking tell! Call him off, Draco!"

"Dragon – come!" Draco commanded, albeit softly.

Dragon's ears and tail fell as he looked back and forth between Harry and his master. He looked frightened, as if he had done something bad, until Draco patted a spot on the couch beside him, an invitation to sit. Dragon took the call, hopping on the couch and walking in a circle before collapsing next to Draco, laying his head in his lap. Draco scratched his 'spot' and smiled when he saw that Dragon was still eyeing Harry, warningly.

"Good boy," Draco said as he leaned in to kiss the dog's head.

"Why is it," Harry asked as he folded his arms defiantly over his chest, watching the scene in front of him, "when I wanted a puppy you would have no part of it? Come to The States, however, and one of the first things you do is find a dog."

"I didn't find the dog, Harry," Draco answered with a yawn and a stretch, "the dog found me."

"Where have you been?"

"Where did you find me?"

Ignoring the snide remark, Harry continues with his questioning, "I was so worried, Draco."

"I don't need you to be worried about me, Harry. I never have." But he did need Harry to worry about him, he always had and he always would. He hid a smile behind the shaggy mane of his four-legged companion as he whispered, "There's a good boy. Such good guard-dog, aren't you, Dragon? Yes, you are."

Draco knew that history repeats itself. But sitting there on the couch, with his dog in his lap and Harry standing over him with that look of relief etched on his face, he knew that he was falling in love with Harry all over again.

Draco looked up to see Harry leaning out into the hallway, looking around the walls and up to the ceiling.

"You... you did this?" he asked, softly. "All of it?"

"None other," Draco answered, with a hint of pride. 'Gloat to taste,' he thought. But this was something Draco didn't feel needed such prideful revelry.

"This is really good, Draco. You even hid your magical signature. Any reason for that? It would have been nice to be able to say you did this, y'know?"

"I didn't do it for recognition, Potter – or approval."

Harry's gaze turned quickly – unapologetically – to Draco as he admonished, "Don't call me that, Draco."

"Sorry," Draco said, turning his attention back to Dragon, "Old habits, you know?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, "It's been seven years since you called me that, last."

Another leer. "Well, history repeats itself, y'know?"

Harry clenches his fists at the sound of that familiar drawl and the sight of the half-cocked sneer on Draco's face.

"What are you trying to tell me, Draco?"

Draco's posture gives, as does his defiant expression.

"Nothing, Harry. I'm sorry."

"So...," Harry's voice softened as he stepped closer to the couch. He watched the dog's ears perked up. "Why did you then? Do all this, I mean."

"... I dunno ..."

The answer was honest and for the nonce that would be enough for Harry. He sat next to Draco on the couch. His hands fidgeted; he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. Draco answered the question for him by standing and walking out of the room.