When finally we descended to the commonroom, we found it deserted apart from a group of first-years playing Gobstones.  They didn't even notice us as we crawled out through the portrait hole.

:As we've not yet met your compatriots, Harry, I think maybe we should...hm...go for a walk.:

:To find them, you mean, or what?:

:I had a trip to someplace quiet where we won't be interrupted more in mind.  The library would be perfect.:

:That's if Hermione's not in there, you mean.  We can try, though, if you like.:  I turned toward the library and Draco followed.  :Why are we going there though?:

:Like I said, so we won't be interrupted.  I want to figure something out without input from anyone else distracting us.:

:Okay...:  I felt apprehensive.  I always have when someone's said 'We need to talk' or whatnot;  for some reason I always feel like I've done something wrong and now they're going to make me pay for it.  Usually I'm wrong, but there it is.

:You're wrong this time too.:

:Are you sure I'm not in trouble?:  I knew how childish this sounded, but I really needed the reassurance.

A mental chuckle.  :Of course I'm sure.  You're in nothing like trouble.  Unless McGonagall gets a hint of what you spent all morning and a bit of the afternoon doing, and where you were doing it.:

I made a face.  :I'd probably be expelled.:

:So would I, for defiling the Boy Who Lived.:

:Ugh, don't call me that.:

:Why not?  You are.  And you call yourself that sometimes, don't deny it.:  He grinned at me, an endearing, lopsided grin.

:Yes, but when I do, I'm always being a pompous git!:  I wasn't joking, and he knew it.  He laughed, and after a moment I joined him.  :Seriously, though, I hate that Boy Who Lived stuff.  For one thing, I can barely remember it, and it's not like I can personally take a lot of credit for what happened.  I get way too much attention because of the whole thing anyway.  I'd rather everyone forgot about it and just let me be ME.: 

:You mean that, don't you.:

:Yes, I do.  I mean, I like being special and all, and I like being paid attention to—somewhat—but I'd rather be known for the things I've done, say, since I was out of diapers, for a start.: 

He laughed again.  :Good point.  Alright, I won't call you the Boy Who Lived anymore.  Besides which, soon the title will be obsolete anyway.  You won't stay a boy forever, and the Man Who Lived When He Was A Boy sounds pretty damned stupid.  Or the Man Who Used To Be The Boy Who Lived.  Or even just the Man Who Lived.  Trust me, it'll pass into the realm of history textbooks sooner or later.:

:Oh gods, I hope you're right.:

:Of course I am.  I'm always right.: 

I gave him a little shove with my shoulder.  :Don't sound so smug!:

Draco looked at me with wide, innocent eyes.  :Well, I am, aren't I?:

:...I'd say maybe...half the time.:

Now he pretended to be hurt and outraged.  :Only HALF the time?  Where have you been anyway?:

...And the humour faded.  :On the opposite side of a lot of nasty insults, mostly.  I'll have to take your word for it until I've had a real chance to see you in action.:

:...Good point.:

We each left the other to his own thoughts the rest of the way.

The library, shockingly, did not contain Hermione.  I wondered if she and Ron had wandered off somewhere on the grounds to talk about yesterday.  I personally thought it was a very good thing for she and Ron to have some time alone;  I was getting tired of Ron's hesitant idiocy about his feelings for her (I'd never had any idea anyone could be so completely oblivious for so long!) and I was afraid that before long, Hermione would too.  She was far from unnoticed these days by boys from all houses, and Viktor Krum still sent her the occasional letter.  Ron just fumed through it all.  Maybe not having me around so much would help the situation.  I could only hope.

Draco found us a nice, secluded table.  Not that there was anyone in the library besides us anyway on a fine Saturday afternoon, but I guess it made him feel better anyway.  Or he was just used to lurking.  Heh.

We each wandered the shelves for a few moments, picking out a book to (appear to) read.   Draco finally returned lugging a thick, dusty tome, and pretending to be absorbed in mine (I was actually just looking at the pictures, which were a little dull for me as it was an herbal) I asked, :So what did you want to talk about?:

:Well, us, really.  We never finished that conversation.:

I fought hard not to smirk.  :Oh, yes we did.:

:I didn't mean physically.:

:Oh.:

:What I mean is, what ARE we going to do?  We've still got the rest of this year and all of next to be in school.  We're irrevocably in different houses.  Your friends are, just barely, reconciling themselves to our mere FRIENDSHIP;  I'd not like to ask them to understand our—current relationship—shut up, Harry, stop smirking like that—so quickly.  What about the rest of the school?  The rest of our respective houses?  What about my parents?  What happens if we come out entirely and change what everyone's used to us being overnight?  There's going to be trouble, Harry.:

I mulled that over, smirking temporarily forgotten.  :So you're saying we should keep this hidden.:  I was ever so slightly hurt;  I'd wanted to go singing through the hallways.  But obviously Draco had put a lot more thought into this than I had.

:Discrete, anyway.  Private.  For now.  Let the world see us become friends, that's one thing.  We can just blame it on the two days stuck with each other in the hospital wing, which technically is what it comes down to.  Let them get used to that.  See what happens.  THEN, maybe, tell Ron and Hermione.  See how THEY take it.  And then, especially if we've got them at our backs, we can take on the world.  But if we go from loathing each other to being flamingly infatuated with each other within a matter of days—there's going to be questions, at the very least.  And that, really, is what I'm most worried about.  Disfavour I can handle.:

:They'll want to know why.  And if this gets to the teachers, they'll be upset—:

:They'll be a lot more than upset, Harry, they'll be infuriated, and they'll do everything they can to return us to 'normal'.  Which means that eventually Snape and Pomfrey will remember what you wrote on that parchment, and they'll find a way to sever the mindlink.:

:And Hermione and Ron know, and could save them the time of trying to figure out what's gone wrong with us.:

:Exactly.:

:Oh, damn.:  I turned pages studiously, trying not to be too obvious about my left hand being clenched in my hair.  :So what's your suggestion?  You sound as though you have one.:

:Not really.  Just what I said before, start with letting them see a friendship develop.  And I mean develop, not burst into flower...we'd have to see less of each other for a bit.  Then let Ron and Hermione in, if we think they'll understand.:

:We...if we do, we should let them think the mindlink has faded.  If it hasn't by then.:

:I'm beginning to wonder about that.  Has it seemed to you that it's been getting stronger?:

:I hadn't really thought about it.:  I paused to do exactly that, pretending to be completely absorbed in a description of the magical properties of  North American death camas.  I tested the boundaries of my mind, probed at that part of it that since the potions incident always whispered dracodracodraco and concluded that yes, it had indeed strengthened.  :I hadn't noticed...I thought, when I thought about it, that it might be fading a bit since we could keep things from each other, or at the least you could keep things from me...:

:I think that's just practise.  And if you wanted to badly enough, you could do the same, but to be honest I kind of like it.  Even if it does seem a bit unfair at times, I like knowing what you're thinking.  It's...comforting.  I've never been able to trust anyone before, because I could never quite know what they were doing when I wasn't around.  With you I always know, and I'm always pleasantly surprised.:

I'd gained enough control that I managed not to blush, but I gave him a faint mental caress that made him shiver oddly.  :...So if it's not fading but growing stronger...do you really think it's possible that it might not pass?:  The idea first made me feel like my heart was swelling out throughout my entire body, making even my scalp tingle, but then became edged with the tiniest bit of fear.

:I'm—hoping.  It seems possible, yes.  I...I don't know for sure.  I don't know whether it would be a good or bad thing if it did.:  I glanced up;  he was staring at the grain of the table between us, not his book. 

:Why might it not be a good thing?:  I needed to hear him say what I could feel roiling just underneath his words.

:...I...I'm afraid—:  He stopped, then burst out in a rush, :I'm afraid you won't like me if you see too much of me.  If you see what I really am.:

:Draco—:  I reached out one hand across the table, possible spectators be damned, and lightly touched his where it clenched the top of his book white-knuckled.  :How could I not love you? I don't expect you to be perfect.  Gods above and below, I'M far from perfect.  What I've seen of you proves to me that you're more than I could rightfully have expected.  Of course you'll let me down sometimes, those things happen to everyone.  But you—how could I not like you?  Just continue as you've been as best you can, and I'll be more than satisfied.:

:But—:  He was as tortured now as he'd been last night, though the only outward signs of it were his bloodless knuckles and the subtle fact that he was trying to bite through his lip.  :But—I've hurt things—and people—and I've LIKED it.  I've LAUGHED.  And I'm supposed to be, I'm supposed to become—a—:

:A Death Eater.  Like your father, maybe even your mother for all I know.  I know that, Draco.  I also know you've not taken the Dark Mark yet.  I did spend quite a lot of time going over your entire body today, remember.:  Despite myself I felt a smirk coming on again, and repressed it fiercely.  :So you've not taken it.  DON'T DO IT.  It's not too late, Draco.  You've done those things, yes.  Would you do them again today?:

:No—:

:Tomorrow, then?  The day after?  Would you do them again and ENJOY it?:

:Gods, NO...:

:There.  That's all it needs.  You're not who you used to be, Draco.  You're more.  I don't care who you used to be.  I don't care what you've done.  I forgive you all that.  Look at me, Draco.:

Slowly, trembling and reluctant, he pulled first his face then finally his eyes to meet mine.  I tried as best I could to put my heart into my eyes.  :I FORGIVE YOU.  I believe in you.  I'm not asking you to change overnight, although actually you kind of have already but nevermind;  I'm not asking you to be perfect, I swear.  Just face NOW with me, Draco.  Forget about yesterdays.  I mean that.  You can't change the past, but you've got infinite possibilities for the future.:

He managed not to cry this time.  I squeezed his hand just a little, then returned to paging through my book for a while, giving him some space. 

Finally, a tiny whisper threaded into my mind. 

:Will you help me, Harry?:

I smiled as widely, as happily as I ever have. 

:Of course I will, love.: