It was dark in the Department of Mysteries as Harry and his friends were chased by the Death Eaters. He was almost expecting the familiar nightmare, sure that he wouldn't get by with a night of dreamless sleep. The teenagers became surrounded, and Harry intentionally destroyed the prophecy. He prayed silently for those footsteps, Draco's foot steps, to come and rescue them once more. But they never came.

Harry's heart raced, anticipating the worst as the seconds ticked by in succession. Almost as if in slow motion, Lucius's wand began to rise and prepare for the killing curse that was to follow. Harry could hear his pulse throbbing in his head, but he couldn't seem to move. The wand was pointing straight at eye level now, and Lucius Malfoy's lips opened to speak when there was a loud crack behind all of them.

"Expelliarmus!" The voice of Draco Malfoy brought Harry back to real time. His father's wand flew laterally from his hand, leaving the man powerless. Harry stole a glance backward and viewed a very smug Draco, proud of himself and his deception.

Harry smiled, thankful to see that the bloke had arrived, somehow miraculously, in the nick of time. He could expect the rest of the dream to flow smoothly now; Draco would tell them to run, and Harry would awaken sweaty and confused. But that wasn't happening.

Harry at least expected someone to fire a curse, to try to take his friends' lives, but all was silent. It wasn't until he looked closer that he realized no one was moving. Time was at a standstill, frozen with Lucius Malfoy unarmed and his friends safe. Harry took a step forward, testing the waters to see if anyone else would react. Hermione's expression was a worried one, accompanied like stone by Ron's large eyes and gape. Luna's statuesque figure was next to Ginny's, and Neville surprisingly looked calm. All of the masked men were motionlessly pointing their wands at the group. In fact, The only one who wasn't frozen...was Draco.

"Harry," he started, in the same silky tone from the previous dream. "We will win this war." He took a step forward, closing the gap between them.

"Draco, I- I don't understand," Harry stammered, struggling to get his words out now that those grey eyes were upon him. "You're a Death Eater. I heard you talking to Snape. What happened?"

The blonde confidently sealed the space between them, placing himself so close to Harry that he could appreciate the minty fresh scent of Draco's breath. Just a bit taller, he peered down into green eyes that were hesitant and uncertain.

"You bloody Gryffindors are so rash," Draco whispered seductively, his face leaning impossibly close to Harry's.

"Everything isn't as it seems, you know." The Slytherin's expression was serious, intending for his message to stick.

A feeling of comfort washed over the raven haired boy. Draco's words, and his intimate closeness, were serene. Harry stared deeply into those eyes and knew that he told nothing short of the truth. The edges of his lips tugged into a smile, appreciating the moment. Draco's returning grin was enough to melt Harry indefinitely. He'd never realized just how beautiful the blonde was when he was happy. Especially when Draco was coming closer...closer...

Time remained frozen both literally and figuratively as Draco pressed his lips to Harry's. The Gryffindor surrendered fully, all doubt about the Slytherin's loyalty diminished. Being kissed was so different than kissing, and Harry had never felt more at home than here. Not even the Weasley's hospitality could compare to the innate feeling of belonging he reveled in while their lips were conjoined. Harry took a chance, slipping tongue discreetly to meet Draco's, and was welcomed with a returning warmth as Draco's grazed back across his own. Harry felt a giddiness bubble up within him, pushing out every dark feeling he'd ever known, rising and spreading throughout every inch of his body...

He awoke with a start, perspiration dripping from his brow. He'd of course expected to rise with a sweat, but for very different reasons than he was experiencing. The terror, the fear, the uncertainty; all of these emotions had been replaced by something eerily satisfying. Harry peered down at the sheets, realizing quickly that he had another problem...entirely to deal with.

"Fuck," he murmured to himself, breathing heavy with exhaustion and, somehow, desire.

Harry had never known himself to be gay, or into blokes at all for that matter, but he supposed he'd never truly considered it a possibility. And, with the "evidence" remaining from his dream still persisting, Harry had to admit there was little to deny. But...Malfoy? Of all people, Harry had a raging hard on for that two-faced, back stabbing, Dark Lord worshipping ferret? Harry shook his head, slipping out of bed quietly as not to wake the others and sneaked into the bathroom to destroy some evidence.

When he awoke again, it was from a dreamless sleep. Harry opened his eyes to a sunny Saturday morning. Perfect quidditch weather. Bollocks, Harry remembered, the Slytherin quidditch match was in just a few hours. Trying not to give too much thought to his mid-night situation, he dressed and headed down to breakfast.

Draco was one of the first to enter the Great Hall on Saturday morning, up bright and early for the Gryffindor Quidditch match. He was accompanied across the room by a few straggler Hufflepuffs, one of them he believed to be called Hannah, and none other than Luny Lovegood at the Ravenclaw table sporting that silly Gryffindor lion hat. It was a bit obnoxious, Draco thought, as no one was running around with a snake atop their head. He moved his thoughts to the poached eggs before him, taking a single bite before feeling two hands blindfold him from behind.

"Guess who?" A flirty giggle's attempt at surprise.

"I would say the clammy, cold hands of death, but I suppose I'd be wrong?" Draco replied, never missing a beat.

The hands were removed, placed on either hip of the perpetrator.

"Well, good morning to you, too, Draco."

Pansy Parkinson crossed around the table, sitting to face the blonde.

"Morning, Pans." He smiled at her. Draco had to admit that the company was nice. He'd been a bit of a loner the past few weeks, and Pansy's voice was welcoming.

She grinned mischievously. "Are you ready to slaughter the Gryfindorks?"

Draco gulped. He wasn't particularly looking forward to today's match. To be honest, Quidditch only held The seeker's interest when it involved provoking Potter. This season hadn't been so keen on that objective, and Draco was made bored.

Not that Slytherin wasn't absolutely kicking ass; Draco had caught the snitch every game thus far and brought his team to victory.

Today's match was different, though. This time, he'd be competing against Potter, whom up until recently he'd believed he'd hated. Draco's new mindset this term had shifted his focus to larger things than school rivalry, and he'd become complacent to the usual bickering. His rage had lessened to apathy, and even with his recent frustration at Potter's accusations, he still didn't hate the bloke.

In fact, when their eyes had locked yesterday, Draco had felt...different. He hadn't had time to fully analyze the situation without emotion as he normally would, but something in his gut knew that there was change between them.

"Yeah, I'm always ready to kick Gryffindor arse," he replied, taking a sip of his juice.

"Speaking of which," said Pansy, turning around in her seat, "look who's up early."

Potter had just entered the great hall, looking exceptionally average. He didn't appear to be exhausted, nor excited as he began to eat his breakfast across the room.

Draco tried not to linger on the Chosen One any longer than necessary; he didn't want to fuel the confusion. Pansy quickly gained Draco's attention as she rested her chin in both hands and leaned across the table.

"So," She said, barely above a whisper, "Have you thought any more about the prediction I made?" She eyed him seductively, in that Pansy-Ish way that made Draco's skin crawl.

Completely off-guarded, Draco made a face that must have looked utterly disgusted because Pansy's next reaction was priceless. Her expression, within a fraction of a second, molded from teenage temptress to a scrunched up pug nose.

"Geez, Draco, you act like I'm contagious or something!" And then she stamped away.

Still trying to process what had just happened, Draco wore a dumbfounded expression when he felt a pair of eyes watching him. Instinctively, he glanced up to see Potter looking straight at him. And, it was hard to tell because he was across the room, but Draco swore he saw him smile.