Harry found himself enticed by the grace of Draco's hands gliding down the small of his back. It was a gentle movement, longing but patient. His lips found Draco's, joining and pressing as if they'd been waiting a hundred years to do so. Draco's mouth opened invitingly, and Harry slipped his tongue inside. All the while Draco's hands were sliding anteriorly. Harry placed his own hands on either side of Draco's face, begging him not to let go. He responded by moving lower, lower, until Harry felt the zipper on his pants pull open and the cool comfort of a hand inside. Harry continued to snog the boy but moved his hands, unable to grip at the pleasure Draco was instilling. He moaned accordingly, ecstasy welling up within him. Draco smiled, continuing to please Harry in an action so selfless that all he wanted to do was return the favor...

Harry woke up in a sweat, as always, and headed to the washroom.

His dream had left him even more confused than before. Harry had finally found proof that Malfoy was everything he shouldn't want, and yet he was the only thing on his mind. With everything at stake, Harry decided that the only right decision would be to force Draco from his thoughts indefinitely. Even if Dumbledore trusted him, Harry couldn't. So he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast alone, beginning to think of himself as a traditional early riser. As he swallowed his breakfast, he didn't glance at the Slytherin table. Not even once.

Draco was particularly curious to see how today's events would play out. He contemplated the likelihood of Potter being at breakfast so early before class, only to find that he was already seated at the Gryffindor table across the Hall. He inhaled sharply at the sight of the boy, who seemed completely absorbed with his breakfast. As he buttered his own toast, Draco searched for those emerald eyes to meet his own. But they never faltered from the meal in front of their owner. Confused, Draco passed Harry's self absorption off as the bloke not being an early riser. When he watched him finish and walk hastily from the room without a glance in his direction, however, he began to wonder if something deeper was occurring.

If he was self absorbed at breakfast, now Harry looked downright uncomfortable. Draco had just observed the boy take his seat next to Granger in potions. The look of concern on his best friend's face confirmed Draco's suspicion that something was very wrong. Even from across the room, the boy's demeanor was a cross between depressed and irate. What had happened?

Slughorn began lecturing on the healing properties of the lotus flower and how it could be applied to different revival potions. Draco was barely listening, his focus dedicated solely to the boy who up until a few days ago meant nothing to him. Now, his stomach was in knots with worry. Of all the scenarios he'd played out in his daydreams, this one had never occurred to him. Harry didn't appear to be paying anymore attention to the Slug than Draco was, although his focus seemed to be pitted on anything except Draco. He glanced around the room, fidgeting in his seat nervously. Draco watched him, curious. Not once had their eyes met today.

Harry seemed to have dropped something- his quill, perhaps?- on the floor. He bent over accordingly, retrieving the object, and attempted to return to gazing about aimlessly. When he rose from the floor, however, the inevitable occurred. Harry's head snapped up, and green met silver. Time froze, just as every moment had before in both dream and reality. For a moment, the edges of Draco's lips began to form a smile. His heart pounded, anticipating Harry's next step. That was when Harry, who just yesterday would have returned that smile willingly, snapped his head in the opposite direction with an attitude that told Draco to go straight to hell. Draco stalled, his stomach dropping what felt like several meters into his gut. What had he done?

For the first time in his life, Draco felt the pain of rejection. He gulped, and there was a sticking sensation in his throat. Were those...tears he was choking on?

Oh, no. There was no way, Malfoy heir or not, that he would be caught blubbering in the middle of potions class. He tried to breathe, but that too was stuck somewhere near his adam's apple. He looked from side to side, processing the situation at hand, before making the split decision to get the fuck out of there. Blaise looked at him questioningly as he rose from his seat, turning to chance one last look at Potter before exiting the classroom. He left his things, unsure of what exactly was to follow such an action. Sure enough, Potter was staring straight at him, still appearing angry as ever but with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Draco didn't dare glance back; he left without so much as a turn of Professor Slughorn's head.

Draco entered the boy's washroom, in desperate need of some privacy. He wasn't sure what exactly had caused him to react so largely to a simple rotten look. Even if it did belong to Saint Potter. Approaching the mirror, Draco studied himself intricately. His face was red, partly from frustration but mostly from embarrassment. Tears that were stuck behind his orbits seemed to flow freely now that he was alone. He had never been one to cry in the past; his father had trained him at a young age to be stoic. Malfoy's didn't cry. Malfoy's never lost their composure. And here was Draco, about the farthest thing from what a Malfoy should be at the moment, watching himself sob.

He was sobbing because in changing alliances, he was going to lose everything. He was sobbing because in spite of it all he was going to miss his mother dearly. He was sobbing because in all actuality, Harry had saved him from more than just a fall. The boy himself had become some what of a beacon of hope to Draco in just a short amount of time. Harry wasn't just Harry, he was the side Draco was now a part of. He was the future, exciting and nerve-wracking but scary all the same. Draco wanted to hold him, to discover the scent of his messy black hair beneath where his chin would rest. He needed re-assurance that his values were indeed the right ones; that his choices would not befall him. And all of this came crashing down on Draco, a weight no wizard should bear but that the blonde held regardless. And somehow, despite the rejection and the desperate need for security, Draco had felt never felt more sure about anything in his entire life as he was at that moment about his feelings for Harry Potter.

He took a deep inspiration, trying to piece himself back together before anyone happened to barge in. Another breath, and Draco must've not heard the creaking of the washroom door because when he glanced upward to see his reflection there was another person behind him. The last person he was expecting to see.

"Don't make eye contact. Do not make eye contact. For the love of God do NOT look at him." Harry's thoughts reverberated throughout every surface of his skull. He attempted to focus on Professor Slughorn's lecture but failed miserably as he felt his eyes scatter in all other directions. It had been extremely difficult to avoid glancing In Malfoy's direction at breakfast that morning, and it was even more challenging now that they shared a class together. Unfortunately, there was no better way to break this emotional bondage that had somehow been developed toward Draco. Even the thought of his name, his first name, caused a twinge of pain within the deep seed of Harry's gut. How had this happened, and so quickly?

Fuck it. Harry decided to at least try and record some notes on the lotus flower. Merlin knows his marks could use the improvement. He opened his text book, accidentally knocking his feathered quill onto the floor next to him. Bollocks, today was going to be a long one. He leaned over in his chair, reaching forward to grasp the quill. When he picked up his head, however, note taking became out of the question. Everything inside of him that had worked toward building a barrier for Draco collapsed into one big heap as their eyes locked simultaneously. Harry's breath caught in his chest, and he wondered how in the hell a simple look could knock the wind from him. Those eyes were everything from Harry's dream, honest and hopeful and reciprocative. He felt his heart tug, wanting so badly to believe that this weekend hadn't happened. But, it had. And that letter was real. And Harry couldn't give in to the smoldering that was so heavily upon him...

He snapped his head forward, determination setting in. "Be strong," he reminded himself. But then, he heard a chair scoot out from his right, and he glanced to see that Malfoy had risen from his seat. Immediately, Harry's gaze shifted back to the blonde. It was obvious that Malfoy was about to run from something, but from what exactly? Harry studied him closely, but it wasn't until he turned to leave the classroom that Harry noticed those gray irises were glassy with tears. As if his destructed barrier wasn't enough, Harry felt all strength to keep from the boy deteriorate. Every fiber within his being ached to reach out to Draco. Seeing him so raw, so absolutely un-Malfoy, aroused Harry in more ways than one. He needed to talk to him, to sort these feelings out. Because there was no way the boy that had stalked from the room twenty seconds ago had written that ominous letter. This was the Draco that Harry needed, that he had to believe in. And this time, he wasn't going to give up until he knew this boy's story.

Leaving a ruffled and concerned Hermione, Harry discreetly exited the room.

"Draco." Harry began, breaking the silence between them.

Draco whipped around to face him, anger spreading through him like wildfire. "What do you want, Potter? Come to get a good laugh, did you?"

Defenseless, Draco knew that he'd been caught broken. He could only hope that Potter would keep his secret. Evil or not, he had a reputation to uphold.

"No, of course not." Harry spoke slowly, as if he was afraid that Draco might snap at any moment. Recognizing the sincerity, Draco felt his posture relax. He propped himself against the sink, facing Harry openly. Here, with maybe 6 feet between them, there was nowhere to hide. He could run, but why would he? He'd just feel the same disastrous pull towards Potter that he'd felt this entire time, and they'd end up right here again.

"Why did you come here?" Draco braved the first question, signaling his willingness to have this conversation. Harry too felt himself relax a little.

"Because I had to. Because something inside me won't rest until I know you. Because I need answers, Draco. I don't know what's happening here, but I know that you feel it. What's killing me is, how could you? How could you make me feel this way, and be what you are?"

"What I am?" Draco felt himself tense again at the accusation. "And what exactly do you think I am?"

"I know about the plans you have with your father. I know that you're working with Voldemort. And I don't know exactly what that is yet, but I know enough to know that I shouldn't be anywhere near you. And yet, here I am."

"You Gryffindors really need to learn to check your facts, you know." Draco spat, annoyed. Harry's eyes widened at the sudden deja vu of this moment, resonating from his words. "I know you've been following me all term. I've known what you thought of me for a while now. And the least shocking part of it all is that you know nothing."

"Nothing? Then tell me, Draco, what were you and Snape talking about on the astronomy tower?" Harry felt his voice rising with passion.

"What the- how did you know about that?" Draco paled uncomfortably.

"I have my ways." Harry paused and then sighed. This conversation would go nowhere on this track. "I used my invisibility cloak to spy on you," he elaborated, honest.

"What did you hear?" Draco pried, trying to understand the depth of Harry's knowledge.

"I heard Snape offering you help with something. I figured it was to bring something into the castle to hurt Dumbledore or one of the students. I have something of yours." Harry reached into his bag and pulled out Draco's most favored plume.

Draco eyed Harry suspiciously before reaching out and taking it. "Why the fuck do you have my quill?" He was more confused than anything, trying to piece the puzzle together for himself.

"You left it in the library. I used a spell to see what you'd written with it. I found that you were passing notes to someone about smuggling something into the dungeons."

At this, Draco smirked. He even let out a light chuckle, and, surprisingly felt his anger at the Chosen One begin to thaw. Fingering his feathered quill, his eyes remained fixed upon his hands as he took his turn. "You've really got it all figured out, don't you, Potter?" He grinned sheepishly, shaking his head left to right.

"I thought I did," was Harry's response, his face stone serious. "But something hasn't been adding up this whole time. Because in the midst of it all, you've been different. You're still you, but something's changed. I haven't been able to put my finger on it."

He took a step closer, braving the space between them. Draco dropped his quill.

"It doesn't make sense, you doing those things. Sometimes I feel like I know you better than I know Ron and Hermione, but lately that hasn't been true. So, I need to know, Malfoy. Whose side are you on?"

Draco froze, jaw dropping. He certainly hadn't been expecting this. He had no answers prepared, no facade constructed. Silence rang between them as Draco failed to answer. Harry took another step closer.

"Okay, maybe that's too much," he started, pacing himself, "Who were you passing notes with?"

Draco softened once more, easily able to rebut. "Blaise."

Harry nodded, but before he could ask something else, Draco interjected: "Firewhiskey."

Confused, Harry wore a lost expression as he glanced at Draco curiously.

"That's what we smuggled into the Slytherin common room."

Now, Harry's jaw dropped. Firewhiskey? Voldemort's dark plan was smuggling Firewhiskey into a common room full of hell bent teenagers? And that's when he knew Draco was telling the truth, whatever the situation. Because somehow Harry had overlooked the obvious. Draco... was innocent.

Draco must've noticed the understanding as it washed over Harry's face. "Harry, I..." he trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry...Draco," Harry continued for him. "For everything. For spying on you. For making assumptions."

Draco stared willingly into those green eyes, stomach flipping. "It's not like I haven't been shady, I suppose," replied Draco, remembering the Weasel's words. "But Harry, there's something you should know."

"What is it?"

"I'm sorry. For what my father did to you last year. For everything."

Harry was speechless, the apology worth a thousand unspoken words. He took another step forward, leaving only a few feet between them now.

"You are not your father." It wasn't a question, but a statement from Harry's lips. Draco's heart began to race, thudding violently at the sentiment of his words. It made him want to vomit honesty, hold nothing back from the boy whom Draco wanted to bridge the gap between...

"It's a set up," Draco volunteered, though he knew he wasn't supposed to. "The letter. It's all a set up."

Harry's eyes widened once more, comprehension dawning on him like it never had before. "Bloody hell, Draco, you're... you're good!"

Draco couldn't help but snicker. "I wouldn't go that far, Harry." He looked at his feet, but when his head resurfaced, he saw Harry's returning smile.

"Well, I uh..." Harry scratched the back of his head nervously. "I guess I owe you an even bigger apology."

"Save it. You're here, aren't you?"

There was a silence between them, the air shifting from quiet acceptance to a questionable new beginning. What would happen next?

"Yes. I am." Harry took another step forward, leaving a single foot between them. Draco took in a sharp breath, anticipation taking over. Everything that they'd felt up until this moment seemed to climax as Harry gazed deep into Draco's eyes. Harry was unwavering, a rock that, now armed with answers, refused to falter. Draco lifted his chin, preparing to speak.

"What do you think this is?" He questioned, referring to the electricity that seemed to ignite the air between them.

"I'm not sure," Harry answered, "but I feel it too. And the odd part is, the part I've been struggling with, is that I've been wanting to feel it. It now feels empty when you're not around, Draco. It's been fast, but this is something I know. I don't want to go at life without you now."

Draco smirked again, relief settling deep within his bones at Harry's proclamation. "I didn't know you were gay, Potter."

"Shut up before I hex you." Harry closed the gap between them, just inches remaining now. The two stood there, smiling stupidly at the wild turn of events before them. Falling deeper into whatever it was that had brought them to this moment. Draco knew it was his turn to speak, but his voice was lost somewhere in the warmth that was spreading from head to foot. Harry had been here so many times before, but only in a dream, and reality was much more breath taking.

"Harry, I..." Draco began, and then a look of seriousness transformed his face. His expression wasn't negative, but reassuring, and Harry understood that Draco was just as invested as he. Harry was about to say something, he wasn't sure what exactly, when he felt Draco's palm press against his right cheek. His fingers smoothed over the surface of Harry's skin, and Harry reveled in how whole he now felt.

"Draco, I-" he started, but was curtly interrupted by the Slytherin's lips pressing firmly upon his. They were kissing, oh my god, they were kissing, and Harry had never felt so serene. He was suffocated by the immense pleasure washing over him as Draco's hands moved superiorly, knotting in locks of messy black hair. Harry placed his hands on either side of Draco's waist, pulling him closer so that they were chest to chest. Harry felt a tingling sensation somewhere down low, dreams finally becoming reality. Draco responded by slipping his tongue discreetly into their kiss, meshing with Harry's and creating something beautiful. Draco had fought his entire life for a sense of home, and, somehow, he had found it in the middle of the school washroom. Harry leaned into the kiss, continuing to latch to Draco fervently. He needed him, now more than ever. How he had ever survived without this kiss was its own mystery. All he knew was that here, now, with his arms wrapped around Draco Malfoy, was where he was meant to be. The two separated briefly, continuing to grasp each other but hovering a few inches apart to catch breath. Draco and Harry both were panting, partly from lack of oxygen but mostly from excitement. Draco grinned at him, that adorable smile that melted Harry's insides.

"I still hate you, you know," he stated playfully, rubbing a hand along the back of Harry's neck.

Harry chuckled, senses awry from Draco's touch. "I hate you more."

And then they were kissing again, two parts whole. Harry ran his hands along the length of Draco's spine, leaving a trail of goose pimples in their wake. Harry's touch reverberated like sound waves throughout his body, traveling high and, well, low. Draco felt a stir in his nether regions, passion turning to desire as their kiss became heated. Subconsciously, he pressed his pelvis into Harry's and immediately felt the boy shudder.

"Merlin, Draco," Harry paused, and Draco planted a kiss just below his jaw line.

"Sorry," He tilted his head downward, kissing the hollow base of Harry's throat softly. "I'm new at this."

"You're not the only one who's new at this," Harry assured him, memories of Cho flashing through his mind. Their kiss had been brief, and uncomfortably wet, and everything Draco's hadn't been. Draco lifted his head to meet Harry's gaze.

"Harry, please. When we leave here. Don't forget about me." Harry could hear tones of desperation in his voice. He tilted forward, leaning his forehead to Draco's.

"I'm not going anywhere without you." He promised, touching his lips to Draco's gently. "Especially back to potions."

Draco chortled. "Fuck, you almost made me forget."

With one last moment of locked lips, the two prepared to head back to Slughorn's class as inconspicuously as possible.

Draco entered first, a smug look upon his face that made Blaise wonder who he'd slept with in the past half hour.

Harry was next, looking quite the same, spilling a quick lie to Hermione about the eggs from that morning not sitting too well. Slughorn was luckily facing the chalk board, too absorbed in his own lesson to catch wandering students. Hermione eyed Harry for the remainder of class, ruminating on the possibilities regarding his absence. She was clever, and Harry knew this, but he was a bit overconfident at the moment. Slughorn had just placed his bit of chalk down on the board rail, signaling the end of lesson, when a thought occurred to her. Her pupils widened, and she felt a blush creep to her cheeks as she glanced between her friend and his nemesis. They were grinning at each other.