A soft breeze blew through the open window and Colin took a deep breath, savoring the fresh summer evening air and the feel of the wind whistling though his hair. He was sitting on the large window seat, a fluffy pillow underneath him. His gaze, however, was not on the picturesque scene spread out before him from one of the higher levels of Malfoy Manor, but rather on the sleeping boy in the elevated bed just feet away.

Draco was beautiful in sleep, he decided. His bare chest was showing, the silk sheets having been kicked away in sleep, and Colin could see the muscular skin glowing slightly in wispy moonlight. The sight was so heartbreakingly breathtaking he could almost make himself believe that his fantasy was reality – almost. He leaned his head back to press lightly against the wall and stared openly, his heart constricting with a thousand thoughts.

He'd been here about a fortnight now, keeping mostly in Draco's rooms unless his parents were away, which in the case of Malfoy senior it was frequently. Narcissa Malfoy, however, was often home, and in these such times Colin kept himself confined in the bedroom; perhaps it was an unnecessary gesture, for the woman rarely strayed up to the fifth floor where Draco lived, but it gave him peace of mind.

An owl fluttered though the window, startling Colin, and he nearly gave a yell before remembering the sleeping boy in the room. Biting down on his tongue, he untied the scroll from the outstretched leg, giving the owl an affectionate pat as he did so. Draco had instructed his owl to only deliver messages for Colin at night, and Siri had done her job well so far.

The fluttering of wings, light as the sound was, lifted Draco out of his dreamlike sleep. Opening his eyes, he saw Colin unrolling the delivered parchment, and he watched as the boy read it. Observing Colin reading was like seeing the Auroras dancing in the night sky, he decided, and then immediately rolled his eyes, disgruntled at himself for such sappy thoughts.

It was true, though: the emotions would dance across Colin's face quickly; delight and fondness, laughter and sadness, and even once, the shadow of anger.

"News from home?" he asked, and in the silence of the room even his quiet tone sounded loud.

Colin started, turning his head quickly to look at him. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

Draco shook his head. "Not you. Siri."

"Oops," Colin whispered. "Yeah, news from home. Sort of. Dennis wrote me from summer camp."

"Looked like there were some interesting stories," Draco commented, stifling a yawn.

"What?" Colin looked startled.

"You don't have a very good poker face, Colin."

"Oh. Yeah, he was telling me about some of the practical jokes his friends were pulling on him. And how there's this one kid who likes to bully some of the little kids. He and his mates are planning something to get the kid to stop, although Dennis didn't say what." Colin paused. "I hope it's nothing dangerous."

"He'll be fine," Draco said. "Come back to bed."

Colin obeyed without hesitation. By now they'd both come to rely on the other's presence at night. Sleeping alone had lasted two nights before a nightmare – and Colin's subsequent calming effect on Draco – put an end to that.

Crawling into bed, Colin slipped under the covers and leaned against Draco's chest. He didn't speak, and soon the sound of steady deep breathing told Draco that the other boy was asleep.

"Colin?"

"Yes?"

Draco paused, on the verge of saying something, but changed his mind at the last second. "Never mind."

It was late morning, and they were lounging in bed still. Draco had no plans for the day, so he hadn't even made an attempt to leave the comfort of the covers. Colin certainly hadn't minded.

Colin was quiet, but Draco could hear the expectation in the silence. "I did go to the funeral."

"Oh?" Colin said as his hand randomly ran up and down Draco's arm.

"I don't know what to feel anymore. I mean, I still hate him. But for whatever reason, whether he did it on purpose or not – he helped me complete my mission."

"What do you mean?"

"That book he mentioned, Magical Carpentry? I found a copy. That's how I figured out how to fix the cabinet. I just keep thinking about how ironic it is, that he aided in his own demise."

There was a pause, then – "I'm grateful to Professor Snape," Draco mused, abruptly changing the topic. "He played up my pathetic attempts to complete the mission and how useful I was for the final confrontation to Him."

Colin didn't respond, simply continued to trace his chest, his stomach, his arms, slowly, carefully, almost as though teasing but when Draco looked at his face he could see Colin's thoughtful expression. "What are you thinking about?"

Colin blushed unexpectedly, and Draco quirked his eyebrow; Colin laughed in an embarrassed sort of way. "I was just thinking how – how your school robes hid your body."

"What a novel concept," Draco said mock sarcastically. "I wonder what would happen if I didn't wear my robes?"

Colin ignored his comment, although he gave a slight upturn of lips as he said, "Your body is impressively well built."

"I do work out," Draco muttered, somewhat flustered at the compliment.

Colin only grinned at him before placing his lips on Draco's well-defined abs; Draco closed his eyes and let the other boy explore with his mouth, surrendering to the simple pleasure of human touch.

A timid knock sounded a moment later. Draco growled. "Who is it?"

"Mimzy, young Master," a high pitched squeak sounded. "I is bringing you breakfast."

"Come," Draco commanded as he sat up.

The female elf entered and deposited a tray full of steaming food down before leaving with a bow.

"Thanks," Colin called after her. She squeaked with disbelief as the door shut behind her.

Draco sniffed. "Servants are not to be thanked," he said with a scowl.

"It's polite," Colin said. "Besides, if I treat them right, they won't betray my presence to your parents."

"They won't tell my parents because I asked them not to. I'm a Malfoy too; they have to obey."

"It's still polite to be polite."

Draco sighed and shook his head, but didn't respond as his attention turned to breakfast. "So what do you want to do today?"

"I want to spend some time outside."

"Mum's going shopping later – she doesn't like to send a house elf, Merlin knows why – and Father's left for the day already, so there will be some time we could go out."

"Can we fly?" Colin asked.

Draco grinned. "Ha! I got you hooked on flight."

Colin rolled his eyes but grinned back. "It seems so."

A couple of hours later they were airborne. Colin took a deep breath of fresh summer air, his arms tightly wrapped around Draco's waist, and smiled widely. It wasn't so much the exhilarating feeling of flight that had led him to choose this activity, but rather the way Draco seemed to glow as soon as they kicked off the ground. Seeing Draco so carefree made his heart contract with such an intense emotion and he thought for a moment he would combust with contentment.

Life, he thought, is good.

"Draco?" A soft knock sounded, and Draco immediately turned to look at Colin, who was carefully perched on the large windowsill, an open book in his lap. Colin looked back at him with a controlled panic and swiftly fled to the relative safety of the walk-in closet.

"Come in," Draco called, his face quickly falling into a practiced mask.

His Mother opened the door but didn't enter, remaining in the doorway as she spoke. "The Dark Lord has requested our attendance at a gathering this afternoon."

"How long will you be gone?"

"You'll be coming too, Draco." He could hear a feint tremor in her voice, though her face was quite impassive. "He has requested that all of us be present."

"Why?" Draco asked.

"No reason was given," she answered. "Be ready to go at a quarter to one."

"Yes Mum."

She gave him a fond smile that couldn't quite hide the apprehension in her eyes and then left, closing the door gently behind her.

Colin emerged carefully from the closet, his eyes wide with concern. Draco pretended not to notice and turned back to the schoolbook he'd been studying before the interruption.

He felt the bed dip as the other boy climbed on but ignored Colin's presence. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't even want to acknowledge the awful twisting in his stomach; and perhaps Colin understood, for he didn't say anything, and simply rested his hand on Draco's thigh and went back to reading.

The rest of the morning passed quick, much quicker than Colin wanted, but he knew his anxiety was nowhere near what Draco was feeling. "I'll be right here when you get back," he promised, as Draco moved to leave the room.

Draco snorted. "Thanks for stating the obvious."

"I'm good at it," Colin said. He walked over to where the other boy stood by the door, one hand touching the handle. "One for the road?"

It was like Draco had been waiting for him to ask. A low growl ripped from his throat as he pulled Colin to him and crashed their lips together. Colin could feel his desperation and responded in kind, and for a long moment there was hot breath and wandering hands and the heady pressure of lips –

And then Draco pulled away, breathing hard, a wild look in his eye that disappeared as he swept from the room.

Time seemed to pass slowly for Colin as he waited for Draco to return. He paced for awhile before reading more of his book, but wasn't able to concentrate for long before getting up to pace once more. At long last, nearly two hours later, he happened to see the three Malfoys returning as he passed by the window.

Draco walked up the stairs slowly, his thoughts churning. He'd almost forgotten the outside world and the brewing war. These past few weeks he'd spent with Colin had given him a sense of comfort, and dare he admit it, even some peace.

And now he'd been jolted back to a harsh reality he had to face – and face alone, he knew; from the events of the past year, he knew he'd never forgive himself if Colin got hurt or worse because of him. But to lose the comforting arms of the other boy –

"Hi." A low voice interrupted his thoughts as he entered his bedroom.

"He's moving in," Draco said without preamble. "In a few days. He's making our home his headquarters."

Colin blinked, confused; then comprehension filled his eyes. "Why?"

"Internal politics," he responded with great distaste. "Merlin, he has some decent ideas but…"

"But?" Colin prompted.

"I wish he wasn't so brutal to his own followers," Draco whispered. "But," he continued in a normal tone, "it will all be worth it in the end."

"Will it? Is your worldview really what's best for everyone?" Colin said carefully.

"Of course," Draco said forcefully. "In the meantime…"

"You're going to tell me to leave, aren't you."

Draco nodded, and Colin repeated the gesture in understanding, but didn't look happy about it, and he looked away. "I am," Draco started to say.

"No, I get it," Colin interjected. "It's just...are you going to be okay?"

"I don't know," Draco admitted softly. "But I feel more okay now than I would have been if…" He found he couldn't say the words but it didn't seem to matter; the unsaid knowledge was in the other boy's eyes as he lifted his gaze to meet Colin's.

The moment fell away when Draco moved to sit on the bed. Colin followed when Draco spoke. "I've never had anyone else live here. It's always been just me and my parents, as long as I can remember. We had relatives over occasionally for a night or two, but that's about it…and you, of course, but…" He knew his voice was shaking, revealing just how nervous he was about this latest development.

"What's your favorite ice cream?" Colin asked suddenly.

"What's my favorite ice cream?" Draco repeated disbelievingly. "I tell you – well, all that – and you ask what my favorite flavor of ice cream is?"

"Just answer the question."

"Fine." Draco threw his hands in the air. "It's cherry. Any flavor of cherry."

"Why cherry?"

At this, Draco turned red. He looked away.

"Oh this is intriguing," Colin said, grinning. "Come on, spit it out."

"If you must know," Draco said, crossing his arms, "when I was a kid I overheard a couple of teen age girls in the ice cream aisle debating over what flavor to buy. One wanted a mint kind, but the other went on about how she wanted the Cherry Popper because the first time she'd had it, it was bloody brilliant."

Colin tried hard but couldn't suppress his laughter. He doubled up, snorting.

"It's not that funny," Draco muttered, a bit mortified.

"Sorry," Colin choked out as he tried to get his breathing back to normal, "but it kind of is. That funny."

Draco cracked an embarrassed smile. "And it took me a few years to understand what she was talking about," he confessed.

"So – cherry is your favorite because of that conversation you overheard?"

"I don't know why, okay?" Draco covered his face with his hands, and his voice was slightly muffled when he spoke. "Call it memory association or whatever, but – yes."

"It's curious how memory influences us," Colin said thoughtfully. "Like – chocolate is my favorite because it reminds me of that incredible warmth that spreads through me when I eat it after I've been near a dementor. You'd think that the memory of dementors would discourage me from anything chocolate but it's had the opposite effect."

Draco flopped back on the bed, suddenly tired but no longer in panic mode; somehow, Colin's stupid ice cream question had calmed him down. "What do we do now?"

"What's coming will come. We'll worry about it when it does."

"Optimistic sap," Draco said, though without any real heat. "Look, I'm serious. You can't be here when He comes. It's not safe."

"It's not safe now," Colin pointed out, leaning back to rest next to him. "What if your Mum or Pop walk in right now? They'd catch me, with you."

"Why are you being so stubborn?" Draco threw out. "Look, I care about your safety, alright? I don't want you to get hurt! What my parents would do if they caught you is not what He would do!"

Colin looked at him, and he looked back defiantly.

And then Colin was kissing him, quickly, fiercely, and he was kissing back, and for a lingering moment a conversation held with lips but not spoken aloud took place.

"Okay," Colin whispered as they broke apart.

"Okay?" Draco asked.

"Okay," Colin repeated. "Are you sure – are you going to be okay?"

"I'll survive."

"I know you will."

Three days later, Colin's trunk was packed and he was anxiously waiting for Draco's parents to leave the Manor so that he could do the same. He paced the length of the bedroom that he had shared with Draco as he waited, his chest tight with melancholy nerves.

When Draco entered, Colin knew at once that there would be no heartfelt goodbye, no declaration of affection. His Slytherin's carefully practiced mask was on, and even Draco's eyes held no sign of the fondness Colin had seen over the summer.

"They're gone. Come." Draco turned and left the room, and Colin knew he was expected to follow. He dragged his trunk awkwardly along after the rapidly retreating figure. At the tall gates of the Malfoy Manor, Draco stopped and turned. There was a long moment where their eyes caught and held; and then Draco's gaze darted away. "Thank – thank you. For all that you've done for me."

His tone may have been cool, a practiced politeness that must have been drilled into him from a young age, but the stumble over the words and the way Draco wouldn't meet his eyes told Colin volumes. "You're welcome," he said sincerely. He held out his hand. After a moment, Draco took it in his own and even though he still wouldn't look directly at him, Colin understood the silent words that passed between them at the touch.

No goodbye was said.

One boy turned back to the mansion. The other walked through the gate, to the road, and flagged down the Knight Bus.

Neither boy looked back.