A/N: Last chapter, folks! It's been a blast! Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews, and for taking time out of your busy schedules to read my work; I hope you enjoyed yourselves!

Just a warning: extreme fluff abounds in this last installment. I can't seem to write anything without it turning into a fluff-ball by the end. I hope this doesn't bother you.

As always, please review, and please let me know of any mistakes, grammatical or otherwise. Thank you in advance, and thank you again for reading!

Disclaimer: No matter how many times I sit in front of a mirror and scrunch up my nose, I can't seem to turn into J. K. Rowling.

CHAPTER FOUR

There was no sign of either Pansy or Nott in the common room when I returned, but the post-fight tension still lingered. Dim wisps of smoke hung around the ceiling. A couple of cushions sported large gashes, where their stuffing poked out in jagged tufts. Three of the chairs were missing legs, not including the one I'd seen earlier. A lone shoe hid in the shadow underneath a windowsill.

The few people I could spot in the room were whispering cautiously amongst themselves, holding their homework in their laps so as to look busy if the ex-couple should choose to reappear. When I stepped inside, every head in the room snapped up. Once they had ascertained that it was only me, they returned to their gossiping. The fact that Pansy could incite more fear in them than I could was a small, yet saddening, blow to my ego.

I found Hayes in Pansy's fairness corner.

"What happened?" I asked.

He shook his head, his eyes hollow. "She turned him into a toad," he said tonelessly. "A friend took pity on him and carried him up to the hospital wing about an hour ago."

I winced. "And Pansy?"

"She disappeared. Nobody knows where she is." Abruptly, he shuddered. "For Merlin's sake, human transfiguration is supposed to be difficult! A-and she did it just like... like that." He tried to snap his fingers, but they were shaking too much to make any sound.

"Unfortunately, Pansy doesn't seem to follow the basic expectations of magic," I said wryly, trying to comfort him.

Hayes didn't respond; he had gone back to staring at his knees and every so often twitching.

Because there wasn't anything I could do, I promptly forgot about Pansy. Listless and confused, I ambled up the boys' staircase, down the hallway, and through the door of my dorm. Blaise was the only one there. I could see his feet sticking out behind from the edge of his partially-closed bed curtains. Sighing noisily, I collapsed onto my own bed, face down.

"What's wrong with you?" Blaise inquired.

"Nothing," I replied into the pillow.

A light snort came from his direction. "Yeah. Right. What happened?"

I sat up and stared at the foot of my bed as I spoke. "Well, I just met Potter at the Quidditch pitch. Not on purpose or anything. I just happened to be out walking, and he was flying, and he saw me from the air. So we talked for a bit, and–"

Since I hadn't been looking at Blaise, I missed his pointed look and frantic arm-waving. A moment later, I was wishing desperately that I hadn't.

"You what?"

A shrill screech erupted from the side of Blaise's bed, and Pansy leaped up, her eyes blazing. I nearly fell over in shock. Blaise closed his eyes, a pained look on his face.

"Pansy, is it really the best idea for you to be shouting right now?" he asked.

"Is it really the best idea for you to be shouting period?" I cut in. "You're going to effectively destroy the hearing of all those within earshot! What are you doing back there?"

Pansy shrugged innocently. "Hiding."

"From?"

Blaise shot me a withering look. "Who do you think?"

"Nott," I grumbled, shaking my head.

"Well, he's bound to be furious at me!" Pansy said peevishly. "I mean, sure, I did turn him into a toad, but it wasn't on purpose!"

"Sometimes I really think she should have her wand rights revoked," muttered Blaise. I nodded fervently.

"So I figure the first thing he'll do when Pomfrey puts him right again is to come look for me," Pansy went on, "because, doubtless, he'll want to get back at me for the toad thing, so I decided I'd better hide and I came right up here."

"Pansy..." I said slowly. "Pansy, this is Nott's dorm too."

The girl grinned maniacally. "Oh, I know," she said. "That's why it's so brilliant; it's the last place he'd ever think to look."

Blaise and I exchanged incredulous looks. Again, Pansy ignored us.

"But that's not the point," she continued, flapping an impatient hand in our direction. "When did you start talking to Potter, and why was I not informed immediately?"

I cringed, waiting for the rest of her outburst, but it never came. When I opened my eyes, Pansy was sitting calmly on Blaise's bed, her hands folded demurely over her lap. Blaise inched away from her in horror.

"I- I don't believe it," he stuttered. "Where's the explosion?"

"Maybe this is what they call 'the calm before the storm,'" I suggested.

"Oh. So when do you reckon the storm'll get here?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, would you two stop acting like I'm an angry hippogriff?" Pansy cried. "I'm not angry! Well, alright, I am a little bit nettled that you didn't even bother to tell me, but I suppose you must have had your reasons."

Blaise leaned forward to grab her by the shoulders. "Pansy, this is Harry Potter we're talking about. Harry Potter." He shook her slightly for emphasis. "Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

"I'm not daft, Blaise," Pansy reprimanded sharply. "Although I'm starting to think you might be. You can't honestly think I haven't caught on. After all these years–"

"Wait, you knew?" Blaise looked startled.

"Well, of course! It wasn't exactly difficult to see. I mean, honestly! Who's the one person who always manages to get under Draco's skin? Who's the one who can always rile him up without fail, even when no one else ever can? Who's the one who's always seems to bother Draco the most, for reasons that don't make sense to any of us? Who has he talked and whined and moaned about for the past seven years?"

"Wow. When you put it that way, I can almost see..." Blaise frowned. "But still, I would have thought you'd be more... I don't know, vocal about it, if you knew."

"Even I can tell when Draco isn't ready to hear something. And you know he wouldn't have listened anyway, even if we had tried to tell him."

"Tried to tell me what?" I asked, working my way back into the conversation. Neither of them spared me a glance.

"You reckon Potter's figured it out, then?"

"Probably. What else could he be doing?"

"You never know. Those Gryffindors have strange reasons for everything."

"True."

"Wait, what has Potter figured out?" I asked, raising my voice. It didn't do any good.

"Do you think they've talked about it yet?"

"I'm not sure, Pans. I don't reckon Draco would be upset about something if they had. He said something was wrong not ten minutes ago, if you recall."

"I do. Maybe they had a tiff."

"WE DID NOT HAVE A TIFF!" I shrieked. "I'm annoyed because I haven't got a clue why Potter suddenly decided to chat with me at every possible opportunity, and it's driving me insane, and I can't stop thinking about it, and would someone please explain what the hell you're talking about?"

That got their attention. For half a second they stared at me as if I'd just spoken Martian. Then, so quickly that I almost didn't see it, Pansy was on her feet. Cat-like, she stalked over to my bed and stopped to appraise me. She tilted her head slowly from side to side, and then leaned forward until her nose was only centimeters from mine.

"What?" I asked.

Her eyes narrowed. "You've been seeing him for how long?"

My heart skipped a beat. "I've been speaking with him since last Saturday," I replied, amending her original question, "So about two weeks, I guess. Why?"

"Hmm," was her only answer. She continued to study me.

"Look, either say what you want to say or get out of my face," I snapped. "Actually, get out of my face anyway."

Rolling her eyes, she pulled back and said, "So you don't know why he started talking to you. Have you asked him?"

"Asked him?" I repeated, blinking with confusion. "Um, no. I guess I haven't."

"Then you shouldn't be complaining," said Pansy firmly. "You should ask him."

"Ask him what? Do you honestly expect me to just walk up and say 'sorry to bother you, Potter, but I was wondering why it is you're talking to me in the first place'?"

"Yep."

Groaning, I dropped my head into my hands.

"Really, Drake, it's the only thing to be done," Blaise said in his most comforting tone.

"You can't go on denying yourself forever" Pansy added. "Given the facts... And we all know your preferences, after you and Blaise–"

I jerked forward, waving my hands frantically in an attempt to shut her up, but Blaise got there first. He threw a pillow at her head.

"I thought we agreed never to talk about That!" he hissed, glaring at her.

"Oh, we did, didn't we?" Pansy furrowed her brow in feigned concentration. "Oops."

"Pansy, you promised!" Blaise reprimanded.

"And what does That even have to do with this conversation?" I cried.

Pansy sighed. "Draco, honey, just talk to Potter," she said gently, but with a hint of exasperation.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Pansy and Blaise exchanged a significant glance.

"She's right," said Blaise. "Just do it."

I groaned again. "You two make absolutely no sense!" I proclaimed. "What is this? Did you all decide that today was the day you'd act like you'd lost their minds and forget to tell me? Well, the joke's up. I've caught on now. This is where you all laugh and clap me on the back and go back to acting like normal people!"

Neither of them said a word. Their expressions told me that they thought I was having a fit, and they always dealt with such situations by acting as if I didn't exist. I stared at them in disbelief.

"This is insane!" I decided at last. "Right. Right, you know what?" I stood up. "I'm leaving."

"Okay," said Pansy indifferently.

Fighting the urge to throw something, I stormed from the room.

I was out of the Slytherin common room before I'd even thought about where I was going. After pacing for a few minutes outside of the entrance to Slytherin, I made up my mind to go to the library and hastily set off. I almost knocked a first year down when I barreled through the door. Striding directly to the back, I found a table near a window and sat down hard.

Pansy and Blaise were completely ridiculous! What was all that rubbish about needing to talk to Potter? And what about Pansy's list of reasons for seeing whatever she claimed to have seen? Had my friends noticed something about me that even I had failed to see?

Or was it something that I had refused to see?

Frowning, I sat back in my chair, crossed my arms, and began go over the facts.

Potter had been bothering me more than anything else in the past two weeks. Admittedly, the first time he had spoken to me, I had listened because I was curious. I had wanted to know why he had sat down next to me in the first place. But throughout that conversation, and every one that followed, he never said what I wanted to hear, and I never asked him. And yet, the idea of not talking with him had perturbed me. If he didn't speak to me in passing, I worried that he wouldn't ever again, and that scared me. Subconsciously, I wanted to see him.

Potter made me feel flustered. Whenever I was talking to him, I seemed to lose control over what I was saying, and I would babble on about anything, just to keep us talking. Strangely enough, I seemed to like our bizarre conversations – I might even go so far as to say I looked forward to them. I always left them feeling happy in an odd, inexplicable way. And not only that, but I was actually interested in hearing what he had to say. I liked to see him smile and hear him laugh. Simply put, I enjoyed Potter's company.

I had begun to look for him whenever I knew he would be near, and if he didn't look at me too, I felt hurt. In my spare time, I'd begun to sketch him. Twice. And I was embarrassed when he asked to see the drawing, even though I'm normally the least humble person you could ever imagine. When I began to worry that our friendship wasn't really real, I was worried because I wanted to be friends with him. I wanted to see him, and talk to him, and laugh with him.

Then it hit me. I sat up so fast that my back cracked in four places.

I was in love with Harry Potter.

That puzzled me. I had only been on speaking terms for what... fifteen days? Sixteen, if I was being exact. How on earth had I managed to fall in love in sixteen days?

But then, maybe it hadn't developed in so short a time. Maybe I had always been rather preoccupied with Harry. Maybe I had always wanted to talk to him, just to know what he was like. Maybe I had always wanted him to like me, or speak to me, or in the very least acknowledge me. Maybe that was why I always fought with him; because it was the only way I knew of that I could get a reaction from him.

Maybe that was why I had refused to let myself think. Maybe I had known that I loved Harry all along.

I stood up and began to pace around the table. Enough maybes. Now that I knew the truth, what was I going to do about it? Was I really going to talk to him?

Yes, I knew that I was. Pansy and Blaise had been right. I had to. There was just too much going on: Harry suddenly developing an interest in a friendship; Granger seeming to know more than she would admit. I had a notion that if I talked to Harry, a good deal of what had been bothering me would be explained. At least, I would be able to figure out whether my slightly irrational fears of being used were correct. Anything else would just be extra.

But when was I going to ask him? Today? God, no! I shuddered involuntarily; that was much too soon. Perhaps tomorrow...

Yes, tomorrow it was. I would talk to Harry tomorrow.

When I went back to the common room and plodded up to my dorm, Pansy and Blaise said nothing. This didn't trouble me at all. I simply fell onto my bed with a shockingly loud thud and proceeded to fall asleep until dinner.

The next day, I avoided Harry. At breakfast, I purposefully kept my eyes focused on the Slytherin table. In Charms, I sat near the front of the room and listened to Professor Flitwick raptly. In Herbology, I threw myself into the work we were doing: potting one of those plants that only bloom at night (this one had poisonous stingers and gave off fumes which could knock you out for a week if you inhaled them).

In the Great Hall, I was so self-absorbed that I didn't notice that Pansy had come to lunch for the first time in nearly a week. In fact, I wouldn't have noticed if Blaise hadn't poked me in the back of the head.

"Draco, pay attention now," he ordered. Reluctantly, I looked up.

Pansy had just entered the room with Nott at her shoulder. Blaise and I stared, utterly bewildered, as she flounced up to where we were sitting, pulling Nott along by the hand.

"Hello, my dears," she said cheerfully, dropping into a seat next to Blaise. Nott stood by her, looking unsure.

"Um, is it alright? If I sit with you?" he asked Blaise and me hesitantly.

"Oh, of course it's alright, darling," Pansy said, yanking him down into the empty seat next to her. Then she turned to us, a stern look on her face. "Boys, Theodore is going to sit with us today."

Blaise's jaw dropped. "P-Pansy, w-w-what... y-you..." He spluttered, and then spoke no more. I took it upon myself to finish the question for him.

"Pansy, what's going on?"

Pansy grinned. "Well, Theodore and I met in the common room last night, and we had a little chat, and everything is now perfectly settled."

I glared at her. "In other words, you hooked up."

Her grin widened. "I suppose you could call it that, if you were vulgar and crass. I prefer to call it 'reaching an agreeable understanding.'"

"You would," Nott muttered, smiling slightly. Pansy reached over to take his hand, her eyes warm. Blaise choked.

Shaking my head, I looked up to see the entire Slytherin student body watching us in terror. Those sitting closest to us were moving away as quickly as they could without looking suspicious. It was almost amusing, in a strange sort of way. On instinct, I glanced around the rest of the room to see if anyone else had spotted the chaos at the Slytherin table.

Harry was watching me. As soon as we made eye contact, he pointed to Pansy and furrowed his brow in a nonverbal question. I shrugged and rolled my eyes. He smiled. Then I remembered what I planned to do later, and looked down again in a hurry.

Pansy and Nott walked to Defense Against the Dark Arts hand-in-hand. Again, I sat close to the front of the room, knowing that it would be harder to find an excuse to turn around and look at Harry. I took careful, highly-detailed notes to keep my mind from wandering, and practiced the spell we were learning with Blaise, because Pansy and Nott had paired up almost immediately. No matter where Blaise and I stood, I always faced the front of the room.

By the time my free period rolled around, I was particularly antsy. As soon as we left Professor Boyens's room, I told Blaise and Pansy that I had to run to the library to get a book. Pansy didn't even think to question me; she and Nott were making eyes at each other, and seemed to have quite forgotten about the rest of the world entirely.

Blaise gave me a funny look, though.

"You aren't doing what I think you're doing, are you?" he asked.

"I might be," I conceded.

"Right." He nodded once, briskly, and then grabbed Pansy and Nott and dragged them down the hallway towards our common room. Once they were no longer in sight, I leaned against the nearest wall to think.

If I were Harry Potter, where would I be? I came up with three places: the library, the Quidditch pitch, and the Gryffindor common room. Hoping fervently that he wasn't in the last of the three, I set off to search all of them that I could.

He wasn't in the library. All I found there were two studious Ravenclaws and one seriously nettled Madam Pince. I left before I could figure out what she was angry about.

He wasn't at the Quidditch pitch either. All I found there was some dirt and an abandoned quaffle, which I put back in one of the sheds.

Highly disheartened, I began to walk in the direction of Gryffindor tower. On the way, I passed several portraits of medieval wizards who were arguing over politics, the Ravenclaw ghost (whose name I couldn't remember), and Mrs. Norris. The cat glared at me and promptly scurried off, no doubt to fetch Filch, so I didn't hang around there long.

I was just turning a corner on the second floor when I ran right into the subject of my search. He was walking with his hands in his pockets, but his hair was sticking up at odd angles, which made me think he had just been messing with it, like always.

"Malfoy?" he asked, one eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Hi," I replied, rather breathlessly. "How are you?"

"Fine." He spoke cautiously, making the word sound like a question. "You?"

"I'm well."

He looked at me expectantly, so I continued.

"I, um... I wanted to talk to you."

Now both eyebrows were raised, and his green eyes were wide. "About anything in particular?"

"Well, yes." I took a deep breath. I'd already gone so far; there was no reason for me to stop now. "Why did you decide to start speaking to me two weeks ago?"

Harry blinked. For a split second, I was afraid that he would just turn and walk away. Then he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I was waiting for that," he said. "I was kind of hoping you wouldn't ask, but I knew you would. Hermione kept telling me to just tell you, but I couldn't." He looked up and directly into my eyes. "Did you know that your mother is the reason I'm alive today?"

My jaw dropped, all sense of Malfoy dignity long forgotten. "How?" I gasped.

"When I met Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest last spring, I found out that I had to die. Part of his soul was attached to me, you see, and that connection had to go. There was no other way. So when I went to meet him, I was completely resigned to my fate. He cast the Killing Curse on me, but it only destroyed the part of his soul that I had, so I managed to come back..."

He closed his eyes, and I wondered if he was remembering what it was like to die. Then he took another deep breath and continued. "Anyway, what I did, it made Voldemort mortal. And... no, never mind. The point is that when I came back, it looked as if I was lying dead on the ground. Of course, Voldemort wanted to be sure, so he sent someone to check to see if I was still breathing. It was your mother. But as she leaned over, she asked me in a whisper if you were still alive, and when I told her that you were, she told Voldemort I was dead.

"I had always thought that you were an obnoxious, self-centered git, but seeing such devotion from your mother made me wonder if I had really been right about you. I mean, she betrayed Voldemort simply because I told her that you weren't dead the last time I saw you! Obviously that meant you had to have some good qualities. So I made up my mind to find out. I was curious."

Throughout Harry's story, I had listened as if my life depended on it. I was in shock; there was so much I didn't know, so much that my mother had neglected to tell me. I couldn't believe that Harry was really, actually leveling with me! But during the last few sentences, my brain had started to put everything together. Now I glared icily at him.

"And that curiosity had nothing to do with the fact that you felt a debt towards my mother for saving your life, did it? Because if it did, I'll bet you only spoke to me because you thought befriending me could somehow lessen that debt – which, by the way, you only imagined you owed! Ugh, you are so completely predictable!"

I turned on my heel and would have stomped away if Harry hadn't grabbed me by both shoulders and swung me around to face him.

"Draco, would you please calm down and listen to me for one minute?" he asked, sounding half afraid and half aggravated.

I crossed my arms and continued to glare, although inside I was slightly mollified; he had just called me by my first name again, and he was still holding me in place.

"Fine. You have one minute," I said shortly. Harry snorted and let go of me.

"Okay, okay. Where was I? Oh yeah: I was curious. Um... it did have a bit to do with feeling indebted to your mum, but only at the beginning. As soon as I started talking to you, I realized you were so much more interesting than I had ever thought, and you weren't anywhere near as obnoxious as you were when we were thirteen – in fact, you weren't obnoxious at all! Okay, you were slightly obnoxious, but I don't think you could help it, and for some reason it didn't bother me, and I really enjoyed talking with you, and..."

Harry's face was flushed. He paused, and he seemed to be trying to figure out what to say next. I was certain it had been more than a minute, but I couldn't bring myself to move.

"Before long," he finally went on, "I was coming up with excuses to see you, just because I wanted to talk to you. About you, or your art, or whatever you wanted to talk about – I didn't care, as long as I got to see you, and–" He broke off and ran a hand hurriedly through his hair. "Gah, what am I saying?"

He was so remarkably adorable when he was flustered that I could only stare at him, speechless as well. But suddenly I knew exactly what he was trying to say, having just realized it myself only twenty-four hours before. I acted on impulse. Taking a step forward, I caught his jaw with one hand, pulled his face close to mine, and kissed him.

At first, Harry was so shocked that he didn't respond. But it didn't take long for my lips moving against his to do the trick. He flung his arms around me, his fists knotting in the back of my shirt, and kissed me back. My fingers immediately twisted themselves into his hair, something that I hadn't realized I had wanted to do until that moment. I nipped playfully at Harry's lower lip, making him gasp, and I took the opportunity to slip my tongue into his mouth. His hands moved now, slowly ghosting over my chest, underneath my shirt–

"Oi! You there!"

Harry and I sprung apart, breathing heavily and wiping our mouths. Filch was running down the hallway, his darling cat close at his heels. Recalling that she had crossed my path early that afternoon, I swore under my breath.

"I knew I'd find you up to no good!" said Filch triumphantly as he approached us. "It's the Headmistress's office for you!" He pointed, clearly indicating that we should go first. Harry and I looked at each other anxiously, and then hastened to move before he tried to use force. We weren't sure what he would do in such a case, and we weren't exactly keen on finding out.

Filch herded us down the hallway, up a staircase, and down another two hallways before we reached Professor McGonagall's classroom. Judging by that, I figured that class must be either about to end or have just ended. McGonagall could be found in her classroom during class, and in the Head's office at any other time. The school board had offered to find another Transfiguration professor now that she was Headmistress as well, but she liked her job too well to leave it.

Apparently, class was just about to end. Filch held up a hand to stop us from entering.

"Wait," he ordered. We stood against the wall opposite the door, and a moment later, a crowd of third years issued forth from the room. A few of them spared questioning looks for us – I held my head high and pretended not to see them – but most of them didn't notice us. As soon as they were gone, Filch stepped forward and knocked.

"You may enter," came the professor's voice from inside.

Filch opened the door, and waved us into the room. Professor McGonagall was sitting at her desk, sifting through a pile of papers. We stopped in front of her, while Filch lingered by the doorway.

"Well, Argus?" McGonagall said without looking up. "Why are they here?"

"I found 'em causing trouble in the hallway, ma'am," he replied. His voice had taken on a haughty tone, and he stuck his chin out slightly. "Attached at the mouth, they were. I reckoned I'd better bring them to you for punishment."

I was quite sure that I was dying on the spot. Of course, Filch couldn't just say that we were troublemakers. He had to say that he'd caught us snogging. True, we hadn't actually been doing anything else that warranted a trip to the headmistress. Still, it was embarrassing.

At his second statement, McGonagall's head had snapped up. She studied us closely, her eyes narrowed behind her spectacles. "These two, Argus?" she asked, looking at him skeptically, as if she suspected him of grabbing the wrong students in his haste to see justice done.

"Yes, Headmistress," said Filch promptly. "These two."

She sighed and set the stack of papers down. "You may go. I'll deal with them."

The grin on Filch's face was sickening. "Of course, Headmistress," he said, and he backed out of the door and shut it with a snap.

It felt like a death sentence. I glanced over at Harry; he as biting his lip, and I saw his fists clenched just out of McGonagall's line of vision. I wished that I could disappear.

"Well?" said McGonagall. "Have you anything to say for yourselves?"

I doubted that I was capable of speech. Harry managed to say, "No, Professor," in a feeble voice.

Whatever I had been expecting, our Headmistress's reply wasn't it.

"Alright, then. I suppose I ought to take five points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin, for the trouble you caused Mr. Filch. Now if you wouldn't mind showing yourselves out? I have essays that need grading before dinner."

I gaped at her. I had a feeling that Harry was doing the same.

"B-but Professor...?" he spluttered. "Are you sure... I-I mean...?"

"Would you like me to change my mind, Potter?"

"No, of course not!" Harry exclaimed.

"Well then I suggest that you and Mr. Malfoy make your way down to the Great Hall, or you'll miss the meal."

Harry gave her one more confused look, and then exited. I followed swiftly, extremely relieved that it hadn't been necessary for me to say anything.

A group of girls was passing by the outside of the room when we left. Harry was leading the way, but we were walking more slowly than they were. I waited until they were out of sight to speak.

"Well, that was weird," I said. "I expected a detention at least."

Harry groaned, grabbed me by the sleeve, and pulled me to the side. I found myself in an abandoned classroom with books stacked against the walls from floor to ceiling.

"Why did you kiss me?" he asked quietly.

I blinked at him. "Um... because I'm attracted to you?" I said slowly. It was a question, but Potter didn't seem to notice. His brow furrowed.

"Y-you are?" He sounded uncertain.

I rolled my eyes. "No, Harry, I make it a habit to kiss random people in the middle of a hall where Filch can catch me. Adds a bit of excitement to life, y'know?"

He glared at me. "Seriously, Draco."

"I was being serious," I retorted. "I like you. What more do you want me to say?"

"I don't know! It just..." He looked down at his feet. "I don't understand. I thought you hated me – or at least, that you didn't like me very much. I thought you only put up with me because you thought I was mad."

I sighed heavily. "Well, I did think you were mad at first. I thought you hated me too, remember? But I don't think I've hated you for a long time now."

Harry looked up at that. "What?"

"I was thinking," I said, neglecting to relay the fact that I had been doing so only because Pansy and Blaise had pretty much ordered me to, "and I realized that the reason I used to fight with you so much was because I was trying to get you to pay attention to me. I guess I'd always wanted you to talk to me, so when you did, it made me start to think about a lot of things I wouldn't allow myself to think about before. I mean, at first I was really confused, but once I figured everything out, all I wanted was to ask you for your side of the story. And I would have, but I was too afraid of what you'd say to ask you for an explanation."

"What made you do it, then?" Harry cut in.

"Well, I finally realized that I loved you, for one. That, and I was sick of not knowing."

"Oh." A slight smile was forming on his lips. "Okay. That makes sense."

"Finally," I drawled. "Is that enough for you? Or would you rather I get down on one knee and profess my love for you in the middle of the Great Hall?"

Harry burst out laughing. "No," he choked out. "No, that's okay. Really."

"Good," I said dryly. "Because I wouldn't actually do that."

Once Harry calmed down, he shook his head and said, "I reckon we should go to dinner soon."

"Probably," I agreed. "Especially since I told Pansy and Blaise I'd meet them, oh–" I frowned, "–almost two hours ago."

Harry laughed again, and suddenly his lips were on mine. I could feel the relief in his kiss, and I kissed him back forcefully, trying to reassure him. When we broke apart, we were both panting. Our foreheads remained touching, and for several seconds we just tried to breathe. Then I grabbed his hand and dragged him off down the hallway.

"What are we doing?" he asked.

"Going to dinner," I said. "My friends expected to see me a long time ago. Not to mention, your friends will probably get worried if I don't return you soon. I don't want to give Weasley any more reason to want to curse me."

"He's not that bad," Harry objected. "He just... he needs time to adjust, that's all."

"Right," I scoffed. I felt him trying to pull his hand back, but I didn't let him. He jogged until he was walking right beside me.

"Should we really be doing this?" he asked, and I knew he was referring to the hand-holding. "I mean, if someone sees–"

"If that's going to be your philosophy, then no more kissing me in the corridor," I said.

"But it was an empty corridor!" he protested. I turned my head around to see him blushing.

"Yes, and right now, we're in an empty hallway," I pointed out. I squeezed his hand. "Don't worry so much. McGonagall let us off the hook, didn't she? We can't get in trouble, so what do we care if anybody sees?"

A moment later, I realized that I did care very much. We rounded the corner and walked straight into Weasley and Granger.

I dropped Harry's hand as if it was a hot coal, but it was still too late. Weasley jumped back, looking disturbed, his eyes bulging and his mouth half-open. Granger studied us calmly.

"So, you finally talked to him," she said to Harry.

He frowned in confusion. "Yes..." he said slowly. "Wait, that was what you meant? You knew?"

"Look, Harry," she said, clearly trying to reason with him. "I'm not trying to say that you're an open book or anything, but you aren't exactly hard to read."

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, but he didn't seem to be able to think of anything to say.

It was too much for me; I had to shove a hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. Of course, it didn't work very well. Harry rounded on me next.
"What are you laughing for?" he asked indignantly. That only made me laugh harder. Harry crossed his arms and glared until I could speak again.

"Pansy knew too," I explained, still chuckling. "She said she's known for years."

"Did she?" said Granger, her voice colored with approval.

I nodded.

"Hmm." She pondered about that for a moment, while we observed her in confusion. Then her attitude changed completely. "Well, I suppose we'd better head to the Great Hall. Come along, Ronald." She took Weasley by the arm and began to lead him away. He rolled his eyes.

"Hurry up, Harry," he mouthed at us over his shoulder, and he followed Granger.

We watched them walk away silently.

"So, are they together, then?" I asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Yeah," Harry said.

"Must be awkward," I observed

"You've no idea," he said with feeling.

We walked into the Great Hall together. I could have sworn I felt a few hundred heads turn to stare in our direction. Almost on a whim, I leaned in to whisper my goodbye in Harry's ear. He flushed red, mumbled a goodbye of his own, and went to meet Granger and Weasley at the Gryffindor table.

Feeling happier than I had in weeks, I joined my own friends at the Slytherin table. Pansy was between Blaise and Theodore, the latter of whom had his arm around her waist. She watched me curiously as I approached.

"Well?" she asked as I sat down next to Blaise.

I smirked, and she grinned broadly in return.

"Hey! Blaise! Stop flirting!" she ordered, poking him the back. He had been talking to Marielle Carter, who was sitting across from him, and hadn't noticed my arrival. Grumbling under his breath, he turned around.

"That's rich, coming from you," he muttered irritably. "What?"

"Looks like our little Draco caught himself a Potter."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I missed it; were they sucking face as they walked in?"

"Wait, Draco and Potter?" Nott asked nosily.

"Oh yes," Pansy said. "You see, they're very much in love."

"They'll be attached at the hip before long," Blaise added. "Soon they'll be sneaking out of class to snog in the hallways."

I would have objected to their teasing, but I was too distracted. Harry was watching me from across the room, his green eyes soft. My heart stuttered loudly in my chest as our eyes met; I ignored it. We simply smiled at each other, and it was a long time before either of us could turn away.

END