Professor McGonagall led Harry and Draco to their rooms. Their common room looked a lot like the Gryffindor common room, except much smaller and was decorated in earthy tones instead of red and gold. This was great because red and gold look horrible on furniture. Professor McGonagall pointed to a door on the right side of the room. "Through there is your bedroom, and through there," she pointed to the door on the other side of the room, "is you bathroom. I trust you will do as Professor Dumbledore asks and interact civilly," she said, piercing them with her glare. "Good night." She turned and left the two boys on their own.

Malfoy turned, smirk firmly on his face, and opened his mouth, but Harry beat him to it. "Save it, Malfoy. I'm tired. Insult me tomorrow when I'll actually be able to give you a comeback." Harry left Malfoy and entered the bathroom to brush his teeth. By the time Harry stumbled out of the bathroom, he was too sleepy to see Malfoy brooding by the fire. Thankfully he was awake enough to remember to put a silencing charm around his bed. Since the death of Voldemort, Harry had been having nightmares about the war almost every night. He would wake up screaming just like he did when Moldy Voldy was still alive and torturing and killing.

Draco's POV

What am I going to do? How am I going to keep up my mask when we're always together? Draco thought, staring into the fire. How am I going to keep myself under control if he is always just in the next room? Draco was scared that now that he would be seeing Harry almost 24/7, Harry would discover his deepest secret.

Ever since fifth year when Draco realized that his father was full of shit, he questioned what he blindly followed. He realized that the Dark Lord's view on purity was faulty. You can't determine someone's magical ability by one's blood. Look at Crabbe and Goyle for example. While Draco was friends with both, he still could see the truth, that both were pureblood yet had a very low magical ability. Then look at Granger. Muggle-born, yet she was probably better at magic than he was.

Those observations contradicted his father's beliefs, so he looked to see what else was wrong with his views. And found something completely unexpected.

He realized that Harry was not the attention-seeking brat that his father insisted he was. He was caring. He helped everyone he could. He was brave. He faced death numerous times trying to save the ones he loved.

Now that he knew who the real Harry was, he wished he didn't. Because if you really know who Harry Potter is, there's no way you can't fall in love with him. Yes, that was Draco's big secret. He was completely, head-over-heels in love with the Boy-Who-Just-Won't-Die. Nobody knew, but he thought he saw Granger giving him odd looks. He knew that she thought something was up with him, but he hoped that she was hypothesizing wrong. He would be absolutely mortified if someone found out that the supposedly ice cold Slytherin Prince was in love with the Gryffindor Golden Boy. It would destroy his reputation, and Harry would probably be so sickened that he would never even look at him again.

Draco sighed. It was getting very late, so he got up and walked into his bedroom. He was half asleep even before his head touched the pillow.

Draco was not a morning person. It usually took the combines forces of Crabbe and Goyle to get him vertical in the morning. Usually, one grabbed his arms and the other grabbed his legs and they forced him into a standing position. Now it seems like they have changed their method to beating him repeatedly over the head with a pillow. "Stoff it." He said drowsily, swatting above his head lethargically.

"Come on Malfoy. Get your lazy ass out of bed."

Now that was new. His bodyguards never spoke to him like that. He opened one eye and was shocked to see Harry Potter standing over him with the foul pillow in his hands. Last night slowly came back to his sleep-riddled mind.

"Come on Malfoy. Don't make me pour ice cold water over your head."

"Fine, fine, I'm getting up." Draco replied, throwing his legs over the side of his bed. "What time is it?"

"7:30, you should hurry up if you want to get to breakfast on time." Harry said as he moved to the door to their common room. "I'm going down to the Great Hall. See you in class."

Draco cursed under his breath. His morning ritual took one hour. Why did Harry have to wait so long to wake him up?

He jumped out of bed and threw on some clothes, then ran to the bathroom. He splashed some water on his face, brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his hair. He then ran to the Great Hall. He just barely arrived in time to get his schedule.

Harry's POV

"How was the Ferret, Harry?" Ron asked from across the Gryffindor table.

"It was fine. I went right to bed when we got there so we didn't fight or anything," Harry answered.

"Good for you Harry. Be the bigger person and stop the fights." Hermione said.

"Who were you paired with, Ron?" Harry asked.

"Blaise Zambini."

"Well we've never had any personal problems with him before. Was he all right?"

"Yeah he was fine. We just talked a little about upcoming classes this year. He seems like a pretty nice guy," Ron said.

"Oh my God. Alert the press. Ron said something decent about a Slytherin. Hell must be going through some cold weather right now." Hermione smirked.

"Oh shut up Hermione." Ron said.

Professor McGonagall was walking up through the isle, handing out schedules. When Harry got his he frowned.

"I have every single class with the Slytherins."

"Well, if you had taken Ancient Runes with me then you would have had a class with the Ravenclaws," Hermione said, putting her schedule.

"Yeah, whatever. I think Dumbledore is getting a little overkill with the whole unity stuff." Harry glowered. "Hey, do you think the teachers will make us sit with them?"

"Probably," said Ron. "Come on. If we're late for Potions Snape will kill us."

They all got up and trudged on to their least favorite class. Except Hermione, who looked slightly excited for classes to start again.