Disclaimer: JKR owns all HP characters and settings etc. They are not my dollies, I simply stole them and played with them for a short while. Only the plot belongs to me.
Rated: M for language and some sexual situations.
Warnings: There will be slash/ malexmale/ yaoi/ whatever you want to call it. Basically, if you are a homophobe, I don't advise reading this story. Also, for some, there may be unbearable amounts of fluffy relationship stuff that may induce vomiting and/or blindness. Have a nice day.

Post-DH but NOT epilogue compliant. There may be some spoilers.

Woo! Alright, this is the chapter where things start to get interesting between the boys ;) No action yet, but it's coming, I promise!
Enjoy and please review!

The next few weeks passed by uneventfully, with Harry and Draco becoming closer and closer to being considered friends. Once or twice a week, Luna and Harry dragged Draco and Neville over to the Ravenclaw table and they spent the evenings quietly talking and joking, with Draco glaring at anyone whom he caught staring at them. Although he had changed, the blond still wasn't quite open to people jovially talking to him in the corridors, throwing him smiles as they passed and he was never going to be everyone's best friend. He just wasn't that kind of person; even if those things did start to occur; which wasn't very likely in the near future.

The workload that year was immense and the boys often stayed up late in their room, Draco helping Harry with his increasingly difficult homework. "Harry, you defeated Voldemort, but you can't even manage a simple Gemino Charm?" Draco asked exasperatedly when Harry tried and failed once again to cast the spell that would duplicate his quill upon human contact. Harry scowled and thumped his head on the desk.

The lesson Harry struggled most with, however, was Potions. Now that he no longer had Professor Snape's old textbook, his skills in the subject had fallen to well below average again, much to Professor Slughorn's dismay. During the previous week, he and Draco had been drifting closer and closer together in classes. Today, they had both arrived late and were forced to take a bench together. Harry fidgeted and sweated over his potion, adding ingredients at random and stirring when the potion looked like it needed it. They were supposed to be making Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world, which they had learned about back in their sixth year during their first lesson with Slughorn. Draco's potion had already taken on a faint 'mother-of-pearl sheen' and the steam was starting to loosely spiral like the book – and Hermione – described, but his potion was bubbling thickly in his cauldron and was wine-coloured instead of the creamy-pink shade it should have been as his stage. Harry sighed.

Draco smirked. "You're supposed to add one Ashwinder egg twelveminutes after the addition of eight pairs of Doxy wings. It looks like you added it too soon."

Harry scowled. "Well, that's very helpful to know, but what exactly do I do about it?"

"Add some Mooncalf dung and a sprig of peppermint."

Harry rolled his eyes. Why were the people he associated with always the cleverest in the year?

While he was searching through the store cupboard for the correct ingredients to fix his potion, he realised that not long ago, he would never have even asked Draco for help and now here he was accepting his advice without question. A tiny part of him still wondered if Draco was setting him up to fail, but he suppressed the thought; he wanted to trust Draco, whatever the reason his subconscious had decided upon for this sudden urge was.

Harry made his way back to his cauldron and nervously added the ingredients. His potion instantly turned the exact shade it was supposed to be. He turned to Draco gratefully and whispered a quiet "Thanks."

Draco nodded and muttered back, "Just pay attention to what you're doing next time."

By the end of Friday's double lesson, Harry had at least clawed his way up to an average potion, with some helpful pointers from Draco. As Professor Slughorn patrolled the classroom inspecting their work, Harry allowed himself to sit back and inhale the intoxicating fumes of the love potions that had been brewed. Only Hermione and Draco had successfully completed their potions and he breathed in deeply, savouring the scent of treacle tart, the smell of the wooden broomstick handle he so loved, and something new that he was sure he'd smelt only recently.

He spent the last five minutes wondering what it could possibly be as the class cleared up, vanishing potions and tidying away their cauldrons. As they exited the dungeon, Harry caught a whiff of the smell again as Draco brushed past just a little too closely. His eyes widened. Why on earth was the scent of Draco Malfoy one of the components he smelled when he inhaled the fumes of a love potion?

-x-

Harry mulled this thought confusedly over and over in his head for the rest of day, distractedly picking at his food at dinner, theories chasing themselves round and round his dazed and confused brain as he poked at a tomato on his plate. Previously, the scent of that particular potion had always included the scent of Ginny's perfume. He had known that would no longer be present, as they had never continued their relationship where they left off. After the war, Harry simply hadn't been able to connect to her on the same level as he had previously, and eventually, she had admitted to feeling the same way. They were still friends, but rarely got a chance to talk anymore as Ginny was always busy either with schoolwork or Dean Thomas. Harry wasn't jealous of their relationship, but found it difficult to talk to them as a couple, and Ron hadn't taken the news that Harry and Ginny were no longer an item very well, so Harry thought it best to steer clear of the subject of his old girlfriend for fear of getting into yet another argument about how he'd 'used her'.

But he still failed to understand why Draco, his long-term rival and short-term, almost-friend, played a bigger part in a potion that was supposed to imitate love than his ex-girlfriend did. Harry didn't even like boys in that way. He was fairly sure of that. He'd never even considered doing anything with a boy. He tried to picture himself kissing a faceless boy in the way he used to kiss Ginny, and was repulsed by the thought. There, he liked girls. Didn't he? He tried the same scene again, but this time with a girl. He didn't exactly feel repulsed by it… But he didn't feel anything else either. Nothing. Harry sighed. Great, he was asexual.

He supposed he should have seen this coming. Even with Ginny, he'd never gone beyond an intense kiss or three. He simply hadn't felt the urge to do anything more with the person beside him.

He tried picturing the kissing scene again, letting his eyes glaze over as he gazed around the Great Hall with his eyes out of focus, his head automatically turning towards the Slytherin table. The familiar bright blond head caught his eye and the fantasy person in his experimental daydream instantly took on Draco's appearance.

Immediately, the dream became much more real. An unfamiliar flame glowed in the pit of his stomach and he could feel Draco's soft lips on his own, their fingers tangled in each other's hair; the blond tresses fine and silky to his touch, as he felt Draco's hot breath graze his flushed cheek as they both gasped and panted for air.

Harry blinked. What? What?! His face began to heat up; terrified that someone else had seen the images playing out inside his head. He stood up, grabbing his bag and hurried away from the table.

He was not gay. He wasn't. How could he be? He had only thought about Draco because he happened to catch his eye. Yes, that was it. He had seen Draco and his mind had simply taken that into consideration when supplying him with imaginary fantasies. There was nothing more to it. He barely even thought about Draco. Apart from now. Damn. He focused his attention on where he was going, not allowing his mind to wander anywhere else besides from where his feet were taking him.

He reached the room and opened the door, collapsing on to his bed gratefully. Now wasn't the time to sit here and think. His mind might take him down a dangerous path. Standing up, he walked to his dresser and pulled out a Quidditch Almanac Hermione had bought him for his eighteenth birthday that summer. He lit a fire in the grate with a flick of his wand and flopped into one of the armchairs beside it, opening the book as he did so.

Draco returned to their room a couple of hours later; looking harassed and disgruntled. He had spent his time walking around the school and letting his logical mind think over his latest problem as he usually did when faced with difficulties. Right now, however, his mind was being treacherous and refusing to co-operate with him, indulging in reckless fantasies that only served to confuse and disturb him further. He shut the door with a little more force than necessary, startling Harry who had been reading in his chair. At the sight of each other, both boys flushed but neither wanted to look away for fear of appearing weak.

"You're back early." Harry glanced at his watch; Draco didn't normally return to their room until at least an hour after the current time.

Draco nodded. "So are you."

"Yeah, I err… Thought I'd better start on the homework we got given for Potions."

Draco raised an elegant eyebrow. "And reading a Quidditch Almanac is going to help, is it?"

Harry blushed and Draco smirked, sitting in the other armchair beside Harry and handing him a bottle of butterbeer he had 'liberated' from the kitchens.

"What's this for?" Harry accepted the bottle in confusion and flicked the top off with his wand, watching Draco attempt to do the same with his own drink.

The blond shrugged, "Just felt like we needed a drink." as he furiously tried to get his wand to perform the correct spell needed to free the liquid inside.

Harry frowned. "What's wrong? Why doesn't your wand work?" He asked in confusion.

Draco finally succeeded in separating bottle from top and sat back in his armchair lazily as he surveyed Harry. "This is a new wand. It doesn't co-operate as readily as my old one did."

Harry felt guilt wash over him. He still had Draco's old wand back at Grimmauld Place. He hadn't given it a second thought since he'd repaired his own, and it lay in the attic where he'd put most of the other things he didn't want reminding him of the war. He took a swig of butterbeer, making a mental note to get Kreacher to send it over to Hogwarts as soon as possible. "Oh." Was all he said in response.

The two sat, chatting amicably as they drank and even playing a game of wizard chess; which Draco of course won due to his superior skill; having played the game with his parents since he was seven years old. They played and talked until the fire in the grate at last died and they decided to call it a night, climbing tiredly into their beds.