In truth, what happened next happened fast. The morning came quickly, and in fact, so did the rest of the day. At dinner, however, Harry found his mouth to be working quite apart from what his brain willed. His feet in cohorts with his mouth, Harry found himself standing in front of a bemused, puzzled Draco in the slowly emptying hallways.

As always, Crabbe and Goyle waited for a cue from Draco and at his slight wave of the hand, they lumbered off in the direction of the dungeons.

For a long, glorious moment, Harry savored the simple fact that he was standing alone in front of Draco. It was hard for him to say exactly what his feeling was. There was a bit of nervousness, certainly, sort of a fog over the water. The water being admiration and a swelling of simple passion. And under that, perhaps the sands of eternity. Perhaps the hope for something permanent.

This moment seemed quite long, but honestly, Draco couldn't hold back from speaking for long. "Potter." The word was spoken directly, and carefully devoid of any emotions. A slight but significant pause and then: "Well, I noticed you didn't bring your little friends for protection, so as you see, you can say what you have to."

Harry nodded slowly, his mouth still clamoring to say things his brain was terrified of the results. "Well."

The word came out and Harry couldn't help but to sigh. He looked up towards the ceiling, trying to put this all in perspective and then finally it just wasn't worth the effort. So he let his mouth take over, figuring that after nearly seven years of animosity, could it really get any worse?

"I've been thinking about you a lot, quite honestly," Harry said, and he could see Draco didn't know quite how to take it. Still, Draco seemed neutral enough, so Harry carried on. "We've known each other for seven years and a lot has happened between us, obviously."

"So you're after some sort of… truce?" Draco questioned. His voice retained its' elegant air, but there was something underneath. "Potter, I don't understand what you're going for here."

"Neither do I," Harry admitted. "Which is why I came to talk to you, because besides Ron and Hermione, in a way, you know me better than anyone else in this school."
"Logical enough," Draco said slowly.

"I know enough about holding grudges to know that it's almost impossible to keep one for seven years on the grounds you have," Harry said pointedly.

For the first time, Draco let down his guard for a near moment, a faint blush rushing to his cheeks. Then it was gone, and he was saying to a spellbound Harry, "You're quite forward, aren't you?"

Harry took a deep breath, not sure how to interpret the statement. He had no clue what to say, but then Draco took the initiative, saying, "Oh look, if we're going to talk about this, let's go somewhere a little… more private, don't you think?"

As he said this, Draco whirled around, and without waiting to see if Harry followed, started down the hallway. Of course Harry scurried behind, smiling a little to himself. There seemed to be a touch of urgency in Draco's movements, and Harry almost too late remembered to remind himself that it could yet be a trap.

But he smiled anyhow. Already, it felt good to start expressing his true feelings. Draco led them down the hall, turning right at intervals and going up a flight of stairs. He looked the left, to the right, and tapped a door, and it opened, revealing a room with a large, fancy desk and chair. One wall was lined to the ceiling with books and papers, and the back wall had a huge 

window hung with dark green curtains. Harry realized that near the back of this room there was a small bed that showed signs of recent use.

Draco briefly explained that this was a private study room that he had asked permission to be allowed to stay in. Harry rolled his eyes at the thought of Draco explaining to the headmaster that he didn't want to stay with the other slytherins. The colors matched though, and Harry didn't mind that part. Green and silver suited Draco's style.

Harry's thoughts were slammed back into the present by Draco saying sharply, "So, then, Potter."

Blinking, Harry looked at Draco. His breath caught in his throat for a moment. "So then," he repeated.

"Well, this is a bit more comfortable, don't you think?" Draco seemed to be pondering saying something more, but instead said, "Have a seat if you wish."

Draco himself sat down on a velvety green armchair and Harry sat on the fancy chair by the desk. He tried to guess what Draco was up to, how much Draco suspected, how much Draco requited.

And suddenly Harry couldn't look at Draco but said softly, "It's just that I can't help but wonder if all the attention you give me is for a different reason." He couldn't keep back the deep red blush as he added, "A reason that I'd much prefer to hear."

Was it scorn in Draco's voice when he replied? "Potter, you are by far the densest, most ignorant person I know. Sometimes I wonder if you have any clue how emotions work." It wasn't.

As Harry got the nerve to look up into Draco's face he realized it wasn't scorn or mocking. It was longing.

"Oh honestly," Draco continued in the same tone. "You amaze me. You all do. Everyone. Believing that my hostility towards you was born from some petty jealousy of you? I'll admit, it's enjoyable as hell."

Harry had to look away again. The look on Draco's face confused him, and he was scared. In fact, he had started to tremble, quite apart from his own will.

It happened fast. The worry that Draco was going to play him for a fool, the worry that Draco was in fact being truthful. He wasn't sure which scared him more, and it made him feel all over nauseous. Harry realized that seven years of build-up to this point was more than he could handle, and fell from his chair.

When he came to, it had only been a minute. He was lying in the bed in the back of the room, and Draco was sitting on the side of it, looking at him and laughing.

"Oh, honestly, Potter. You amuse me to no end."

Harry had no words, but watched Draco in astonishment. The blonde crawled in the bed next to him, and then, on top of him, smirking.

"Seven years. As you can see, I am patient," Draco muttered. "Or insane."

"Probably insane," Harry offered, "But so am I."

It seemed as though those words shattered any remaining doubt and tension. Draco leaned forward, starting with a gentle brush of his lips against Harry's. It deepened quickly, and there were no more words.