Author's note: we were delighted to read all the encouraging reviews we got for the last chapter. they really did make us feel warm and fuzzy inside. there's nothing we as author's like more than getting reviews, so please don't hesitate to leave us one. -grins- we also want to apologize to those leaving anonymous reviews: we yelled at you for not leaving your email addresses without realizing that that's no longer an option. we can't say we approve of this change, but, then, we're not very fond of the new in general, so there's no change there. however, if you do want to leave your email address (and we would love it if you would!) remember that doesn't allow url's in reviews. so either put spaces between sections or do something so that it doesn't look like a url. thanks a lot!
Disclaimer: it's very, very cold outside (last time we checked, it was 7 degrees F, which is up from -6 this morning...) and our hot chocolate is too peppermint-y for its own good, so we could use something to warm us up. like the rights to harry potter. but the world is cruel, so we just have to make do with sweaters and thoughts of warm places. like the ice rink. seriously. the rink sounds really, really nice right now. it would be all warm on the ice, and i could skate in my tank-top (yes, i wore a tank-top today. stop looking at me like that! i'm wearing a sweater over it! even if it is only a half sweater and my coat doesn't close... i'm insane. deal with it.) anyway, this is way, way too long a rant about the cold weather, so suffice it to say that none of us own harry potter. seriously, we don't.
--kyra

8: calm before the storm

Harry had been rehearsing his invitation over and over again, hoping that when the time came, he would manage to blurt it out without embarrassing himself. By the time Transfiguration was finally over, he was sweating, and trying his hardest to keep it from Ron and Hermione. Hermione looked at suspiciously, but left after a reluctant moment. The others seemed excruciatingly slow to leave, and it was ages until the two of them were alone again. Draco waited until Professor McGonagall had locked and warded the classroom before slipping out of his desk and coming over to where Harry was standing.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Harry looked at Draco, hoping that the blush wouldn't take over. "Hey," he answered, a little shakily.

Draco frowned. "Harry, what is it?" he asked, anxious.

"Do you… I mean would you…" Harry trailed off, looking down at the ground. Why was this so hard? He'd invited Draco at Christmas without nearly this much trouble, despite the fact that they weren't even talking to each other, so why now? 'Things were different at Christmas,' a voice in his head reminded him. 'Christmas was before.'

Draco was looking at him in a sort of terrified curiosity and Harry, with an unusual flash of insight, realized that Draco was expecting Harry to dump him. Remorse flooded him, and he grabbed Draco's hand. The contact soothed him somewhat, and Harry managed to blurt out, "Would you like to come to Grimauld Place with me for Easter?"

Draco stared at him, eyes wide.

"Just the two of us," Harry amended. "Together."

"Are you serious?" Draco managed.

Harry grinned, most of his composure regained. "Perfectly, Draco. You can always say no."

"Say no?!" Draco demanded. "Why do you think I'd say no?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, to tell you the truth, I was rather hoping that you wouldn't."

Draco grinned back, and there was a sparkle in his gray eyes. "Harry, I would love to spend Easter with you."

"Excellent!" Harry said, feeling the knot of tension unravel in his midsection. "However, as it's two weeks until Easter, what are we going to do until then?"

Draco frowned for a moment, then his face took on a wicked expression. "You know," he said grinning. "We never did settle our duel from September."

Harry gaped at him. "You want us to duel? You know McGonagall will have our heads if she knew, don't you?"

Draco shrugged. "I won't tell her if you don't," he responded. He was already fingering his wand, and Harry wondered at how much he wanted this.

It was that that made Harry give in, of course. Draco was too precious to refuse. He shrugged in turn and drew his wand. Draco unsheathed his and frowned for a moment. Then he grinned, and made a twisting motion with his wrist. Harry felt a slight difference in the feel of the room, and knitted his brows, trying to figure out what Draco had done.

"Stop it!" Draco said, laughing a little. "Honest to God, Harry, you're distracting me!"

"What did you do?" Harry demanded.

"I reinforced the wards," Draco said. "In case we decide to meddle with things that we probably shouldn't."

"Since when can you make wards?"

"I can't yet. They're really tricky things to make. Upon reflection, McGonagall was nice just taking fifty points each away. I'd have taken away at least a hundred if they'd been mine."

Harry glowered. "She gave you some back, though," he muttered. That insult had still not been forgotten.

Draco shrugged flippantly. "You and the rest of you lions have made up for it, though," he replied. "You're almost ahead of us this year. Maybe you won't need Dumbledore to give you extra points at the Feast."

Harry grinned wickedly, marveling at how he could take what would have been a terrible insult only a few months ago and turn it into a twisted compliment. "Maybe I'll be nice to you this year and try not by too heroic in June."

Draco laughed. "You do that, Potter," he answered. "But for now, let's duel!"

The two of them brought their wands up. As an afterthought, Harry banished the desks to the wall, leaving them a clear space to work. Draco nodded his thanks, and they faced each other. Unlike the other times, both bowed. They stood again, and regarded each other in silence for a split second, before shouting in unison.

"STUPEFY!"

"EXPELIARMUS!"

The bolts of light collided at the same time, but Harry was ready for it. He came again with a lightning fast petrifying jinx. Draco caught it out of the corner of his eye, and tried to dodge, but the jinx caught him in the arm. He cursed as he stiffened, and Harry crowed his victory. He finally took pity on Draco, and ended the spell. As Draco sprang back to life, his wand was pointed and he was shouting something at Harry. Harry felt something cold slither up his leg, and he looked down to see a leg-locking jinx. He glared at Draco.

Draco laughed. "Never underestimate a Malfoy!" he cried in triumph.

Harry grinned, thinking of revenge. His grin turned evilly gleeful as he thought of the perfect curse. He pointed his wand at Draco and spoke the incantation that Ginny had taught him. A shower of bats shot out of Draco's nose, causing him to shriek in disgust. Harry laughed, and allowed Draco to glare at him for several more seconds before reversing the hex.

"You are going to pay for that, Potter!" Draco gasped.

"Next time," Harry informed him. "I believe I won that match."

Draco looked pointedly at Harry's still frozen legs. He reached over and deliberately pushed Harry. Harry's arms swung wildly, trying to keep his balance, but without the use of his legs, he topped in a heap to the ground. Draco stood victoriously over his prone form. "Excuse me?" he asked calmly. "I believe the victory goes to me."

Harry groaned, and held up a hand. Draco shook his head. "Concede," he said firmly. "I learn from your mistakes."

Harry sighed. "I, Harry James Potter, do hereby concede that you, Draco Lucius Malfoy did win our Wizard's duel and do formally swear not to continue to fight. Satisfied?"

Draco grinned and pulled Harry to his feet. Harry looked pointedly at his still immobile legs and Draco swished his wand elegantly. Harry's legs sprang apart again, and he promptly fell over again in shock.

"You're getting up on your own, Harry," Draco informed him, lounging against a nearby desk.

Harry glared at him, and rose a little painfully to his feet. "You are going to pay for this," he informed Draco, putting his wand into his pocket.

Draco did the same. "Not today I'm not," he said merrily. "You lost."

"I won't lose again," Harry promised. "Next time, it's you who ends up surrendering."

"We'll see next time, won't we?" Draco asked.

"We certainly will," Harry agreed.

They dueled several more times over the course of the next two weeks. They split the victories fairly evenly, though Draco swore that he'd won more than Harry. Harry was willing to compromise, and the final score was something like ten and a half each, with the fourth duel split in the middle. They were just cheap distractions, though. As the Easter Holidays approached, Harry felt more and more nervous. What had possessed him to invite Draco? He knew that he loved the other boy, that wasn't the problem at all. But did Draco love him back? He said he did, and Harry didn't doubt the emotion in the other boy's words. But were they really true? By the time Saturday rolled around, Harry had given himself an awful headache and a severe case of nerves. Draco recognized the signs, and dragged Harry into a long discussion that started and ended with Quidditch, but wandered many places in between. Just as the bell rang, Draco kissed Harry briefly. They rarely kissed, preferring to demonstrate their affection more subtly, and Harry looked in amazement at his friend. Draco smirked. "You looked like you needed it," he said. He scooped up his books smoothly and sauntered out of the room, leaving Harry delighted and a bit more at ease. Maybe this would be easier than he thought. Others, though, were less certain.

"You're going back to that madhouse?" Ron demanded incredulously when Harry told him where he was going for the holidays

Harry sighed. "Yes, Ron. I have to go back."

"But why now? And why alone?"

Harry tried to cover up a wince at the word alone. If only Ron knew… though, on second thought, it was probably just as well that he didn't. "I need to face my demons some day," he said evasively. "It'll go faster if I don't have to worry about anyone else."

Ron grimaced. "I think that you're insane," he said flatly. "You'd be better off staying here. Or you could go to my house! I'm sure Mum would be delighted."

"I'd love to, believe me," Harry said earnestly. "But I can't. This is just something I have to do."

Ron rolled his eyes, but didn't press the matter, for which Harry was grateful. They spent the rest of the evening playing a game of chess, which Harry lost spectacularly.

"You just have to think ahead," Ron told him yet again. "Look, Harry. You think one, maybe two moves ahead. You see where my pieces are and react to the immediate threat. But what if I'm trapping you? You don't think of that, and so you let me win.

Harry sighed. "I'm not the brilliant strategist you are, Ron," he said. "I can't do more than respond to the immediate threat. It's why I'm still alive."

Ron refrained from speaking. Harry suspected that he was thinking of Sirius, and appreciated Ron's silence. He himself shoved all thoughts of Sirius out of his head, and conjured up Draco's face instead.

Ron apparently noticed his distraction, because he leaned across the chessboard and asked quietly, "What was it with you and Ginny?"

Harry blinked. He'd completely forgotten about Ginny, and it took a moment to remember that Ron thought he was still in love with her. "Nothing happened," Harry answered. "We just drifted apart."

Ron snorted his disbelief. "Harry, you were crazy for her this summer. How is it that all of a sudden you've 'drifted apart'?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It happens, you know," he said.

"Yeah, but in a year?"

"Ron, some people change girlfriends once a week! Seven months is a long time."

Ron looked at him closely. Then, he frowned. "Harry, there's someone else, isn't there?"

Harry sighed. He should have known that Ron would figure it out. He could only hope to dear God that Ron didn't know who Harry had fallen for. "Yeah," he said quietly. "There's someone else."

"Who?"

"Look, Ron. I really don't want to talk about it."

"Come on, mate! Is she pretty?"

Harry considered his options. Personally, he found Draco gorgeous, but was the other boy pretty? Finally, he shrugged. "Yeah," he said.

Ron laughed. "You do sound enthusiastic, don't you?" Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "It's who you're going to Grimauld Place with, isn't it?"

Harry nodded.

Ron whistled softly. "Wow, you move fast. Unless," his face hardened suddenly, "You weren't cheating on Ginny, were you?"

"Of course not!" Harry said heatedly. "Who do you think I am, anyway?"

Ron looked slightly ashamed. "Sorry," he muttered. "Just in case."

"I'm not going to cheat on anyone," Harry told Ron firmly. "When I realized that I liked… the other person, I was going to break up with her. She just did it first."

"She was really hurt, though," Ron said, still looking slightly angry.

"I didn't want that," Harry told him earnestly. "I didn't set out to hurt her."

Ron sighed slightly. "I know you didn't, mate," he said quietly. "I know."

They sat in silence for a little while longer, then Harry stood. "I'm going to bed," he announced. "I'll see you in the morning."

Ron nodded, and Harry climbed the stairs to the dormitory.

The train ride out to London was quiet. There were fewer people going home for Easter than for Christmas, and I risked a few extra visits to Harry's carriage. On the last of these, I set up temporary wards, and we talked for a long time, discussing plans and silly wishes. I expressed a desire to go on a muggle Easter egg hunt, expecting him to mock me. To my astonishment, he seemed to actually consider the idea. He grinned slowly. "I think that can be done," he said.

I blinked. "You're going to set up an Easter egg hunt because I said that it'd be fun?" I asked, amazed.

He grinned. "I've never been on a real one," he admitted. "With the Dursleys, they were all for Dudley. I was lucky if he gave me a couple pieces of candy."

I felt anger boil up at the mention of Harry's guardians. Didn't they realize how special he was? Didn't they know that he deserved better?

"Leave it alone," Harry said softly. "Don't let them ruin our holiday."

I sighed. "Harry, how do you always know when I'm thinking of ways to kill them?"

He smiled, a little sadly. "Because I know you as well as I know myself, and I think the same things all the time. It just leads to depression when you realize that murder isn't legal in either of my worlds."

"Shame, isn't it?" I asked, without thinking. His face closed, and I realized what I'd just said. "Oh Gods, Harry!" I murmured. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking! Please forgive me!"

With an effort, he smiled at me. "Don't worry," he said, touching my hand gently. "You're always forgiven. You don't even need to ask."

"I feel like an insensitive git right now," I admitted.

His smile became slightly more genuine, and he slipped his hand all the way into mine. "But that's why I love you," he told me.

"Why, because I'm an insensitive git?"

"No, because you realize it. Do you know how refreshing that is?"

I laughed slightly, some of the overwhelming guilt receding. He didn't hate me. Not anymore. "Glad to be of service," I told him.

We couldn't risk being together any longer, so I hugged him briefly, then undid the ward and slipped back into the hallway. I passed Millicent Bulstrode on the way back to my own carriage, and she looked at me oddly, in a partly annoyed, partly knowing look. I glared at her. "What?" I demanded.

She glared back. "Nothing, Malfoy. I didn't say a word." She brushed past me and on down the corridor, leaving me with a feeling part relief part frustration. She'd looked like she knew something, and I wanted badly to know if it was about me and Harry. If she did know… I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the thought. If she knew, then we would have to wait and find out what she did. If she didn't know, I was just worrying for nothing. The theory of that works better in words than in practice, though.

We got off the train at King's Cross station, and I once again followed Harry through the barrier and into the muggle world.

"I'm not riding the underground," I hissed at him. "I swear, if you make me ride it again, I'll Apparate and send all the sensors down on you."

He looked at me in surprise. "You can Apparate?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I know the basic theory. I've never tried it, so if I splinch myself, that's your fault too."

He sighed. "What about a bus?" he asked. "Would that be satisfactory?"

I nodded. "That will do," I told him. We turned a different direction from last time, and stopped by a metal signpost. Harry pulled out his wallet and fished out several coins. He dropped some of these into my hand, and I closed my fist around them. I made a mental note to get my own muggle money as soon as possible. It wasn't fair to keep making Harry pay my way. Malfoys don't take charity.

The bus was a pleasant surprise. It was much more comfortable than the underground, and I found myself actually enjoying the experience. When our stop arrived, he practically had to drag me off.

"Well now I know how to get you to go places with me," he said with a smirk. "I'll promise you a bus trip to get there."

I grinned back. "The novelty will wear off eventually," I assured him.

"Then I'll take advantage of it while it lasts, shall I?" he asked, neatly sidestepping an elderly lady and her shopping cart. She frowned at us, and muttered something unintelligible, but we ignored her. In front of our eyes, Harry's home appeared. We stepped through the gate, and I felt the slight tingling that told me that we'd passed through a magical barrier as well as a physical one.

Harry pushed open the door and bellowed, "KREACHER!"

The ancient house elf appeared in front of us with a crack. "The Master is back," he said, in dismay. "He has brought the pure-blood with him."

"How observant," Harry said sarcastically. "Remind me to give you an extra thump for stating the obvious. We'll be here for a week. Your orders are the same as last time."

Kreacher bowed, and then left with an angry crack.

Harry was delighted to have the time to spend alone with Draco. He didn't realize how much he'd always been on his guard until he didn't have to be anymore. Here, no one who knew either of them was anywhere close, and they could both afford to relax. They went out most days, though not always all day, and Harry delighted in showing Draco the wonders of muggle London. Harry himself hadn't been to all of the places that he showed Draco, and he found just as much pleasure in them as the pureblooded boy did. After one such trip, a visit to the Tower of London, Draco pointed out, "You do realize that we are slowly but surely bankrupting ourselves?"

Harry shrugged. "We'll be able to work in a couple years," he said. "We can easily replenish our accounts then. And you'll inherit all of your family's money when you turn seventeen, won't you?"

Draco nodded. "Most of it, anyway. My parents keep control of a small portion until they die. After that, everything that's left reverts to me."

Harry grimaced. "That sounds unnecessarily complicated," he said.

Draco shrugged. "It's the way it's always worked," he said.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You know, eventually traditions will have to change," he pointed out.

"Maybe, but they haven't so far," Draco said dryly. "And I doubt that they will before I inherit."

"I suppose," Harry agreed.

They stood in silence for a short moment, then Harry said, "You know, you've never said what your family did to get all their money."

Draco shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. We already had most of it when I was born. I suppose that they must have either taken many bribes or been high in the government. My father did that for a while."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "You mean he actually made money instead of just giving it away?"

"Of course he made money! He was on the board of directors, and that pays well. Not to mention that he was high enough up to be getting bribes of his own."

Harry grinned. "Good point," he said.

They started walking again, admiring the perfectly planned gardens. "You know," Harry said suddenly. "They should put in a garden like this at school. Not a maze," he grimaced, shying away from the entire concept of hedge mazes, "but just a garden with flowers."

Draco looked at him in surprise. "I never thought of you as being particularly nature-orientated."

Harry shrugged. "I have my moments," he said. "Sometimes it's nice to be able to lose yourself in nature."

Draco's eyes took on a speculative gleam. "We could plant one of our own," he said, grinning.

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, your house has a yard, doesn't it? We may as well put it to good use."

Harry laughed. "Well, since I have absolutely no experience in gardening, I think you might be on your own."

Draco laughed as well. "To be perfectly honest, I don't have any experience with it either. We could learn, though."

Harry considered the idea, then grinned. "If it makes you happy."

"You're the one who wanted a garden," Draco protested. "I could care less!"

"Then you're going to suffer through our attempts to garden because of me? That's very sweet of you, Draco."

Draco grimaced. "Get one thing through your head, Harry," he snarled. "I. Am. Not. Sweet. Got it?"

Harry widened his eyes innocently. "Yes Draco," he said. "I understand!"

"Good. Now, is there anything special that you want to plant?"

He hadn't been expecting the nightmares. Draco had been fine lately, even happy. But then, he knew from experience how easy it was to shove emotions under your skin and pretend like they didn't matter. He shouldn't have been surprised to know that there were still times when Draco woke up terrified. But he was. He didn't notice the first one until much later and, reflecting back, he berated himself unmercifully. But he didn't see what he wasn't expecting to see, so it passed by unnoticed. The second one, though… It came the night of their excursion to the Tower. Harry was woken up by an insistent pressure in his bladder, and as he slipped into the hallway to relieve himself, he thought that he could hear muffled sobbing from Draco's room.

As he came back from the bathroom, he stopped by the door. Yes, the occupant was definitely crying, but would he welcome Harry's interference? Harry stood outside the door for a long moment, before finally pushing the door open quietly. Sure enough, Draco was curled up in a corner, clutching his pillow to his chest, weeping as quietly he could into it. He started at the noise that Harry made, and turned to look. His face took on a slightly hostile cast.

"What are you doing here, Harry?"

"I heard you from in the hall," Harry said, closing the door behind him. His eyes had adjusted to the faint moonlight coming in from the window, and he had no trouble finding his way to the bed.

"What are you doing up in the first place?"

Harry grimaced. "Eminent bladder explosion," he offered.

Draco sighed. "Don't worry about me," he said. "I'll be fine."

Harry wanted to press him, wanted to be stubborn, but he didn't know just how far he could go. "Are you sure that you don't want to say anything?" It sounded lame, and he knew the answer before it came out of Draco's lips.

"I'll be fine," Draco said.

Harry hesitated, but moved towards the door. He was about to close it behind him, when a soft voice called out, "Wait!"

Harry turned. "Yes?"

Draco looked down, his face flaming. "Just sit with me for a while. Please?"

"Of course." Harry walked back to Draco's bedside and sat down in a chair, reaching over to take Draco's hand in his. Draco held onto it fiercely, clinging as though Harry were his only link to the world. Harry clung back just as strongly, and they didn't talk for a long moment. The only sound in the room was Draco's harsh breathing as he struggled to compose himself. Finally, Draco's grip lessened on Harry's hand, and he breathed a soft sigh.

"Thank you."

"Any time," Harry said. He didn't move, and Draco didn't ask him to. Eventually, the blond boy drifted back into sleep, still clutching Harry's hand. Harry didn't know how long he sat there, watching Draco sleep. He might have dozed off after a while, but he was jerked into full awareness by tightening on his hand. Draco's pale face had gone completely white, and he was breathing hard. He thrashed around for a moment, then went rigidly still.

"Please, no!" he cried out. His eyes sprang open, and Harry could feel the terror that engulfed him. Without thinking, he increased his grip on Draco's hand. The pressure seemed to register in Draco's brain, because he slowly relaxed, and turned to face Harry. His face was still white, but his breathing was slowing to a normal speed. Harry could see the unshed tears glistening in his eyes, but didn't comment. If Draco needed to talk, he would. There was a long moment of silence, and then Draco began to speak. His voice was quiet, steady, but Harry though that he could detect a slight tremor in his words.

"He hit me, when I was younger. When I displeased him, or when he was angry, he would hit me. He thought that I should be like him, cold and uncaring. But I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to stop caring. And so he would hit me. I was terrified of him, you know. I was terrified of him, but I worshiped him at the same time. When I was little, he was the standard that I yearned to reach. As I grew, I realized that I didn't want to be like him, and respect turned to hatred, but the fear was the same. I can't remember a time when I wasn't afraid of him. It was something that permeated my childhood. It ate me from inside, making me into the person that I am. I built walls and barriers, blocking myself off from the world. They're still there, lurking, waiting for something to happen to make them snap back up again."

Harry was horrified. He'd never imagined something like that, never imagined that Draco's childhood had been so terrible. He'd thought his own had been bad, but the Dursleys sounded perfectly angelic when compared to Lucius Malfoy. Draco wasn't crying, though his eyes were still bright. He was waiting for Harry to say something, anything, but Harry had no idea what to say. There wasn't really anything to say. The damage had been done.

"I… I don't know what to tell you," he said finally. "Words can't change the past."

"I know," Draco whispered. "That's why I don't talk about it. It's too painful, and words won't make a difference."

"If you ever need to say anything, though, just tell me. I'll listen."

"But will you understand?"

"I'll try as hard as I can."

Draco sighed. "I suppose that that's as good as I can expect. It's not like I want you to go through that just so that you can understand what I'm talking about."

Harry had to grin at that. "I'm just as glad that you don't," he said.

Draco managed a weak smile. "So am I." They sat in silence for a long time. Finally, Draco said, "You don't have to stay."

"Do you want me to?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't mind."

"Neither would I. Though it would be nice to be able to lie down."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"That depends on what you think, doesn't it?"

"Harry Potter, do you want to sleep with me?"

They both burst out laughing at that. It wasn't even that funny, but they needed to relieve the tension in the room, and the comment came at just the right time. Finally, Harry said, "I would love to, Draco, but I'm afraid that I've sworn to be a virgin until my wedding night."

Draco eyed him approvingly. "I was beginning to wonder about your morals. But it's chilly. If you promise not to try to ravish me in my sleep, I might allow you a little bit of the bed."

"Your virtue is safe in my hands," Harry promised. He slipped off the chair and into the bed. It was still warm from Draco's body heat, and Harry wriggled down until his feet brushed the foot of the bed. He felt Draco shift slightly, relieving the pressure on his arm. He closed his eyes, not letting go of Draco's hand. Whether it was because of the contact, or because the demons had been exorcised for tonight, there were no more nightmares for either of them.

We spend far too much time lounging around doing nothing at all, I'm afraid to say. He'd started the week promising to take me sightseeing, but then managed to forget all about it. Instead, we talked for long hours at a time, speculating on everything from Quidditch to school to politics. The only topic we strenuously avoided was that of our own future. What would happen to us over the summer? I'd be seventeen in June, and he would in July, but what would we do then? Was he willing to drop everything for me, or would this just be a happy accident that wasn't destined to last? I was afraid of the answer, and so didn't ask him the questions.

On Friday morning, I looked out of the window to see rain streaming down the glass. I grimaced. If we'd had any plans for going out today, they were gone now. No one was going anywhere. Harry came down the stairs, meeting me halfway up as I returned to put on a sweater.

"Cold?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

I shrugged. "Rain," I answered. He grinned. I scowled at him, then pushed past to get to my trunk. Once there, I rooted around until I came up with a black wool sweater. I pulled it on over my head, drawing it down carefully to avoid charging my hair with static electricity. He might be willing to walk around with his hair sticking up all over the place, but I wasn't.

I found him cooking breakfast for the two of us. I sat down at the table, and he pushed a bowl of stuff towards me. I eyed it blankly. "What exactly am I supposed to do with this?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. "Stir it," he said. "What did you think you were supposed to do, stare at it?"

"Stop it!" I said, picking up the wooden spoon that stuck out of the mess and rotating it gingerly. "You know perfectly well that I am no good in the kitchen!"

"Then it's high time you learned," he said, expertly whisking a mixture of some kind of fruit sauce around in a pan.

"Why?" I asked. "It's not like I'll ever have to cook in real life."

He snorted. "Oh yeah?" he asked, coming over to me. He watched me for a moment, then shook his head in exasperation. He took the spoon from me and began to stir much more rapidly, somehow avoiding splashing the batter all over the table. "You need to be firm with it," he informed me, giving the spoon back. I started to stir again, but he only grimaced. "No, like this." His hand wrapped around mine, demonstrating the proper way to mix batter. I couldn't concentrate on what he was telling me; all of my attention was fixed on the hand that enveloped mine. He was voluntarily touching me! Even after all his reassurances, I still found it hard to believe that he, Harry Potter, the Golden Boy of Gryffindor, had chosen me, Draco Malfoy, the Ice Prince of Slytherin.

His hand stopped moving over mine, and I felt his eyes travel down until they came to my hand. His gaze lifted and met mine, and he grinned crookedly. I smiled shakily back, reminding myself to breathe.

"Are you actually paying attention to what I'm saying?" he asked.

"Of course I am!" I protested, knowing full well that he would see through the lie.

Sure enough, "Don't even try to lie to me, Draco. I know that you weren't."

I didn't deny it this time, and a trace of laughter crept into his green eyes. "You know," he said quietly, his voice dropping an octave and making me shiver. "We don't have to do this right now."

I stood, taking his meaning perfectly. He drew me towards the center of the room, and we stared at each other for a long moment before he pulled me close and kissed me quite thoroughly.

When we parted, I observed, "If my parents could see me now, they would have a fit."

Harry laughed, but I could see the trace of uncertainty in his face. I knew what he was thinking. "I can't allow them to haunt me forever," I said quietly. "I have to face them someday."

He nodded, still skeptical. I kissed him again, trying to alleviate the tension in his face. I didn't want to deal with my parents now, and I fought to send them back where they came from. I was a bit disgusted that I'd brought them up in the first place, and I realized that it was my responsibility to send them packing once more.

He watched me with those emerald eyes, and I wondered what he was thinking about. Suddenly, I needed desperately to hear him say that he loved me, craved the reassurance that those simple words would bring. "Tell me," I whispered desperately, clinging to him.

He understood perfectly, as I'd hoped he would, and held me back, the strength of his arms a barrier against the demons in my head. "I love you," he whispered firmly into my ear. "I always will."

I didn't respond, didn't thank him. That would cheapen the moment. Instead, I entwined my hands in his hair and kissed him soundly. I never did learn how to stir pancake batter properly.