A/N: the youtube link kept failing; just remove the '*'s and it should be fine now. enjoy

Oceans

www*.*you*tube*.*com/watch?v=gk4EfcKHT9k

Voldemort was sitting at the Malfoys' dining table. The only light was coming from a fire behind him that seemed to fear his presence. He was sitting at the head of the table, with about a dozen of his Death Eaters – as well as Mrs. Malfoy who was accompanying her husband - around him. Their faces were extremely pale, even more than usual, and Narcissa looked like she might have been crying earlier. Nobody was looking at the frozen Charity Burbage suspended above the table. Her body was turning slowly. Tears were flowing down her upside-down face into her matted hair, streaking the blood that was left there from a few hours before. Voldemort was angry. His cold, high voice scared the fire even more, and it almost died away when he started to speak.

"Where's your son, Lucius?" he asked.

"At school, my Lord," he replied nervously.

"Isn't it vacation?" Voldemort asked, laughter almost breaking through his cold anger.

"Yes," Lucius said, looking down.

"Interesting. I've heard he has taken quite an interest in Harry Potter. Can you imagine Lucius, your son and my nemesis, holding hands as they skip off to Charms," Voldemort said, his words dripping with contempt. Draco's father said nothing. His embarrassment was almost tangible.

"This could however be used to get right up close to Mr. Potter. Would you be opposed to the use of your disgrace of a son as bait so I can finally kill Harry?" Lucius by no means had a choice in the matter, and everyone knew that. He nodded his head stiffly. Narcissa took his hand. Tears were forming in her cold eyes. "Good." Voldemort smiled evilly. Then he looked at professor Burbage and killed her without a thought.

Draco was better after his and Harry's talk. He had forgotten that they could tell each other literally everything, and for the first time ever had attempted to bottle up his feelings – obviously it didn't agree with him. He promised himself that he would never try it again. They returned to their classes again that day, and whenever they couldn't hold hands they would find some other way to keep them touching: knees brushing under tables, feet resting on top of each other, hands purposely reaching for the same ink pot…which is why it was exceptionally difficult when Hagrid shouted, "Potter, pair with Weasly," during Care Of Magical Creatures. Neither of them, nor Draco, looked pleased.

Harry and Ron hadn't communicated since the first time they met. Harry had practically forgotten about him – he didn't spend much time dwelling on the doings of Gryffindors. It was very awkward to talk to him, because it was obvious that first night that Harry had chosen Draco over Ron. "Alright," Ron mumbled, scowling at Harry in his Slytherin robes. Harry nodded his head vaguely and put on his gloves. He had never paid attention in this class before - how could he, paired with a magical creature of his own. But apparently being paired with Draco wasn't what distracted him, because even now, with Draco an uncomfortable distance away, he was still the reason why Harry couldn't remember the name of the animal they were working with. It was as if his mere presence distracted Harry.

The positive side was that now he could observe Draco from afar - Harry could see how he was without him around. Harry was secretly pleased to see that Draco was alternating between scowling and sneering at everybody else, because this meant that he was only calm and funny when he was with Harry. Like a ferret who hated everyone but its owner. This angry Draco was certainly not a bad thing. In fact, there was something extremely attractive about him.

"So you take this piece of wood and put it in there…" Ron mumbled.

"What?" Harry said, blushing profusely.

"We are building an owl-house, in case you forgot," Ron said disapprovingly. Harry kept his eyes off Draco for the remainder of the lesson out of fear of getting caught out.

After the lesson, Harry's incriminating blush returned when Draco firmly took his hand. Draco pretended to ignore it but couldn't restrain himself from giving a tiny smile.

"What're you thinking about, Potter?" Harry looked down. Then up at the sky, covered in clouds. They made his eyes burn, so he looked down at the grass again.

"You," he said. Draco smirked.

"Care to be a bit more specific, love?" he was enjoying the look of exasperated embarrassment on Harry's face.

"Erm…I was watching you with the other guys…and you looked quite pissed off and it was kind of…hot," Harry finished eventually. Draco was loving this.

"Sounds like a little lezzy wet dream," he laughed naughtily. "Was I good?" The more he smirked, the more Harry blushed.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" he shouted.

"But you're so cute when you're mad," Draco whispered, his breath almost hitching as he stepped closer to Harry. He was still smirking. He lowered his face to Harry's and tilted his so that their eyes locked. Their bodies were pressed completely against each other. Draco bit his lip. Then he turned and skipped away. Harry almost fell down. He let out the breath he realized he had been holding ever since Draco took that first step towards him. He manipulated his robes to hide his arousal and shakily made his way to where Draco was waiting for him at the top of the hill.

They were lying on Harry's bed, listening to one of the cd's Draco gave Harry for Christmas. It felt like it was years ago. Draco, who was quite an expert at Charms – thanks to all the practice he got throwing hexes at whoever he chose – had charmed Harry's earphones so that there were two pairs of earbuds. Harry was educating Draco in his music, since it was the one thing that the muggles had that was better than the equivalent in the wizarding world.

"It's strange to hear music that doesn't have anything to do with spells or Quidditch or Hippogriffs," Draco said, and Harry laughed.

"Then I bet it's impossible to imagine a life without any of those things," Harry said. Draco nodded.

"Tell me about the Dursleys again," he said.

"Any specific part?" Harry asked.

"Wasn't there one where Hagrid gave Dudley a pig tail?" Harry started telling him about how he found out he was a wizard.

"Tell me about when you were a kid," Harry said when he had finished.

"I was basically a tiny version of my father. Exactly what he wanted. I've had the dark mark ever since I can remember, but my father always told me to cover it up. I thought it was strange, but never questioned him. We had a very formal relationship - still do I guess - and he and my mother as well. She was more understanding to me, despite her own involvement in the dark arts. I guess we just did what typical rich wizard families do; went to Quidditch games, sat in the best seats; got invited to famous wizard parties. I always had to be on my best behavior, because even though I was barely 6 years old I was the heir of Malfoy mansion and had to make a good impression. It was all a drag. Then I met you. The rest is history."

"I wonder what your father would say if he knew about this," Harry said softly.

"He knows," Draco said.

"What?" Harry was genuinely shocked.

"So there was one thing I neglected to tell you. Before my father sent me that letter I sent him one, saying I'm done with that family and that Harry Potter and I are in love," Draco said casually. Harry didn't know whether he should be mad or honored. He chose honored. He hugged Draco, a bit awkwardly since he was lying down and Harry was sitting up, but they maneuvered themselves so that they were both comfortable, and eventually fell asleep.