**Warning! Somewhat graphic scene of a very sexual nature toward the end.**

Their bodies were damp with sweat as they caressed each other, losing themselves in a tangle of kisses and whispers, pressing hot skin against hot skin. There were no boundaries. It was impossible to distinguish between the start of one and the beginning of another. There was no feeling except blissfully pure desire, an all-consuming hunger that created and fed the moment with wild intensity. Lips on lips, and hands finding forbidden places to explore. There was nothing to fear and nothing to dread, because the present moment was all that existed, thriving and expanding on a single kiss, a single touch…a single whisper…

Harry woke with a start, breathing heavily and feeling extremely disoriented. In the darkness, it took him a few seconds to gather his senses and adjust to his surroundings. He reached shakily toward the curtains that enveloped his four-poster bed and pressed them between his fingers, reassuring himself of his reality and inhaling the familiarity around him.

Glancing over at Ron's bed, he wondered if his sleep had been fitful enough to rouse his friend, but heavy snores and grunts indicated that Harry was the only one who lay awake.

The next morning would be the start of the last day of examinations, and Harry silently cursed himself for not being able to get the sleep he so desperately needed. For the past five nights, he had irreversibly been shaken into consciousness by dreams that always left him feeling achy and unsatisfied. He didn't feign ignorance. He knew what the dreams were about, but he felt that he would give an arm and a leg to make them disappear from his mind for good.

After the finality of their conversation in the Trophy Room, Draco and Harry hadn't exchanged so much as a single glance, and the persistent image of Malfoy in his dreams was doubling the already-difficult task of erasing their brief but intense relationship from his thoughts.

Harry groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, trying to fall back into sleep, but his brain was working feverishly, and he couldn't seem to prevent Draco's face from drifting annoyingly across his mind.

"Why can't I just get over this…" he thought in exhaustion, pressing his face into his pillow, "I've hated him for six years so WHY can't I just…get over this…"

Giving up all hope of sleep, he dragged himself from beneath the warmth of his blankets and quietly made for the door that led down into the common room. After settling himself into his favorite armchair, he realized shakily that the last time he had been here in the middle of the night had been only a few short hours before he and Malfoy had shared their first kiss.

He stared into the few remaining embers that glowed in the fireplace, as if somehow they might offer him the answers he needed so badly, but they simply twinkled up at him dimly, and he slowly sank back into the chair to wait for the first light of dawn.

-

"Oh, Harry, don't tell me you've been up all night again!" Harry drifted from his stupor and raised his eyes to see Hermione standing at the entrance to the common room with her hands on her hips, still wearing a dark blue bathrobe. Feeling too weary to lie, Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes, Hermione, I've been up all night again," he mumbled into his lap, and she clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"You'll never be able to make it through exams today," she stated and walked toward him in the dull morning light. "How come you didn't sleep?"

Harry shook his head slightly and turned away, wanting to be left alone again. "You know," Hermione continued, taking the seat opposite him, "I'm not stupid." Harry looked up and gave his friend a questioning glance.

"Well, I'm glad you finally figured that out about yourself, Hermione," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Took you long enough."

She sighed impatiently.

"I'm not stupid about you, Harry," she corrected him, holding him with a steely gaze, and he felt his insides begin to churn uncomfortably. "I'd have to be blind and deaf to miss all the clues, and, to be frank, I'm sick and tired of walking on eggshells around you and wondering if you'll ever decide to talk about it."

Harry pressed his hand despairingly against his head and wished that he could somehow disappear, but his friend continued to talk. "So, Harry," she said briskly, "you're not leaving this chair until you tell me exactly what's been going on, and I mean exactly. You've never been good at lying, so don't even try."

Harry half-heartedly attempted to think of a way that he could escape the conversation and still remain Hermione's friend, but she had a determined glint in her eyes, and Harry realized that he had been avoiding this encounter for long enough.

Reluctantly, he let his hands fall away from his face, and he looked into Hermione's eyes. He had no strength left for dishonesty. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to prepare himself for whatever her reaction might be.

"You have to understand…that I never…I mean I never planned for it to happen…" he began, holding on to the arms of the chair rigidly. "Never in a million years would I ever…but…I did…well, no, he did…but it was because of the spell…" he realized that he was only making a very small amount of sense, and he took another deep breath. "Okay, I'll start from the beginning," he continued, after taking a deep breath. I was walking…and I came across Malfoy. He was behind a bush. I just…I followed him…and he said some things that made me angry, and so I…well, I actually…okay, I sort of…cursed him, but not really!" he insisted, on seeing Hermione's expression. "Not really, because…what happened next, well, funny really, actually not at all…we, er…he came up to me and, he, you know…" Hermione was looking quizzically at him.

"Actually, I don't know," she said bluntly, and Harry exhaled impatiently.

"Don't make me say it," he mumbled. "What is the last thing in the world that you would expect Malfoy and me to be doing behind a bush?"

Looking up, he saw realization spread gradually across Hermione's face, and his stomach plummeted in anticipation.

"Do you mean that you…that the two of you…"

"Yes," Harry said shortly, and he felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Yes, that's what I mean, and, just wait until you hear the whole story to say anything, okay? Remember when I asked you to look up those Latin words for me?" She nodded quietly. "Right, well, that was the curse…the spell…that I used, and…I found out that it meant…that it meant…" He cleared his throat and gripped the chair even more tightly. "It meant that…I had…revealed Malfoy's true feelings."

He didn't want to give Hermione an open space to talk, so he continued quickly, "And I met him in the Trophy Room, to tell him, you know, and it…happened again, and then…Quidditch…we were playing, you know, then…the hospital wing, and we…talked…really, we did Hermione! We talked, and it was great, it was brilliant, because I never knew that another side of him even existed, and now…now we, I just…he's leaving, with his father, and I just wish I could hate him again, but I can't, and I, I don't know what to do…" His voice trailed off miserably and there was a vast silence that seemed to press in on him from all corners of the room. He wondered if Hermione was too disgusted to even open her mouth and speak.

However, after a few painfully long seconds, she rose from her chair and walked over to him, putting her hand comfortingly on his shoulder and smiling at him a little sadly.

"No wonder you've been out of sorts lately," she whispered, looking into his strained eyes. "I won't pretend that I'm happy to see you going through this, but Harry, I'm really glad that you told me, and everything's going to be okay."

Harry felt an immense rush of relief coursing through his body, and he suddenly felt so much lighter, as if just by listening to him, by not passing judgment, Hermione had taken some of his pain.

"You don't…hate me?" he asked quietly, not wanting to let himself believe it until it had been confirmed. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Of course not, Harry!" she said, giving him a light slap on the cheek. "I mean, come on! I'm your friend. I'm here to help you, not hate you. How could you think that?" Harry slowly let his muscles relax, and he looked at Hermione in a way that simply said "Thank you." He didn't even need to speak the words. She smiled again and sat down on the floor in front of him. "Don't mention it," she said gently, "Now, come on and tell me the whole story, details and all."

Harry grinned and began to talk, freely letting himself unload for the first time in what seemed like a decade, and by the time the large school clock indicated that it was seven in the morning, he had almost talked himself hoarse. As they both rose to head down to the great hall, he felt overwhelmed by the feeling of gratitude he held in his heart for Hermione. She was a true friend, and he wasn't alone with the weight of his secret anymore. Watching the rays of sun as they danced in through the open windows, he began to feel a little glimmer of hope.

"Potions as the last exam," Ron said in irritation as he, Harry, and Hermione made their way down to the dungeons. "Why couldn't it have been anything else?"

"Honestly, Ron, it's not that bad," Hermione scolded, flipping through her book as she walked and trying to review some of the theories. "I mean, it's a lot better with Slughorn, and this will probably be loads easier than McGonagall's exam. Even I thought that was difficult-"

"Right. I got it, Hermione," Ron mumbled as they neared the entrance to the room. The three of them walked toward their seats, but as Harry was about to sit down, he noticed a small piece of parchment on his chair. With a bemused expression, he picked it up and looked around to see if anyone near him had misplaced it.

When no one made any claims to the paper, he slowly unfolded it, and his chest constricted tightly at what he saw. It would have made no sense to anyone else, but he understood it perfectly, as well as if a note had been written out in detail. In the upper right corner there was a miniscule drawing of a trophy. There was nothing else on the parchment, but it spoke volumes to him, and he looked over at Malfoy, who returned his stare softly with a glint in his eyes.

Harry's mind drifted for the entirety of the exam, but he had never cared less about school and grades. The only thing that he could concentrate on was watching the wall-clock and praying for time to move just a little bit more quickly.

Finally, after what seemed like centuries of waiting, Professor Slughorn cleared his throat and announced that it was time for them to collect their potion samples in glass vials and bring them to the front of the room. Harry stared at the fuming mess in his cauldron and shoveled a small amount into his vial before delivering it to Slughorn. "Oh well, it's only one bad grade," he thought half-heartedly, cleaning up his area of the table with a scourgify charm.

Remembering the piece of parchment, his heart sped up, and he threw a glance over his shoulder toward Malfoy who gave him a significant look. Harry felt his face and neck heat up alarmingly, and he turned around carelessly, colliding head-on with Hermione as she was packing up.

"Careful, Harry!" she chided, picking up her books which had fallen to the ground. "It's a good thing I just cleaned up my cauldron or you'd be soaked in a very unpleasant potion right now!" Harry felt flustered and nodded in embarrassment.

"Sorry about that, Hermione," he said, reaching down to help her with her books and then, in an undertone, he whispered, "I'm meeting Malfoy in the Trophy Room. He gave me…sort of a note…" Hermione looked up in surprise.

"I thought you said everything ended," she whispered back, glancing toward Malfoy's end of the room.

"Stop that," Harry hissed. "Don't look, and yeah, I did, because I thought it had. There must be something else that he needs to tell me." Hermione appeared worried for some reason, and Harry looked at her curiously. "What?" he asked pointedly, and she sighed.

"No, nothing, Harry. It's just that…I don't like seeing you like this, and I don't want…I don't want everything to start all over again."

Harry gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"I can handle this. Don't worry," he said with a smile, but she looked unconvinced.

"Can you, Harry?"

At that moment, Ron squatted on the floor beside them and looked back and forth from Harry's face to Hermione's.

"What are we whispering about?" he asked with a grin, and Harry shrugged casually, deciding to ignore Hermione's comment.

"Just exam bashing," he said, getting to his feet, and Ron's grin widened.

"Yeah, tell me about it," he said cheerfully. "I couldn't even read the 4th step of the procedure. I think it said something about adding honey liquor, but I just skipped it." The three of them exited the Dungeon together, Ron still chattering about what a failure his potion had been, but when they reached the stairs, Harry cleared his throat and announced that he had to make a detour to the Owlery.

"Who are you writing to?" Ron asked, and Harry avoided Hermione's accusatory gaze.

"Oh I…no one…Hedwig's been looking a bit ill, and I just wanted to check in, see how she's doing, so I'll just meet the two of you later, back in the Common Room." He could feel Hermione's eyes boring into the side of his face.

"We'll come with you," Ron said, turning to follow Harry, but he shook his head fiercely.

"No. I mean, I'll go alone, thanks. I need, you know, the time, to myself." Ron looked a little hurt, so Harry smiled warmly. "No offense, really. I'll be back before you guys know it."

He turned and headed toward the owlery, but once his two friends were out of view, he doubled back and raced as fast as he could toward the Trophy Room, his mind spinning with thoughts about why Malfoy could have possibly arranged this meeting. "Could it…could it be-," he wondered, remembering the look in Draco's eyes. His stomach flip-flopped.

When he reached the heavy doors, he paused for a minute, taking a second to breathe deeply and gather his senses, and then he slowly pushed them open, walking into what was now becoming quite a familiar place to him.

Malfoy was standing at the opposite end of the room, running his hands over one of the largest trophies, and he barely glanced up when Harry entered.

"Come look at this," he said quietly, although his voice echoed strangely against the walls, and Harry raised his eyebrows curiously as he walked over. Draco was gazing at a trophy with the initials T.R engraved on it, and Harry watched him in puzzlement.

"Who's T.R?" he asked as Malfoy traced the golden letters with his fingertips.

"T.R…Tom Rutherford…" Malfoy began, "He was a student here about thirty years ago or so, but that's not the point. He…after school, he became a death eater…" His voice faded momentarily, and he pursed his lips slightly before continuing. "There was…a job…that he was supposed to complete," Malfoy continued finally, still resting his hand on the brass. "No one knows what it was exactly, but it involved Hogwarts. It involved the students." Harry wondered which direction this was going. "The thing is…the thing is…Tom couldn't do it, whatever it was. He couldn't put the students in danger, and so he protected them, and he warned Dumbledore. He knew that he would be murdered. He knew that the Dark Lo-…that…he wouldn't be able to survive. Dumbledore was the last one who spoke to him before he left the school that night. He tried to offer Tom protection, but Tom wouldn't accept it. He…the last words he said…he looked at Dumbledore and said, 'forgive me.' He was killed a few hours later…" Malfoy looked up at Harry for the first time and his face was unreadable.

"Draco, why are you telling me this?" Harry asked softly, wracking his brain for any memory of a "Tom Rutherford." Malfoy hesitantly let his hand fall away from the trophy.

"I just wanted you to see that there are people out there who change," he mumbled quietly, looking away again, his blonde hair catching a ray of sun, and Harry felt an deep ache in his heart. He put his hand on Malfoy's shoulder, turning him so that they were facing each other.

"I know that there are people who change," Harry said, wanting nothing more than to wrap Draco up in his arms and keep him safe forever. "Plenty of people change."

Draco looked at the floor for a few seconds and then turned sharply away again, twisting defiantly away from Harry's touch. Utterly bewildered at the change in demeanor, Harry stepped back a little, wondering what he had done.

"Draco," he began cautiously, "I don't know what it is that you want me to say."

The boy's shoulders were rising and falling rapidly, as if he were breathing heavily, and he carefully turned around, placing one hand on the trophy again as if for support. There was a glint in his eyes that had not been present before…

"I want you to say that I could be someone who changes!" he said, glaring at Harry as though he had offended him in some way. "I want you to say that, because I can't say it, but you can't either, can you?" Harry's stomach lurched painfully, and he reached for Draco, but Draco scrambled away, a look of desperate pain in his eyes. "Why can't you say it, Harry? Why couldn't that be me? Why couldn't I do something like that? You don't think I'm strong enough! You don't thin-"

"Draco, stop it," Harry interrupted, reaching out to grip Malfoy's arm. He had cornered Draco against the wall. "Just stop it! I didn't say anything like that, and that's not what I think." Malfoy furiously tried to pull away, but Harry held fast, his throat going dry. Quite unexpectedly, Malfoy kicked Harry brutally in the shin, and Harry swore, shoving Malfoy painfully against the hard stone.

"Get away from me!" Malfoy yelled in Harry's face, attempting to kick him again, but Harry dodged the blow. "I was fine before all of this. I was FINE! You ruined me, Harry. Look at me! Look at me…"

Suddenly, without thinking, he pulled Malfoy fiercely into an embrace, tucking his head into the warm place where Draco's neck met his shoulder. He felt the tears that he had so desperately avoided begin to fall, and his chest shook with silent sobs as he finally allowed himself to feel every dangerous emotion that he had kept at arm's length. He could feel Malfoy's chest rising and falling erratically as well, and he had a half-formed thought about how strange they would look to anyone walking in…Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy crying in each other's arms.

With trembling hands, Harry lifted Draco's chin and stared into his clear, tear-moist eyes. He gently pressed his lips against Draco's forehead, feeling the soft skin that had grown hot with anger. "I…love you," he almost whispered, knowing that he truly did, and before the other boy could respond, Harry kissed him, first flicking his tongue across Draco's lower lip and then pressing more firmly, begging for entrance. Without hesitation, Draco opened his mouth and pulled Harry against him, groaning as Harry's tongue began to thrust against his own, tasting all of him, taking control. Harry knew the risks of this encounter, and he didn't care. "Let them come," he thought as his hands traveled up and down Draco's sides, finally slipping underneath the hem of his shirt and roaming toward his chest. "Let them come. At least then, there'd be nothing left to hide."

Instinct took over, and Harry's fingers found Draco's nipples, pinching them slightly before caressing them with the rough pads of his thumbs. Draco's knees buckled, and he gasped loudly, the back of his head hitting the wall with a dull crack.

"Careful, Draco," Harry said, surprised to hear the huskiness in his own voice, but Draco was beyond the point of logic or clarity. Weaving his fingers through Harry's hair, he yanked hard, forcing Harry's head back.

"Draco!" Harry sputtered indignantly, but it turned to a moan almost immediately as he felt Draco's tongue connect with his Adam's apple, licking the sensitive skin there furiously.

"Unngg," he groaned nonsensically, "God, Draco, that feels good." Malfoy continued to suck feverishly, one hand still wound through Harry's hair and the other one moving tantalizingly down his stomach. At the top of Harry's pants, Draco stopped, pulling back for a moment.

"W-why did you stop?" Harry gasped, his voice shaking with need. "Draco, please…" he trailed off, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Malfoy was drawing little circles with his fingertips on the skin of Harry's lower abdomen, staring hungrily at the obvious bulge in his jeans.

"You are…so hot," Draco said, his voice deeper than Harry had ever heard it. He felt a warm blush creep across his cheeks."I have to touch you," Draco continued, his fingers drifting ever-so-slightly lower. "Can I? Touch you?" Harry felt his cock twitch as he imagined Malfoy's hands on him.

"God, Draco," he breathed, "I might have to kill you if you don't."

It was the only encouragement Draco needed. With a strangled sound somewhere in the back of his throat, he began to fumble with Harry's fly, dragging the heel of his other hand down Harry's erection as he did so. Harry was feeling genuinely concerned that he might spontaneously combust, or at least "combust" in another manner before things had even really gotten under way, and he closed his eyes, trying to focus on his own breathing, in and out, in and out. Just as he was starting to regain a bit of composure, he felt the hot skin of Draco's hand against his boxers, and he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from coming right on the spot. A mere moment later, Draco had pulled him out and was gripping his bare cock gently, his thumb rubbing across the head in a way that nearly made Harry's legs collapse. "Fuck, Oh god," he hissed, surprising himself with his own language, and Draco's eyes met his.

"Harry, how did I live without this?" he asked suddenly, his face filled with wonder. "How WILL I live without this? I can't. I just…" His words faded as quickly as they had begun, and he began to stroke in earnest, his eyes growing dark and heavily-lidded with lust. Harry noticed that his other hand had drifted to his own crotch, where he was absentmindedly matching the rhythm he was using on Harry.

"Draco, let me," Harry whispered, his stomaching tightening with the desire to touch Draco as Draco was touching him. Without waiting for a response, his fingers found Draco's zipper and quickly had it undone. Within only a few seconds, he had Draco's cock in his grip, and he had never felt anything quite so appealing. The sight of it in his hand was almost too much. He groaned and had to rest his other hand temporarily on the wall to steady himself.

Draco was shaking and whispering things into the air between them, dirty things, Harry thought, although the English language was currently evading him. It seemed that his vocabulary had been reduced to a few choice words such as "god," "yes," and "fuck," (which he had never said at all until a few minutes ago) as well as a few phrases that didn't contain any real words at all.

After what could have been ten seconds or an hour, he felt Draco's muscles tense and looked up to see that his eyes were partially rolled back in his head and his breathing was ragged.

"I'm going to-fuck, Harry, I'm-"

Before he could even finish the sentence, Harry felt wet heat pulse into his hand. As his eyes traveled from Draco's pleasure-convulsed face to his throbbing cock, he came wildly, thrusting into Draco's hand with a loud cry and feeling as though he were being poured, body and soul, into whatever dome of connection surrounded them in that moment.

When the aftershocks had faded, he felt himself collapsing, and Draco followed suit. Tangled up in each other and lying in exhaustion on the cold, stone floor, the two boys listened to the sounds of their own breathing that reverberated throughout the room. Harry shivered slightly as the thin sheen of perspiration that coated his skin started to chill him, and Malfoy pulled him closer, wrapping his body around Harry's chest.

"Do you think it's bad that this happened?" Malfoy whispered into Harry's neck, "I mean…since we're both leaving tomorrow?" Harry ran his fingers softly through Draco's hair.

"No…I don't think so…"

The silence seemed almost comforting, and Harry found himself wishing that time would stop indefinitely so that they would never have to face the perils of tomorrow, or of the next day, or of the next day…

However, knowing that time would continue as it always did, Harry gently raised himself to his elbows and looked down at Malfoy, who smiled at him in the afternoon light.

"Draco," he began, softly pushing a lock of hair from Malfoy's eyes, "Tom Rutheford…you could do what he did. You could do more than that. So much more." It was only a small sentence, only a few words, but Harry knew that it was exactly what Draco needed to hear.

He slowly placed his head back on Malfoy's chest, and after a few more minutes of silence drifted by, he heard Draco clear his throat.

"Harry," he whispered, running his fingertips down the back of Harry's neck.

"Yeah?" Harry responded with a little shiver.

"I…I love you too."