The Great Hall was always reliably loud on Monday mornings. The students acted as if they hadn't seen each other over the weekend. So many people were entering and exiting The Great Hall at the same time that it was hard to notice specific people, only Harry did. Draco's stark black robes and fair skin stood out among the assortment of colors the students had on. He walked across The Great Hall with his head held low, as if he hoped he could blend into the floor that he walked on. He sat down next to Harry without saying hello. He noticed the deep bags hanging under Draco's eyes; they hadn't been there in a long time.

Harry was once again tempted to break his promise to himself and attempt to try and talk to him, but the look on Draco's face suggested that if he tried, Harry would get cursed into next week. Faint lines of worry and nervousness streaked across his pale face, making him look much older than he actually was.

Draco's gaze remained firmly stuck to his food until owls came flying in with the morning post. His eyes darted back and forth between the owls zooming around the ceiling as if he were terrified that one would deliver something to him. After all of the owls fled The Great Hall, he let out a long breath and let his head hang low once again. Without a word, or barely touching his food, he got up and left the hall.

Harry's second period class on Monday's was first year Slytherins and Gryffindors. The combination always led to annoying chatter and whispering throughout the class. As per usual, the students came into the classroom talking loudly about the latest Hogwarts gossip and drama. Normally Harry did his best to zone it out; he didn't really want to know what his students did behind closed doors, but today the babbling caught his attention.

"Professor Malfoy looked awful today, Toby," said a student named Violet. "Yeah I know he barely spoke today. He almost didn't notice that Josh's potion had started to sing the national anthem of Botswana." Toby replied. "He kept on rereading the same sheet of paper over and over again." Violet finished.

Harry with held a grunt of frustration. He hated knowing that his friend was in pain. It made Harry feel angry, yet strangely sad that Draco didn't trust him enough to tell him what it was. Out of all of the stories that they had shared with one another, he couldn't tell him this one?

Harry felt himself being distracted throughout the rest of his classes; he managed to drop two glass jars, and failed to notice that a grindylow was sneaking its way out of its tank. He only noticed when a Ravenclaw boy started screaming as it got closer to him.

I'm so stupid. If Saturday never happened, then Draco might have told me what was bothering him. Harry thought to himself. The idea of leaving Draco alone started to seem more and more ridiculous with every whisper he heard about him. By the end of the day, Harry was going stir-crazy. He needed to know what was happening to Draco. He dismissed his last class of the day five minutes early just so he could find Draco.

Harry half walked, half ran down to the basement. The torches on the wall flickered as he ran past them. Some of the paintings started to yell at him angrily for disturbing them with his, "Childish whim." "I'm a teacher, stop nagging me!" Harry retorted.

He neared the final staircase that led to the dungeon. He used the railing to help turn himself around faster. That is when he ran face first into McGonagall.

"Harry! What on earth are you running from?" McGonagall questioned with more surprise than anger. "Professor I needed to talk to- Wait why are you in the basement?" Harry interrupted himself. "I could ask you the same thing, Harry! If you must know, I was just having a chat with Professor Malfoy-" "Draco? Professor, is everything all right with him?" Harry interrupted again.

Whatever surprise was left on McGonagall's face fled immediately. She pinched her lips into a firm line, closing her face of all emotion.

"Draco is going through some… difficulties at the moment. I felt that I was responsible to check up on him, given that I am the Headmistress, and that all of my classes have walked in talking about him." McGonagall spoke almost as if she were reciting lines from a textbook. Her eyes and voice were steady, her posture tall.

"If you'll excuse me, I am going to go to talk to him."

"No you will not, Harry. You are supposed to be up in The Great Hall right now; you are in charge of dinner."

"But Professor, dinner doesn't start until fifteen minutes."

"Harry, I-"

"Professor, please."

"He doesn't want to talk to you." McGonagall spoke quietly. Harry froze in shock. "W-What?" Harry said at the same volume. McGonagall took a deep breath before continuing. "When I went to speak with him, he was very adamant that you did not go to visit him. He seemed to know that you would come."

Harry stood speechless. He did not know that Draco didn't want to see him that much. Hurt flowed through him line a river tumbling down a mountain. In a strange way, he felt like he was rejected. All he wanted to do was to help, to heal. Draco had let him before.

The more Harry thought about it, the more he realized that this time was not like before. The first time, when Draco had lost control of his emotions, Harry was just conveniently standing next to him. And the second time in the teacher's common room, Draco was just explaining himself from the first time. This time, Draco being upset had absolutely nothing to do with Harry; Draco owed him no explanations or reasons. Harry had felt almost entitled to help Draco because he was his friend, but he quickly realized that he wasn't entitled at all.

"Oh," Harry stated. What else was there to say? McGonagall's firm stare softened slightly. "Was he… supposed to want to talk to you?" McGonagall asked hesitantly. She seemed to know that she was treading on a very fine line between his business and her own, yet she persisted anyway. "No, I just- No. Nevermind, I was just curious." Harry quickly covered. "Come, I was just on my way to the hall, will you accompany me?"

The hall was loud and noisy as usual. The sound of forks and knives scraping the bottom of plates filled the hall. Despite what everyone else was doing, Harry didn't eat very much. Draco's chair was filled with the same substitute teacher that filled in for him the first time he took leave.

Harry ended up taking another bath that night. He let the darkness and silence swallow him whole. Normally he closed his eyes and let his mind simmer, but today his eyes were blown wide open, staring into nothingness, trying to catch on of the thousands of thoughts zooming around his head.

Why had he let McGonagall talk to him, but not Harry? Even if McGonagall knew the things that Harry knew about Draco, he hardly thought that they shared the same bond. The fact that Draco had a substitute teacher fill in for him must mean that whatever was bothering him was bad. It pained Harry to think that Draco could possibly be harming himself again. Harry shuttered at the memory of the dark bruises and cuts that patterned his face after his first episode. Harry knew what Draco was capable of doing to himself, and he was scared for him.

Harry knew even before he closed his eyes that tonight would not be a peaceful one for him. He tried to calm himself down as if it would help to scare away the nightmares; he was wrong.

He didn't make it to the toilet this time; as soon as Harry woke up, he vomited all over his bed. When nothing more came up, he started to dry heave. He habitually wrapped his arms around himself, as if searching for an embrace that wasn't there. As if somehow, if he held himself tight enough, he could squeeze out all of the fear that remained stirring inside of him.

After a long while, Harry looked down at the mess he had made. Struggling to choose between anger and disgust as his motivation, Harry picked himself up out of his mess and went straight into the shower. He let the water erase all of the tensions his nightmares had provoked. He imagined them seeping down the drain and into The Black Lake, never to be heard of again.

Once dressed, Harry attended to his soiled bed sheets. Five different cleaning spells were required to remove the spill. Even though the sheets were now clean by magic's standards, he still took the time to change them by hand, throwing the old ones in his small laundry hamper. He didn't want the smell of weakness and fear lingering on his pillowcase longer than it had to be.

The Great Hall was loud and buzzing as it always was. It seemed strange that the world around him looked normal, but he himself felt as if he was hit in the chest by a tempest. The substitute teacher sat in the chair that normally belonged to Draco.

When the owl post came in, Harry was surprised to see a letter dropped in front of him by a giant barn owl. The messy, slanted writing was one that he did not recognize. Turning the letter over in his hand, Harry realized that the letter was from George.

Harry,

I meant to ask you on Saturday, but quite clearly things got out of hand, and I didn't have the chance to. Is it possible that you could sneak down to The Three Broomsticks tomorrow? I meant to catch up with you on Saturday, but, well, you know how that went.

See you Wednesday,

George

Harry was not sure whether to be skeptical or angry. George was there when Ron and the others were gloating him about Draco; but, coming to think of it, George did not partake in any of it. It would also provide a well-needed distraction from what was happening around the castle. Curious about why George wanted to talk, Harry scribbled a hasty reply and sent if off with the same owl that delivered the initial letter.

Harry was the last to leave the dining hall; all the students had left for their first period classes by the time he stood up. Harry started to walk down the hall when Draco appeared at the mouth of the doorway.

He looked worse than he did before; the bags under his eyes had grown in size, swallowing up his grey eyes whole. His bottom lip looked bitten raw, and his knuckles were red. Despite his appearance, it seemed that all of his pains were from lack of sleep or worry, not from loss of control. Harry let a small amount of the breath he had been holding escape into the tangible thick of air. Draco didn't notice that Harry was in the hall; he continued his journey towards the staff table without looking up.

"Draco!" The call bounced around the now empty chamber, making Harry's voice sound like millions of tiny raindrops.

He looked up and stumbled backwards, nearly falling. He looked startled that someone had noticed him. His eyes searched around frantically, as if what ever had called out his name was about to attack him.

Even when his eyes landed on Harry, his tense posture did not fade. Harry met his stare with his own, if was full of questioning and worry.

Draco slowly opened his mouth to speak, but just as he did so, an owl came flying into The Great Hall, dropping a letter at Draco's feet. Draco flinched as the letter dropped within inches of his black shoes. His stare shifted from Harry to the letter on the ground; he glared at it with a mixture of fiery anger and fear.

Just as Harry dared to take a step forward towards Draco, Draco broke his concentration with the letter. He scooped it up with the tips of his fingers, and moved out of the hall with a swiftness that looked almost magically induced.

Harry stood there for a moment, not comprehending what he just witnessed. A cold feeling started to seep through him and into his bones. Before he could dissect what had just happened any further, a student came rushing into the hall.

"Professor, a Slytherin just cast a bat bogey hex on Toby, and," she shuttered. "It's a mess."

Ripping his mind from Draco, he let the student lead him out of the hall to the source of the bat bogey crisis.

The hex had been surprisingly well placed; it had taken the hospital wing quite a long time to completely remove the affects of it.

The rest of the day, the students came in laughing about Toby's face when the student, who has now been identified as Mary, cast the hex on him. Although the students found the prank to be hilarious, Harry did not. The mess in the corridor was stupendous, and being the only teacher around at the time, he was forced to help Filch clean it up. Harry started to appreciate why the teachers hated Fred and George so much. Listening to Filch bicker about whipping students who didn't follow school policy for forty-five minutes was quite a punishment for something that he did not do.

Towards the end of the day, Harry found himself walking with the students into the dining hall. His attention casually drifted between various conversations until one in particular caught his ear.

"That bang was ginormous!"

"Yeah, I know! The stone walls in the dungeons made the sound echo so loudly!"

"The rumor is that a couple of students heard it the loudest while walking past Professor Malfoy's room."

That was the final straw. Harry was sick and tired of hearing snivels of information about Draco from students' conversations. He was tired feeling helpless in a situation where he didn't have to be. That was the final straw. Harry turned swiftly on his heel and broke into a run towards the staircase that led to the dungeons.

All of the students were up at dinner, so the dungeons were eerily silent. Harry heard his heavy breath echoing in his ears as he picked up his pace. When he finally reached the door to Draco's room, he swung it open without bothering to knock.

Draco sat on his bed with his legs hanging over the edge. He was not wearing wizard robes, only a black tee-shirt and black sweat pants. His pale skin seemed to reflect the little light that was in the room. The single candle threw strange, flickering shadows across his face.

In his hand was a letter; he stared at it with the intensity of a snake stalking its prey. His hands were visibly shaking; his knuckles were white from where he gripped the letter so firmly.

His gaze shot up from his letter as soon as Harry burst into the door. His face flickered between fear and relief.

"Get out, Harry."

"No."

"Get out."

"No."

Harry closed the door behind him. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doors in an attempt to look relaxed, but anyone could easily tell his muscles were tense against the wooden panel.

"Harry, I don't want you to be here."

"Well too bad. You have been absent from school, you haven't been eating, and you look like shit." Draco held his breath. His silence was a signal for Harry to continue.

"I had to ask McGonagall what was wrong with you, but she wouldn't tell me. She told me you didn't want to see me. I thought you were hurting yourself again. I figured that we know enough shit about one another that I could help, but I couldn't, because you wouldn't let me. I didn't know what you were doing to yourself. I couldn't stand the thought that you might have been hurting yourself again." Harry's eyes widened in surprise, as if he didn't think he could have admitted that out loud. He took a step towards Draco; instinctively, Draco hugged the letter in his hands tightly to his chest, refusing to let Harry see it.

"I don't want your help." Draco choked. "I need you to get out of my room, Harry, or I swear I will curse you." Although his tone was filled with venom, his eyes portrayed otherwise. His eyes looked vulnerable and scared, as if he wanted to tell Harry what was wrong, but that he could not.

Harry pulled a chair from the small table in his room and dragged it directly in front of Draco. He sat down so his knees were touching Draco's lightly.

"I think you do want my help, but I think you are scared. Draco, let me see the letter."

"I am not scared you git! You can't help me! Get out of my room!"

Draco's eyes widened. It was almost as if he couldn't believe that Harry was still sitting in front of him. Harry decided to ignore his statement, and reached forward until his fingers gently wrapped around Draco's wrist. Harry inhaled sharply as the memories from the locker room came flooding back to him. He temporarily froze, reconsidering what he was doing.

Harry firmly shoved those thoughts aside; what he was doing now was helping a friend in need, and was not relative to anything that happened that day. Whatever had happened then was far and separate from why he was touching Draco now.

Draco watched Harry's hands as they gently folded around his wrists. Although his grip was firm, there was no malice in it, as so many people who he had trusted gripped him before.

"Draco, let me read the letter."

Draco snapped out of his thoughts immediately. He pushed himself off of Harry and into the wall behind him. He balled his knees into his chest, covering the letter protectively.

Harry noticed how small Draco looked; he was no longer his arrogant school mate, but the small boy that watched his mother get tortured, and got beaten by his father. He looked scared and frantic, as if Harry would suddenly lash out and beat him if he didn't comply with his wishes.

"Draco, I am not going to hurt you. I want to help, but I can't do that unless you let me." Harry spoke as if he were speaking to a small child who needed to be reassured that there were no monsters under his bed.

"I can't." Draco's voice waivered. "I can't, I can't, I can't-"

"You can," Harry said firmly. "You can, I know it."

"There is nothing you can do."

"You don't know that unless you show me!" Harry immediately regretted raising his voice. Draco shied away from him immediately. It was not longer just his hands that were shaking. Harry took a deep breath before what he said next.

"Draco, I know your trust has been betrayed in the past; mine has been too. But that didn't stop me from telling you about my nightmares, or you telling me about yours. Part of moving on is learning to trust again, because no man can stay warped in his own brain forever. No one is an island. Please let me help you. Please trust me."

Draco seemed to be struggling for air. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably. Harry could see him fighting a war in his head between trust and habit. His eyes were unfocused; to request his stare seemed like it might overwhelm him.

Very slowly, he unraveled his arm from the tangle of limbs he held closed to his chest. He extended his arm inch by inch. Harry didn't dare and reach out for the letter himself; he thought it would scare him. When the letter was finally being held in front of him, Harry reached for it with light, but precise fingers. Draco let his arm drop and hang from his side. With a deep breath, Harry began to read out loud.

Mr. Malfoy,

The Ministry has carefully considered your appeal to the court, and although well thought out, your request has been denied. A court hearing to determine the freedom of Mr. Lucius Malfoy from Azkaban Prison will be held on Saturday, October thirty-first at ten in the morning sharp. Your presence will be required; fail to do so, and you will be subject to questioning yourself.

Have a wonderful day,

The Ministry of Magic.

Halfway through the letter, Draco had shoved his palms to his ears, as if not being able to hear the contents of the letter would make it go away entirely.

Harry stilled. He didn't know the Mr. Malfoy was still alive. Although no evidence had been shared to prove that he was dead, he had always just assumed that he was. One could only weasel their way around the law so much.

Harry put the letter on the nearside table. Draco's eyes were clamped shut now as well.

"Draco, I put the letter down, you can open-"

"They are going to release him!" Draco suddenly yelled. Harry jumped at his sudden raise in volume. "He still has connections in The Ministry, they are going to release him, and force him to live with me!" Draco's hands now clamped around the blankets that covered his bed. He made no move to cover the fear in his voice. Every time his voice cracked, it was almost as if all of the safety he had felt after the war was slowly seeping out of him.

"Draco, they can only release him if they have evidence! I can help you-"

"Don't you get it? This is what he does! He manipulates everyone around him so he can always find his way back to me! That wasn't the only time he beat me you know!" Draco trembled, a dark aura surrounding him. He stood up and started to pace the room.

"I don't have enough fingers and toes to count the time he has used the Cruciatus curse on me! You don't know what it is like, to be in constant fear of the people you are supposed to love!"

Draco picked up a book and threw it against the wall. Harry sat frozen, glued to his seat. He wasn't sure whether it would be better to let him release his energy, or to stop him.

"Why couldn't my parents have died like yours?" Draco screamed. "Why do my parents get to live, making me live in constant fear and misery?" His lower lip trembled with a mixture of pain and fury.

Not able to just observe anymore, Harry stood up and walked over to Draco. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he knew he had to do something. Draco sent another book flying at Harry's face, causing him to tumble backwards into the chair he just came from. Draco was on the verge of losing control.

"Just when I escape, just when I am finally free, I am sucked back again! As soon as I find a friend who's family doesn't have a history of dark magic, all Hell breaks loose! Just as I find you, my first friend, It all gets taken away from m-"

Harry didn't have time to process anything he had just said before Draco suddenly froze. Harry thought that he was about to faint until he say the same, glassed over expression that preceded his first breakdown. Draco had finally lost it. He had finally lost his control.

This time, Harry was ready. He stood up and grabbed Draco's shoulders just before he started to reach for a glass to hit himself with. He managed to kick Harry in the shins; gritting through the pain, Harry shoved Draco back into a sitting position on his bed.

"Stop! Stop! Please! Let me go! Let her go, Father stop! You're hurting her! Please-"

"Draco, stop."

"Can't you see that she is in pain? Stop!"

"Draco, I am right here. You are right here. Breath."

"Please, please!"

Harry noticed that he had stopped flailing. His eyes looked slightly less glassy, but Harry could tell he still wasn't free of himself yet. Thankfully Harry was able to grab him earlier than he did last time, which made it easier to calm Draco before he was too far gone. Harry shifted one of the hands that had been placed on his shoulders on the back of his neck. His clothes and skin were covered in cold, clammy sweat, but Harry did not care. The hand on his neck drew Draco slightly forward. Harry could feel his erratic breath covering his own.

"Shh, Draco, your mother is fine, she is safe. I am right here. Do you feel the hand on your neck? That is mine. Focus on my hand."

Draco's face flickered between his forced hatred, and something else. His knuckles turned white in the fists he had them clenched in. Both of their heartbeats were racing.

Very slowly, with the pace of a snail, Draco's hand dropped the book that was in it. The book hit the floor with a thud. The loud noise caused Draco to gasp, his hand flying to the back of Harry's neck as well. At first Harry thought that Draco was trying to hurt him, but his grasp was gentle, more to stabilize him than anything else. It brought both of their heads closer together, almost as close as they had been in the locker rooms.

"My mother, she is ok?" Draco whispered.

"She is safe. I am right here, Draco. You are safe too."

Harry truly had no idea where Draco's mother was, but for the time being, he just had to pray that she was ok.

Draco's eyes soon came back into focus. He became aware of where he was once again, how close he was, to Harry, but he didn't seem to care.

Draco slowly pulled on Harry's neck until the foreheads were resting another and they were sharing the same breath.

"What is happening to me?" Draco whispered feebly.

It was a moment before Harry answered. He knew that he was treading on very thin ice; if he said the wrong thing, he would surely slip and crack it, causing he to fall into the icy waters below.

"I don't know. But whatever it is, I will help you. If it is the last thing I do, I will make sure you are safe."

They continued to sit like that for a while. Draco closed his eyes, taking the time to slow his breath, and take in Harry's smell. Neither boy moved. Even though his break down was over, lines of worry and pain still streaked across his face, making him look years older, yet younger at the same time. No matter what he did, Harry couldn't make those lines fade away.

Draco started to whimper. The hand that was not around Harry's neck dropped to his lap, slowly curling around the material of his pants. Harry worried that he was being sucked back into his own thoughts again.

Very slowly, Harry slotted his nose with Draco's. He needed to reassure him that he wasn't going to lose control again. Whether consciously or not, Draco nuzzled Harry back.

As light as air, Harry leaned forward and brushed his lips against Draco's. The motion was so soft, it was almost as if it was never there, as if it was a ghost. A small voice was screaming in the back of his mind for him to stop, that what he was doing was wrong, but he swiftly pushed it away. He had meant what he did. Besides, he didn't think Draco could handle it if he pulled away. It would wreck him.

Draco pulled back slightly; his face contorted between pain and want. Harry did his best to keep his face neutral, but he couldn't help but feel slightly rejected.

The hand in Draco's lap balled up tightly while he squeezed his eyes shut. It pained Harry to see him struggling so much; to be that afraid.

Suddenly, his face still warped with pain, he pushed his lips back onto Harry's, as if he was fighting himself not to do so. This kiss was not like the first one; this kiss was desperate, not consoling and gentle. The kiss was full of anger and pain and the want to escape the horrible, dark place that is reality. This kiss was fueled by fire and want and freedom.

After a moment of shock, Harry kissed Draco back with the same intensity. The hand that was on the back of Draco's neck twisting into his hair, the hand on his shoulder balling up into a fist full of his shirt.

Draco placed the hand on his lap into Harry's lower back, pressing him closer. He pushed Harry into his lap so that he straddled him. His hand snaked up his back and into his hair tugging softly, causing Harry to gasp. Draco used the opening to shove his tongue into Harry's mouth. Their tongues danced together. Harry bit Draco's bottom lip, making him groan. He needed to be closer to him; he needed Harry to make him forget the letter. He needed to forget years of pain and suffering and loneliness. He pressed himself closer to Harry, afraid that he would never be close enough.

Harry broke the kiss to travel down Draco's jaw. Draco let out a low moan, getting lost in the sensation of Harry's mouth kissing its way down his body. Draco's hands found the clasp to Harry's robes; he quickly shoved them off of him, leaving Harry in a gray cotton tee-shirt and pants.

Harry found Draco's pulse point on his neck and started to suck. His teeth grazed over the spot gently before he bit down hard, making Draco gasp and tilt his head to give Harry better access.

Draco's hands slid under the hem of Harry's shirt; he dragged his nails up his sides, causing Harry to groan, and arch into his hands. Harry grabbed at Draco's arm to steady himself.

A cold crash of reality washed over Draco. Harry's hands were not big enough for The Dark Mark on his arm to be fully covered.

Gasping, Draco shoved Harry off of him, and back into his chair. Draco, once again moved back on his bed until his back was pushed against the wall.

Harry looked disheveled. His naturally untidy hair was sticking out at odd angles in the places that Draco had grabbed it. His gray shirt was pushed up his torso where Draco's arms had been. Both boys were breathing heavily, the remains of lust lingering in the air.

"Damn it. Damn it." Draco hissed more to himself than to Harry. "Harry, you have to go."

Surprise fought its way onto Harry's face. In confusion, he start to speak,

"But-"

"Don't you get it?" Draco's building anger broke temporarily on the last word. 'Everyone who gets close to me gets screwed over. Everyone who gets close to me gets hurt. Now I have my father to deal with, and I shouldn't have even dragged you into that." Draco was talking very frantically now.

"But Draco, I told you I would help. I told you-"

Draco took in a very long breath and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, they were hard and cold. Any trace of what had just happened was erased from his face. His posture was stiff, his stare unwavering.

"It's Malfoy, Potter," Draco spat. "Don't you get it? You can't help me. I don't want you, or your help. Your desperate attempt to be the hero is over. Now for the last time, Potter. Get out of my room."

It was Harry's turn to have hurt etched across his face. He felt as if he had emerged from underwater. He felt that reality had just torn him apart, and now he was bleeding on the floor. Harry stood up and stumbled. Under normal circumstances, Draco might have rushed to help him, but this Draco, no, this Malfoy stared at him with a sneer. A sneer that covered all of the broken and raw emotions he trapped inside him.

Once he regained his balance, he walked out of the room into the brightly lit corridor. The torches and light seemed so out of place in such a dark and miserable place.

Silently, Harry walked slowly towards the staircase. He legs felt weighted with iron, preventing him from moving. On the forth step, Harry tripped and fell, landing nose first on the hard marble staircase. He knew it was broken; he felt blood slowly start to trickle down his face.

Angrily, he stood up, determined to carry himself to his room. He lifted his leg to take on the next step, but he quickly lost his balance, and had to lean on the wall for support.

As abrupt as water breaking through a damn, Harry slid down the wall, tears flooding his eyes. He made no attempt to shield himself from passerbys. He lied sprawled across the staircase, his tears mixing with his own blood. And, for the first time in a long time, Harry cried. It was unrestrained, uncontrolled, and wild. And for the first time, Harry didn't have any friends to come and console him.

Hey guys! I am super excited about this chapter. I worked hard on it, so all feedback would be greatly appreciated. (Also, this is the first romantic scene I have written, so any comments would be greatly valued.) I love your guys' input in the story, and I love to hear constructive criticism, but if you are going to give me some, please tell me in a respectful way. I will be far more receptive if you criticize kindly. :)