When I see you

In a moment, everything around us falls away

And all I see is you

And I feel you right beside me

Everything familiar now feels new whenever I'm with you

This is love

-Alan Lett

"This is utterly and completely ridiculous, Potter."

And it was ridiculous. The two boys sat in the library, staring irately at the vast amount of books that was still piled before them. It had been ten days since they had first started their research, and thus far, they had gotten absolutely nowhere.

"And you think I'm having a jolly good time over here, Malfoy? It feels like my brain is about to explode."

Luckily enough, Harry's condition had not gotten any worse...at least, not while Draco had been around. Draco had spent the greater part of the last week and a half at Grimmauld Place with Harry, though the he hadn't been particularly enthusiastic about sleeping in what he had officially deemed "an old ruin". Harry had caught Draco trying to incindeo the curtains as well as several of the bed sheets on more than one occasion.

"Why don't you do us both a favor and just let it explode. You'd be dead and cured, and I'd be the great man who made it happen."

The first couple nights Draco had stayed simply because he hadn't wanted to go back home. He had said that his father would calm down after a few days and he would be able to get out of Harry's way. But Harry hadn't minded the company.

"Keep running your mouth and it might just happen."

Draco had gone home just like he said he would, only to return the next morning to find Harry bedridden with a cold fever. As soon as Draco had left him the night before, everything crashed in on him all at once; his distress about abandoning Ron and Hermione, his guilt about not telling them about the spell, and the staggering realization about the lines he had crossed with a certain blonde. The intensity of the emotions had threatened to drown him in a sea of icy anguish.

"Are you implying that I talk too much?"

Harry had felt Draco enter the house. He had felt his every step up the stairs, and when he had entered the room it had been like taking a breath and realizing that there had been no air before. Draco had stayed with him the entire day, until his fever was down, until the pain was gone—until he was inhaling nothing but the deep luscious air that was Draco.

"Not exactly. I'm saying that your voice happens to be very, very annoying…and that you talk too much."

Draco hadn't left his side since.

"I can't believe you just said that! Take it back you foul beast!"

But this spell had taken its own kind of toll on Draco. Harry noticed that Draco had be eating and sleeping exponentially less and less. There was a certain sallow color in the tone of his skin, and the shadows under his bloodshot eyes seemed to pull darkness into his face. Harry had seen the anguish reflected in his dreams. They only came to Harry now in broken fragments—bursts of pain and blood splattered across cold stone. Harry only wished he knew why these dreams kept plaguing him. He kept meaning to ask Draco about them, but he hadn't been able to gather up the courage yet. As if they needed something else to pry them apart…

"Hey, Gryffindors don't lie."

Draco scowled, and flipped to a dog-tagged page in his massively thick book. "Here." He nudged the book towards Harry. "I found you a spell."

Harry leaned over, trying to pay more attention to the heading at the top of the page than the way Draco's breath felt against the small of his neck. "The Dementor's Peck?"

"I think they were trying to be ironic." Draco gave an amused smirk. "But come on think about it. So far the only definitive cure we have found for the spell is death, right? I mean it's saying something that we even found that much. Most books just say the spell is a myth."

Harry nodded hesitantly.

"Well!" Draco pointed down at the book with a little too much enthusiasm. "This book says that this spell can simulate a Dementor's Kiss. It's a spell that retrieves the soul from the body. And if a body has no soul, then it's technically dead isn't it?"

Harry paled. "Er—well yeah I suppose…but is there a section saying how to bring me back to life?"

Draco lips quirked. He glanced down at the page, and then back up at Harry. "Well, no, it doesn't have—you know—specific instructions on how to put the soul back into the body."

"Does it even say if it can be done?"

"Well…no, but come on it can't really be that hard!"

"Malfoy!" Harry fumed. "This is my life we're talking about here!"

"I'm sure the soul goes right back in where it came from." Draco flashed him a persuasive grin. "Take it out, put it back in—you'll be cured before tea time!"

"Draco," Harry warned.

Draco batted his eyelashes and gave him a look that reminded Harry far too distinctly of a Veela. "We can throw a party afterwards—maybe invite the Dementors and thank them for their life-saving evolutionary surge. I'm sure they've never been thanked for something like that before. Come to think of it, they may never have been thanked at all. Maybe they'll enjoy it so much that they'll make it into a species-wide holiday!"

"You're making my headache worse."

"I think I would call the holiday: The Ubiquitous Praise of the Death and Resurrection of Harry Potter Day."

"Malfoy this is serious! Can't you stop being an arrogant smartass Slytherin for just one second?" Harry flared, perhaps a bit too meanly. He saw Draco stiffen. There was a long moment of silence, during which Harry felt himself redden in frustration at his short temper.

"So we're not doing the spell then?" Draco asked coolly.

"No."

"Fine." Draco unfolded the page corner and slammed the book shut. He didn't grab for another.

Harry tried to ignore him, not wanting to encourage another one of Draco's petulant tantrums, but as he stared down at his book he couldn't help but feel a ridiculous amount of guilt for what he had said. Harry gave a heavy sigh. "Look, Malfoy, I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm just—I don't know—frustrated we haven't found anything is all."

"I can't believe you called me an arrogant smartass." Draco stared sulkily down at the table.

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't even clever."

Harry shook his head, trying not to smile. "I know."

"I mean, you're the one who's always a smartass. Not me."

Harry suppressed a chuckle. "Malfoy, come on, you have to admit that you're a bit…challenging sometimes."

"Am not!" Draco returned, sending Harry a sidelong incredulous look. "I'm just cursed with a great sense of humor, that a person with your bounded brain capacity obviously can't comprehend."

Harry didn't hold back his mirthful laugh this time. "Hey, Malfoy?"

"What? And if you're even thinking about spitting another one of your stupid Gryffindor comebacks at me I swear I'll—"

"Do you wanna get out of here?"

Draco faltered. He turned to Harry full on, "Excuse me?"

"I asked if you want to get out of here."

Draco's chin gave a sharp jerk. "No, I heard what you said. I want to know what the hell you meant by it."

Harry's eyes widened in realization. "Oh! No! I didn't mean just you! I meant you and me, together."

Draco's pale brows furrowed, but he remained silent, which at least meant he was willing to listen.

Harry closed his book, casting the other boy a cautious smile. "Look, we've been coming to this library every day for the past week and a half. I mean, I think I've read more books here with you than I did in my entire six years at Hogwarts."

"Which isn't really saying much I'd wager."

"Malfoy."

"Right, being serious. Continue."

"I just think we should take a day to relax." Harry's bottom lip curled under his teeth. "You know, go get some coffee, or have a meal that isn't pasta. Or, we could just walk around in a park or something. I really don't care as long as there aren't books involved."

Draco took an overly long time to respond. "So you want us to go out on a date?"

Harry blinked. "Huh?"

"What you're describing," Draco gestured with his hand, "sounds an awful lot like a date."

Harry shook his head vigorously, "What? No nononono—a date? Of course it's not a date! Guys can go out and do things together without it being a date."

"So it's normal for you and your male friends to go to a quaint little café for a coffee and enjoy a pleasant stroll through the park afterwards?"

Harry's tongue darted over his dry lips. "Well…um…no I guess Ron and I never really did those types of things, but…" His lips twitched nervously, and for some reason his heart was pounding so fiercely he could feel his chest move with its beat. "Well, fine, we can go to a bar or something."

"No," Draco said with a soft smile that sent pleasant chills down Harry's spine. "I like coffee. And I like parks too."

Harry stilled. "Um—alright, well…then uh—"

"Don't get too excited, Potter." Draco smirked and rose to his feet. "I never put out on a first date. I'm a prude like that." Draco turned and sauntered off towards the exit with a pronounced bounce in his step, leaving Harry to stare after him, gaping.

(Later that evening…)

"Malfoy!" Harry called, unable to hide the stilted laughter in his voice. "I said I was sorry!"

"I don't care, Potter!" Draco was storming down the streets of London yelling at the top of his lungs, while Harry was trying his best to follow. A lot of people were beginning to stare. "And you can't really be all that sorry seeing as you're back there laughing your arse off!"

Harry grabbed for Draco's arm and missed. "Malfoy! Come on, you're being ridiculous!"

"I'm not!" Draco whirled on him, and by now people were stopping in their tracks. The situation would've reminded Harry of that day in Diagon Alley save for the fact that this time, neither boy seemed to notice blatant stares they were receiving. "Look!" Draco gestured. "You've ruined my shirt!"

Harry glanced down at the deep-green collared shirt, noticing how, in the light, a few dark droplets of coffee could in fact be seen. Harry grimaced. "I hardly think that counts as ruining your shirt, Malfoy."

"It does so!" Draco turned and began to walk again. "And you did it on purpose! This is sabotage!"

"I did not do it on purpose!"

"Yes you did!"

"You were trying to steal my coffee!" Harry rebutted.

"I asked for it first!"

Harry scoffed, "And I quote 'Potter, you four-eyed Gryffindor dunder-head, I'm out of coffee. Give me yours or I will end you.' End quote."

"See!" Draco turned sharply, very nearly knocking an elderly man into a street pole.

"See what?"

"I asked!"

"Telling me to give you my coffee is not asking!"

Draco waved him off, blowing a stray bit of hair from his eyes. "Nuance."

"Well what's your excuse for then trying to steal if from me?"

"You were being obstinate."

"I was trying to drink my coffee! Why didn't you just go get yourself another?"

"I couldn't just go and get another coffee Potter, you twit. I have to have it brought to me, like every other properly spoiled child does."

"Well then you could have asked me to get you some more," Harry said, exasperated yet still smiling.

"That would have taken too long."

"Oh, and I suppose you always require immediate gratification?"

"When it comes to coffee yes. How else do you think I stay amiable and perky all day?"

"I hardly think you seemed amiable and perky when you threw that fit in the café."

"Which just serves to further prove my point! My amiable perkiness was ruined because you wouldn't give me your coffee! And on top of that you had to massacre my shirt and throw a bagel at me!"

"Merlin, don't bring that damn bagel into this!" Harry whined.

"You threw a piece of stale crusted bread at my face!"

"It was in self defense! You practically leapt across the table to get my cup!"

"And this somehow warrants bagel throwing? What about those poor starving children in China, Potter? Hm? Do you see them throwing bagels around? I think not!"

"Malfoy?"

Draco whirled to face him once more, his face bright with feeling. "What, Potter?"

Harry grinned. "You're sort of adorable when you're angry. Has anyone ever told you that before?"

Draco's eyes widened ever so slightly, and his cheeks flamed a hot pink that drowned out the previous gray tone of his skin. His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally spoke. "You're buying me a new shirt, Potter—you damn ponce."

Draco turned and stormed off once more, and Harry followed smiling from ear to ear. The people on the street shared questioning glances before finally shrugging the boys off and heading on their way, the magical few thinking that they must be mistaken when they thought that the boys they had seen were Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. After all, Harry Potter—in all of his heroic masculinity and manly manliness—would never under any circumstance call another boy adorable.

Several minutes later found the two boys standing outside a clothing store with a fancy sign that read Emporio Armani fashioned in large silver letters over the entrance. Draco gave self-appreciating smirk before sauntering through the frosted glass doors. Harry entered more cautiously, and was immediately greeted by the scent of expensive fabric and freshly polished leather.

"Hello boys!" A cheerful looking girl dressed in a snappy pinstriped suit greeted. "Is there anything in particular I could help you look for?" Her bright eyes grazed across the two boys and suddenly widened with recognition, "Why! Mister Malfoy! I didn't realize it was you! Welcome back! And I see you've brought a new friend with you!" She giggled in that bubbly sort of way that only girls can giggle.

"Marcia, do try to be less annoying." Draco scoffed. "I've only brought Potter here because he's going to be buying me a new shirt." He fingered his green shirt, pointing at it with obvious disdain. "See? He ruined this one."

The girl Draco had called Marcia paused, glancing at Harry and going white. "Harry Potter, is it?"

"The shirt, Marica!" Draco berated.

Marcia bustled over to Draco's side, squinting and peering down at his shirt. A few moments of silence passed before she finally nodded. "Yes, yes I see. It is quite a stain."

Harry rolled his eyes while Draco took a moment to cast Harry a 'see I told you so' look'. "Pull out all of your newest in stock and set it out for me," he barked the order as if it was familiar to him as breathing.

Harry choked. "All of it?"

"Yes." He shooed Marcia away.

"But we're only here to get one shirt!"

Draco began to make his way to the back of the store, clearly expecting to be followed. "Well I have to make sure to get one that will look good on me. As a Malfoy, I must always look better than everyone else."

Harry trailed after him, pleading, "So that means you have to try on all the shirts they have?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco's brow arched. "I'm only trying on the all the new shirts. I already have all the ones out on display."

Harry made an exasperated noise and watched Draco disappear into a dressing room that was so large Harry could've probably lived quite comfortably in it. Draco suddenly reappeared in the doorway and favored him with a coy smile. "Maybe you'll consider this a lesson well learned—spill coffee on my shirt and suffer the financial consequences."

"I didn't—" Harry was cut off as Draco closed the heavy door. The Gryffindor proceeded to mutter a rather impressive string of curses before throwing himself onto a bench just outside the dressing room. He crossed his arms over his chest, committed to sulking for the rest of the evening. Of all the people to be cursed with being attracted to…

Marcia appeared around the corner a short while later, an impossibly large pile of clothing draped over her arms. She knocked before entering the dressing room and closed the door behind her. Silence ensued, and Harry frowned. Why in the world had she gone into the dressing room? He'd never heard of a salesperson going inside someone's dressing room before.

Harry's frown deepened as he felt something akin to jealousy churn in his stomach. This was stupid. He was overreacting. There was nothing to get flustered about. She was probably just setting out the clothes for Draco so he could make his choice more quickly.

Several minutes passed and still Marcia had not emerged.

To make matters worse, he could hear the sound of her soft giggling voice humming through the door. Harry rose to his feet and sat back down several times, chewing distractedly on the inside of his cheek. Okay, he was simply being childish now. What was going on behind that—notably locked—door was none of his business. Laughter rang from the dressing room, and Harry scowled despite himself. Harry didn't care who Draco decided to spend his time with…or snog in a dressing room.

Harry's hands fisted his jeans. He didn't care. He just had to keep telling himself that, and maybe eventually that would wind up making it true. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. Harry sighed angrily through his nose. I don't care.

More accurately, he didn't understand. Over the past week, he'd grown used to the heated feeling that came with being around Draco. The simmering of his blood no longer surprised him when their hands touched, and he'd come to expect his heart to race when their eyes met. But this…this was something entirely different. This feeling was not based off of an interaction with Draco's body—it did not feel warm or aching. Instead there was an unsettling disquiet coiling in the pit of his stomach, and a growl rising in his chest. He didn't know what it meant that he couldn't stand the thought of Draco being alone with Marcia in that dressing room.

A few minutes later, Harry's attention was pulled towards the sound of the dressing room door reopening. Marcia came out first—wearing a bright smile that made Harry's blood curdle—closely followed by Draco, who was sporting a sharply cut maroon button-down. Harry's eyes were drawn to Draco like a magnet to metal. The shirt was tapered at the waist, accentuating his long, svelte lines, and setting off his pale features like a snowbank against a black lake. Maybe Harry didn't give fashion enough credit.

"How do I look?" Draco posed and smirked flirtatiously.

Marcia chuckled under her breath, her eyes passing between the two boys, but Harry hardly noticed. His mouth had become suddenly dry, and he had to swallow several times before his tongue allowed him to speak. "You look—ah" there was no other word for it, "amazing."

Draco's smile widened genuinely. "You think so?" He turned towards the nearest mirror, studying his reflection. "I'm not so sure about the color though. I mean…it's a bit Gryffindor."

"I—I like the color." Harry replied stiffly, not liking the way his heart was pounding uncontrollably in his chest.

"I agree." Marcia interjected. "It's a good color on you."

"Very well, you've all convinced me." Draco began to unbutton the shirt. "Potter can buy this one. Marcia, you'll box up the rest and put them on my credit won't you?"

"Of course." Marcia gave a small nod before disappearing back into the dressing room.

Harry's entire body went on lockdown as he stared at the blonde. Button by button the shirt opened, revealing the smooth skin beneath. It was enough to set Harry's nerves afire. Draco however, didn't seem to notice.

Draco peeled the dark fabric from his torso and folded the shirt with a practiced delicacy. He then started forward, and Harry felt his breath quicken with each step. Draco's arms extended, offering Harry the shirt.

Time slowed as their eyes met, and confusion flickered in Draco's grey depths. "It's just a shirt, Potter. It won't bite."

The air around Harry smelled of soap and expensive cologne, and it lulled his mind into a fuzzy a haze. He remembered with an acute vividness how that skin felt beneath his hands. He remembered the way that chest arched beneath his touch and the way the muscles would tighten with each breath. He remembered—

"Potter?"

Harry snapped to attention. "Huh? What?"

"Are you alright?"

"Oh. Yeah." Harry took the shirt and nodded a bit too enthusiastically. And with a wave of utter embarrassment, he tucked tail and fled.

He reached the checkout counter short of breath and covered in a thin film of sweat. He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. Get a hold of yourself! he berated. Merlin, I can't believe I was just staring at him like that!

Marcia appeared shortly after, a strange sort of smile plastered on her face. She took the shirt from Harry and smoothed it out. Harry blushed. He hadn't realized he had crumpled the shirt in his retreat. Damn Draco for doing this to him.

"I think Mister Malfoy likes you very much." Marcia said, doing a good job of looking preoccupied with wrapping the shirt in gold tissue paper.

Harry felt his jaw tense. "Oh?" What kind of a comment was that?

"He's one of the most available bachelors in England, did you know?" She raised her head only to give him a girlish grin. "I read it in a magazine somewhere. But I suppose that was quite a while ago now." She paused and sighed dramatically. "Imagine how disappointed all of his admirers will be."

"Excuse me?"

"When they find out that he's dating someone."

Harry blanched. "Huh?" It sounded more like a squeak than an actual word.

"No need to be shy about it, hun." Marcia laughed. "I mean, it's horribly obvious."

"Hey! What? No!" Harry waved his hands. "You've got it all wrong! I'm not—I mean—we're not—and I would never…"

Marcia raised a dark brow. "Really?"

"Yes!—I mean no!" Harry yelped.

She gave a halfhearted shrug, "Okay. Your total will be $283.76."

With nervous, shaking hands, Harry wrote the woman a check. His fingers could barely grip the pen he was so flustered. She took the check with an ear-to-ear grin. "You know, you can't blame me for thinking it. I mean, not many straight boys go shopping together, much less tell each other they look amazing in a shirt."

Harry didn't know how much embarrassment one person could take in a day, but he had a feeling he was reaching his limit. "Well…we're not, so…"

"I'm sure." Her eyes flickered over his shoulder.

Harry would've questioned her if he hadn't at that very moment felt an intense heat at his back. Arms slid around his waist to lean on the counter's edge, not touching, but close enough that Harry could feel the warmth of them envelope him. Then a hot breath stirred the back of his hair and Harry thought his heart might stop.

"Harry?" Draco's voice purred into his ear, each syllable sending white-hot jolts down Harry's spine. "Have you paid for my shirt yet? We're wasting an evening that we could spend doing much better things."

"Malfoy, I'm going to fucking kill you!"

But Harry's threats were lost on Draco, who was currently too busy cackling maniacally to give anything much attention. The two boys had gotten back to Grimmauld Place almost an hour ago, but Harry's temper was still flaming and Draco's amusement was far from sated.

Draco leaned against the wall of the entryway, clutching at his stomach and making absolutely no attempt to calm himself. "Oh, Potter" he chortled, "you should've seen your face!"

"I mean it, Malfoy! I don't need a wand! I can do it with my bare hands if I like!"

"And then—and then" Draco was almost beyond the point of speech, "when you tried to take the bag from Marcia—"

"Malfoy, it's not funny!" Harry slammed his fist into the wood right next to Draco's head. He gave a startled jump and immediately sobered.

"Potter," Draco said, blinking his tears of laughter away, "it was just a bit of fun. And it serves you right, spilling coffee on me like that. You're not going to force me to bring up the bagel again, are you?"

Harry leered and closed in on the other boy. "Yeah, well it may have been fun for you, but I'm the one under the spell here!"

Draco scowled, glancing between Harry's eyes and the arm that hovered just over his right shoulder. He was trapped, and he knew it. "Potter," he sneered, "it was just a bit of fun. Stop overreacting."

"Overreacting!" Harry slammed his fist once more, and the wall gave a shuddering rattle. "I've been going through hell this past week, Malfoy! And then you go and—"

"And what?" Draco straightened, refusing to be intimidated.

"You tease me! I never know what's real and what's not with you! And I don't know it with me anymore either! All the books said the bond was just supposed to be physical, but today with Marcia—"

A strange expression flashed across Draco's pale features. "What does Marcia have to with anything?"

Harry's mind gave a violent spin and he realized that he had said too much. His hand recoiled and he stumbled back, but words were beyond his control now. "I don't know…but when she went into the dressing room with you…I thought—I felt like…"

"Potter," Draco stepped towards him gingerly. "Marcia is just a salesgirl."

"I know that!" Harry turned away, unable to take the strain of looking at the other boy any longer. "But it shouldn't matter either way should it."

"What do you mean?"

Harry whirled on him. "I mean I shouldn't care if anything is going on with you and somebody else! This spell isn't supposed to make me feel things like jealousy!" Harry took a deep ragged breath. "What if this spell is more than it seems? What if it's actually making me fall i—"

"It's not," Draco inserted before Harry could finish.

"And what if it is?"

"Then we'll fix it." There was a certain desperate wildness in Draco's eyes that Harry couldn't comprehend. "We haven't even covered half the books we pulled together!"

Something about the Slytherin's words made Harry's eyes prickle. He felt suddenly very exposed, as if the air around him was baring him open. "What if we do fix it," their eyes locked as they moved together almost imperceptibly, "but this thing that I'm feeling…is still here?"

Draco teetered, his weight shifting from foot to foot as if he didn't quite remember how to stand. "I don't like talking about things that can't happen."

"But what if it did? Would you care?"

"Of course I woul—" Draco began breathlessly, but caught himself. The shadows on his face multiplied, and he made a sudden turn towards the door. "I don't know what you're trying to say, Potter."

"I'm trying to say that I think I might feel something for you!"

Draco's hand moved to the doorknob. "You're only saying these things because of the spell. You're attracted to me. That's all. Stop thinking this is something that it's not."

Harry's entire body was surging. "But what if I'm thinking it's something that it is!"

"Fine! Let's entertain that thought for just one moment!" Draco flared, turning his head back towards Harry. His eyes were blazing, and his shoulders trembled with some unknown emotion. "If you did, in fact, feel something for me, and it wasn't part of the spell, what do you think would come of it? Do you really think it would be that simple?"

"What are you talking about?"

"We have both have our obligations, Potter!"

"Obligations? To whom?"

"Me to my family! You to the entire fucking wizarding world! I'm expected to get married and produce an heir! And you! You're Harry bloody Potter! The entire world looks to you! What do you think they would say about us? Two men? You with an ex Death Eater!" Draco's brow grew tight, his lips stretching into a thin line. "You're supposed to be with Ginny! That's the way it's supposed to be!"

Harry's throat felt tight and painfully choked. Hope fell from his chest like a weight, leaving nothing but black, hollow space. But then he realized something—Draco, in all of his excuses, had never once directly answered Harry's question.

"This is why I don't believe in love, Potter." Draco was facing the door again. "It messes everything up. Now let's drop it before we make even bigger fools of ourselves."

Draco threw opened the door, and his foot lifted to step through the doorway. "No!" Harry swung his arm forward and the door slammed shut with such force that the edges of the wood splintered.

Draco spun, wide eyed. "Potter?"

"I won't just drop it! I want you to give me a straight answer!" The lights began to flicker dangerously—dimming and then bursting with light.

"Potter?"

"I want to know that everything I'm feeling isn't all just a lie! I'm so confused I hardly know what to do with myself, and I can't help but think that—"

"Harry!"

"What!?"

Draco smiled. "Congratulations. I think you just got your magic back."