Chapter 13: Recovery Comforts

When foxlet gliders choose a mate, their choice is often founded upon an empathetic link. As such, those that demonstrate juvenile companionability, with said bonds or pre-established 'friendships' are significantly more likely to become a mated pair. The courtship ritual is often tentative, long and arduous and involving as much playful taunting as sincerity, but is distinct from merely friendly behaviour in the near constant companionability of the pair.

Quite notably, the effects of a courting foxlet have been demonstrated to have an effect upon the bond-parents of the individual, and vice versa. When such courtship from either party is undertaken, the inclination of the other end of the bond towards receiving the affections of others is distinctly more receptive. Frequent occasions have found that bond-parents will often develop deep and long-lasting relationships during the courtship sequence of a foxlet glider, whether to one another or to a third party. At times, when a foxlet is particularly partial towards the potential partner of their bond-parent, affection is heightened even further. It should be emphasised, however, as demonstrated by foxlet glider expert Jofferson in her 1945 study, that the feelings of a bond-parent for their partner, if influenced by the foxlet's behaviour, is not a compulsion or in any way reminiscent to a love potion or spell. Jofferson highlights from personal experience that such feelings are simply more distinctly noticeable beneath empathetic urging.

Harry exited the Forbidden Forest in a daze. He'd been dazed as such for quite some time now, when his fear and rising concern for Pipsqueak had overridden any sense of logic within him. Weariness weighed heavily upon his shoulders and he was eternally grateful for the fact that Draco seemed as disinclined to release his hold around Harry's shoulders as Harry was to drop his arm from Draco's waist.

His mind was abuzz with a mixture of emotions, from confusion to frustration to pain and exhaustion, and not the least of which being the fizzling aftermath of panic. His flight through the forest had been driven by that panic as much as it had deliberate intent. Pipsqueak had been terrified, mindlessly so, and unless Harry wanted to knock her down with a spell she would remain so until she had worn herself down.

Harry could never knock her down.

She'd sped through the forest with such speed that Harry had barely been able to keep up, bounding through the darkness and leaping through the trees. Minutes into her flight she'd even attempted to scramble desperately up one such tree in search of sanctuary and Harry, hating himself even as he did it, had to tug her down with a vicious jerk or risk having himself dragged off his feet after her. Pipsqueak was strong even when not driven by her fear and he had no doubt she would be capable of doing so. Even so, Harry still felt sick at the memory of her crashing to the ground in a roiling heap each time he'd jerked her from a tree trunk.

That self-loathing had persisted even when his exhaustion grew to challenge it. They must have backtracked at several instances, Harry was sure, for there couldn't possibly be so much forest for them to keep ploughing through without erupting from the other side. That exhaustion had begun to drag heavily upon Harry's limbs, was put to the test when Pipsqueak seemed to slow in her own weariness only to spring back into racing speed when some trigger urged her onwards. One such instance they'd stumbled upon a team of unicorns who, startled by Pipsqueaks sudden, yipping arrival, had burst into a stampede of their own. Even harmless, innately good and pure as they were, Pipsqueak's own terror had redoubled her crazed flight once more.

Harry was nearly collapsing by the time Pipsqueak begun to slow. He didn't think he could keep running, not at such a pace, and had just about resigned himself to being dragged along the forest floor behind her when he did the only thing he could. With a cry barely audible through his pants, he'd called out to her. "Pips, please stop."

Whether it was his tone or the empathy that Pipsqueak had picked up on, something caused the foxlet to stumble to a momentary halt. Harry had been stunned for a moment, rendered speechless that it had actually worked. Then he'd shaken himself from his stupor and staggered towards where she stood, legs splayed, head bowed and sides heaving like an overworked horse. Harry slumped to his knees at her side and, without another word, had reached forwards and dragged the foxlet into his lap, into his arms.

Surprisingly, Pipsqueak hadn't resisted. On the contrary, at his contact she had curled herself into him, her claws reaching over his shoulders and flexing painfully to dig through Harry's shirt and into his skin. Harry hadn't cared. He'd clung onto her for dear life, relief rising to gradually replace the terror, the anguish, even stemming the exhaustion slightly. Just slightly. The rapid-fire thud-thud-thud of Pipsqueaks heart pounding against Harry's chest was oddly reassuring.

That was how Draco found them. Found them and, before Harry had even realised he was there, engulfed them both in an embrace. The soothing calm, the relief, the ease that he afforded Harry simply with his presence, his contact. It was comforting in a similar and yet entirely different way to Pipsqueak's clinging hold.

Then he'd kissed him. And Harry had kissed him right back. All of it… Harry hadn't even realised he'd been looking for the missing puzzle pieces but everything sort of just clicked into place with that.

Since then, since he and Draco had struggled to their feet to make their way in a staggering wander back in the direction of the school under the direction of Draco's Point Me Charm, Harry's daze had become only more pronounced. He was glad for the support Draco offered him, the physical as much as the mental. He doubted he would have been able to make the effort to rise from the ground and start back towards Hogwarts at all if not for Draco's urging.

He still carried Pipsqueak. It was awkward for her size but she wasn't heavy, not with the Lightening Charm that they had put upon her. Or more correctly the charm that Draco had put on her, because Harry hadn't been able to untangle the foxlet from him enough to extract his own wand. She clung to Harry like a vine, claws still digging in to his shoulders and head bowed and pressed to his shoulder. Every so often she'd murmur a barely audible, wavering "yip" but otherwise she was silent.

It was a long, stumbling trip back to the school. Night had fallen by the time they made it back, but the grounds weren't entirely empty empty. The night appeared to be illuminated by a Lumos Maxima from at least two wands. Of students, yes, it was mostly absented, but there were at least three professors waiting on the tree line and Harry wouldn't have been surprised if there had been more embedded in the Forest depths.

At the sight of Harry and Draco, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Lavender, the only students in attendance, sped towards them. They were nearly falling over themselves with their haste, and Harry only caught a glimpse of Slughorn, Sprout and Madam Hooch before Ginny collided into him. Only briefly, however, before she drew away with a gasped apology, for which Harry was grateful for the simple reason that it was incredibly uncomfortable to be wrapped in both Pipsqueak and Draco – who still hadn't let go of him for a second – with Ginny's crushing embrace on top of that.

"Oh Merlin, are you alright? No, of course you're not alright, you look terrible, but are you hurt? Did you get hurt? Are you alright?"

Ginny's gushing overrode any attempts that Harry might have but didn't make. Only for her to be interrupted when Ron shunted her out of the way to ask his own round of nearly identical question, then Hermione who wrapped Harry in another awkward hug. Until Sprout arrived and urged them out of the way, that was.

"Alright, you lot, move, move, out of the way." Her usually homely countenance was swept aside in a tide of practicality as she took in Harry and Draco with a keen eye. She frowned slightly, running her gaze over them both with a practiced eye that would have made Madam Pomfrey proud. Her hands settling upon her stout hips, she nodded her head sharply. "Off to the hospital wing with the both of you, I should think."

Harry was shaking his head almost before she'd spoken, anticipating her words. "We're fine, professor. Really, nothing's wrong –"

"Even so, Potter, better to be safe than sorry. You look about dead on your feet, the both of you." Sprout's frown deepened, brooking no argument, which Harry obligingly offered no further. He simply couldn't bring himself to bother. Instead, he remained silent as Sprout turned and called over her shoulder towards Slughorn and Hooch. "Horace, Rolanda, we'll send out those Retrieval Charms to Rubeus, Minerva and Hestia now." Then she turned towards Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Lavender. "You four should be getting back inside the castle now, I should think. If you would," she tilted her head towards Harry and Draco in unspoken instruction.

Hermione was the one who replied with a sharp nod of her head. "Yes, professor. We'll make sure they make it to the hospital wing."

"See that you do, Miss Granger," Sprout nodded once more with sharp approval before making her way back towards Slughorn and Hooch, raising her wand and already shooting aloft orange sparks just as her fellow teachers were. Short, sharp and succinct she was, with no need for delay. It was typical of Sprout; she'd ascertained that no drastic injuries required her attention and had responded accordingly.

Hermione made good her word. Without pause, she stepped up to Harry's other side, wrapping her arm around his back and across Draco's comfortingly as though he truly were a careworn patient, and urged them back towards the school. Harry and Draco allowed her to lead them without a word.

What followed was a flurry of activity, of Pomfrey's bustle, her request that they remain in the Hospital Wing 'just in case' and both Harry's and Draco's resolute denial to the suggestion. They'd won that battle at least, if only because Draco had, even in his exhausted state, turned his Pompous Arse switch on and declared he was leaving and Pomfrey couldn't stop him unless she wanted to have a duel, and did she really want to duel with a patient? Pomfrey had frowned, seething, but had finally obliged, folding beneath Draco's demand as few people could resist doing.

They retreated back to eighth year tower, Harry still clutching Pipsqueak to his chest and Draco falling back into step at his side so they exchanged arms in mutual holds. Pipsqueak's claws hadn't released their grip any but Harry thought that perhaps, if only briefly, she might have drifted to sleep a couple of times, though from growing ease or sheer exhaustion he wasn't sure. When they stepped through the door into the common room, it was to find most of eighth year still awake and waiting and the couch that Harry always stole for himself vacated for them. Harry offered a wearily grateful smile to the room at large before falling onto the cushions with Draco slumping into his seat at his side.

Silence throbbing through the room. Silence and staring, but Harry hardly cared. The trip to the Hospital Wing had just been one push too far and he doubted he would have even made it up the stairs to the dormitories, regardless of how likely it would have been for him to fall to sleep. Draco didn't appear any more inclined to move than he was.

Finally, the room began to flow into motion once more around them. Harry suspected most of his year mates had questions, wanted to know what had happened for no other reason that to simply know. Blessedly they held their tongues and slowly, gradually, turned back to whatever they had been doing: a quietly voiced conversation, transferring notes from textbook to parchment, quizzing one another or simply reading in silence. Harry could see Blaise still watching them from across the room but he seemed to realise that in this case his animated intrusiveness wouldn't be carelessly laughed of as 'typically Blaise'. He retained his seat and finally turned back to his own textbook.

Hermione, Ron and Lavender were the only ones who remained alongside them, with Ginny, under Hermione's unrelenting encouragement, taking herself back to Gryffindor tower. Ginny did so not without grumbles of discontent but easily enough in the end. Hermione herself took a seat on the only other cushion on Harry and Draco's couch, while Ron perched on the armrest and Lavender folded herself to the floor before them. Each regarded Harry and Pipsqueak and even Draco with expressions of tentative concern.

Harry hardly noticed. He was tired, he wanted to sleep, just wanted the day to be over. There were things he needed to think about, about Pipsqueak and how to soothe her should such a situation arise again, of how much he would have to monitor situations in the future to avoid distressing her, of how he should go about further calming her enough that she would, maybe someday, actually feel inclined to release her hold upon his t-shirt. That and… other things. Other Draco-related things. About how they had kissed and, far from being deterred, Harry had felt simply right, even if it had been surprising.

But not now. Not tonight. Tonight, he just wanted to sleep, and all the better if Draco was at his side in his simple, soothing presence. Was it because of Pipsqueak's empathy that it felt so? Harry didn't know. He didn't really care in that moment. It just felt… right.

Unfortunately, even as he slumped back into his seat, adjusting Pipsqueak upon him so that she was no longer slipping off in an awkwardly clinging slide, Hermione took breath to speak. "Harry, I –"

"Honestly, Hermione, not tonight," Draco interrupted her with a sigh. His tone was not unkind, the use of her name indication of his intentions for an absence of cruelty if nothing else, but his words were quelling nonetheless.

Or at least they should have been. Hermione bit her lip for a moment, glanced at Lavender as if for support, before shuffling forwards in her seat slightly and reaching out tentatively towards Harry. Harry barely acknowledged her touch. He was already fighting a losing battle with his drooping eyelids. "I just feel like I have to say…"

"Hermione," Ron said, and surprisingly it sounded almost as though he were agreeing with Draco in sentiment. That Hermione should just let it go.

Hermione ignored him to. "I just have to say I'm sorry."

Harry, blinking rapidly in an attempt to stave off sleep, frowned slightly as he turned towards his friend. Maybe his mind was too addled by weariness to comprehend her words properly. "What?"

Hermione's lip quivered where it was caught between her teeth. "I'm sorry. That this happened. Because of Kitsune. I –"

"Hermione, it's hardly your fault," Draco interrupted her once more with a sigh. Again his tone was absent of cruelty, but he had slumped back upon the couch, head tipping backwards and hand rising to his wrinkled brow. "You can't take credit for something your foxlet did when she was Berserk."

"I – I know," Hermione nodded, but the worried glance she shared with Lavender bespoke her continued agitation. "I just –"

"Hermione, really, it's okay," Harry muttered. He sunk further again back into his seat, drawing Pipsqueak into him further and resting his chin atop her head. "It really wasn't your fault. Honestly it's… it's all fine now."

"But I feel like I – that we should take at least some responsibility," Hermione persisted, gesturing towards herself and Lavender who nodded fervently in agreement. "I mean, it was –"

"It wasn't your fault," Harry repeated, closing his eyes. "It wasn't. It wasn't even really Kitsune's fault. It just happened."

"But –"

"Look, Hermione, I don't mean to sound like a git, but I'm really buggered right now so if we could just maybe…"

"Finish this conversation tomorrow," Draco finished for him. From Harry's brief glance towards him, he saw that he hadn't moved an inch from his own slump against the back of the couch, head resting backwards and his fingers massaging his forehead.

Hermione still looked on the verge of persisting but her bite into her lip seemed finally able to silence her. Or mostly, anyway, for she was unable to stop herself from adding a final, "Maybe you should head up to bed?"

Harry was already closing his eyes once more. He simply couldn't be bothered to attempt to fight it out with his friend, or argue it out, more correctly, and so only nodded in half-hearted agreement. "Yeah, maybe. In a little bit. Just…"

For once, Hermione didn't call him out on his bluff. Harry didn't even open his eyes once more to check if she was in any way deceived. He didn't need to. Instead, he settled with his chin resting comfortably upon Pipsqueak's head, leaning just slightly towards Draco's side, and already felt himself drift towards sleep.

He felt the slight jostle of couches as Hermione rose to leave. He heard Ron's murmur as he to rose, and Lavender's shuffle to stand. Not much after that, however, and even the murmured conversations around the room faded away.

Harry never made it up to bed.

When he woke again it was early. He knew it was early because for one, the fire was more purple than it was orange, and two, the feeble light straining to creep around the edge of the thick, mauve curtains was barely visible at all.

Harry didn't move for a time. He simple slumped in the couch in exactly the same position he'd been in when he'd awoken and blinked at the shadows cast by the fire playing across the room. The empty room, with everyone else having retired to their beds, which they very well should have if it was as early as Harry suspected. He felt remarkably well-rested, as he'd found he was want to do when he slept alongside Pipsqueak and Draco. Not even the shadow of a nightmare clouded his mind. It almost made him sigh in relief.

Pipsqueak had finally released her claws from their death grip. She'd pooled down in his lap, or almost off of his lap, more correctly, sleeping more limply than he'd ever seen her and half slumped onto the couch on the side opposite that of Draco. She was curled like a fox, in an almost perfect circle with tails fluffed and draped half across her face. Harry could just make out the occasional twitch from her closed eyes but she looked utterly relaxed. That in turn served to relax Harry further. His greatest worry of the previous night had been that Pipsqueak would suffer from persistent distress after her bout of terror. The ease of her sleep, however, the fact that she was sleeping at all, alleviated a whole heap of Harry's concerns. He reached a gentle hand out towards her to stroke the soft fluff between her ears. She didn't even twitch in her sleep.

At his other side, Draco too appeared to be deeply asleep. Asleep and, in just about every way, acting as Harry's combined pillow and space heater. Harry hadn't even realised until he turned towards him that he was as squished into Draco's side as Pipsqueak was into his, head lolling on his shoulder and arm looped through Draco's as though clinging to what little warmth it could provide. Not that it was cold in the common room but a weariness could never complain for too much warmth.

Harry slowly turned his gaze up towards Draco, studying him in his sleep as he had done countless times before but with entirely different eyes this time. Draco appeared to have moved not an inch since the previous night, his head settled upon the back of the couch and otherwise untwisted in any other way. His brow had smoothed of its creases, face softened in that way it did only when he slept. Harry stared upon him, eyes tracing over thin brows, the straight line of his nose, the slight parting of his lips, and he listened to his equally faint breathing. And he thought.

Draco had kissed him. Yesterday, in the Forbidden Forest, he had kissed him. It was likely driven by worry, Harry knew, for he would have been just as worried had Draco disappeared into the Forest with Pipsqueak, even so. It was still a kiss. When he'd drawn away, though he'd apologised for his actions, when Harry had leant forwards to kiss him in return he had responded with something that was far different to an apology.

Harry wasn't entirely sure what it meant. Or more correctly, he knew what it meant but didn't quite understand the depth of that meaning. Draco had kissed him so did that mean he fancied him? Or had it truly just been a spur of the moment kind of thing? Harry knew they'd gotten close in a way that couldn't exactly be termed friendship but was oddly on an equal sort of plane, but fancying him? Harry wasn't sure.

At least, he wasn't sure how it was from Draco's perspective. From his own, a night of sleep seemed to have unconsciously ordered Harry's thoughts perfectly well for themselves. When he looked at Draco, as soon as he'd looked at him after awakening, he'd known: Harry definitely liked Draco, and not just as a friend either. He liked him in a different way. A bigger way.

That in itself was confusing, even if Harry did acknowledge that it truly was how he felt. He wasn't an idiot, wasn't fool enough to consider a relationship between two boys as a 'sin' or 'wrong' as most Muggles did in their world. That wasn't what was confusing. Besides, he'd seen Seamus and Dean together since the end of sixth year enough to overcome any lingering negative considerations in that regard. Muggles were sort of idiots for thinking that way. Or perhaps more correctly, many of them were blissfully and assertively ignorant.

With Draco, Harry would admit he'd never even thought about him that way before. He'd been a rival, then effectively neutral, then a forced colleague of sorts, a fellow bond-parent and finally something else. Something different. Harry hadn't really considered that either. He hadn't felt the need to tag a label onto their relationship, for it simply was. But now…

He liked Draco. Liked him like a boy would like a girl, with the only difference being that it just so happened another boy taking the place of that girl. More the concern was what to do about it further. Harry wouldn't just leave things as they were.

He contemplated that thought as he stared up at Draco, still leaning comfortably against him with his hand resting lightly upon Pipsqueak's back. Contemplated and considered and speculated upon how the conversation he knew was waiting for him when Draco awoke would take place. It wasn't because he was certain Draco would initiate such a conversation that he considered but because Harry knew he would. He had to. He couldn't just let it lie.

Draco woke up early. Or at least early by eighth year student standards. The purple of the fire had faded to its violet-orange glow, the feeble light creeping through the window paling several shades when he shifted slightly. Harry watched as the smoothness of his brow crinkled in a morning frown and, already expecting it, released Draco's arm as he stretched in what he'd come to recognise as a morning routine of sorts. A stretch overhead, a yawn, a frown, and then he blinked his eyes open. His gaze immediately drew towards Harry.

They stared at one another for a moment. Just stared, silent and thoughtful, and it wasn't as awkward as Harry had suspected it might have been. Or at least it wasn't as awkward for him as he'd expected. He still shifted slightly in his seat as the minutes stretched on, fingers still stroking Pipsqueak in a gentle caress.

Draco spoke first which was no surprise given how much he liked the sound of his own voice. His voice was solemn, however, even as the words themselves were more of a pleasantry. "How are you feeling?"

Harry shrugged a shoulder, the gesture catching Draco's eye for a moment before he settled his gaze back upon Harry's. "I'm fine. Good. Pipsqueak's… I think she's fine too." He glanced down towards the foxlet who, even as he watched, shifted slightly in her sleep, an indication that she was crawling her own way up from deep unconsciousness and into wakefulness. "I think she'll be alright."

Draco nodded slowly, relief touching his face and closing his eyes briefly. "That's good, then."

They were silent for another moment before Harry took up the baton. "How about you?"

"What?"

"Are you alright?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Would I have reason not be?"

Harry pursed his lips. "Other than the fact that you looked utterly exhausted last night? Maybe not."

"I'd wager I didn't look as bad as you did," Draco countered with a faint smile. Just like that, so easily they drifted back towards the comfortable banter that they always exchanged.

Except that this time Harry halted it in its tracks before the exchange could exacerbate. "Draco, I think we should talk about it."

His words could have referred to anything. It could have been about Pipsqueak, which would have made sense and they likely should have spoken about first, or about how they would approach avoiding such situations in the future. It could have been to discuss what had actually happened which, as far as Harry knew, Draco wasn't aware as of yet of the finer details of the situation, no more than what Pomfrey had extracted from him the previous night. It could have been about a whole range of things, but Harry saw in Draco's eyes that he knew to what he referred.

Draco's face tightened slightly before he schooled his expression. It became guarded, forcibly detached. Apprehensive, even. He took a long, slow breath. "Of course we should. As I should apologise. Again. It was presumptuous of me to impress myself upon you like that, especially in such a situation."

Harry stared at him for a moment, making sense of the littler meanings embedded in Draco's words. He was sorry. Sorry but not retracting of his actions. 'Presumptuous', he'd said, that he should 'impress' himself upon Harry, whatever the hell that meant. But he didn't claim it had been a mistake. Not in words or tone.

Harry held onto that interpretation when he replied. "Are you sorry for it? I mean, actually sorry?" At Draco's quirked eyebrow, he rephrased. "Do you regret it that we kissed? Do you wish we didn't?"

Though he opened his mouth to reply immediately, Draco paused. He paused and seemed to deeply consider, for once without the faintest touch of condescension, superiority, or sarcasm in his expression. When he spoke, even hard and slow as it was, Harry detected another echo of apology in his words. "I… do not. I don't regret it. It wasn't exactly a, ah… spur of the moment decision."

Harry stared. He blinked and stared some as Draco's words unfolded themselves and made sense to him. Incredulously, even, and as much because he could swear that a faint pinkness touched Draco's cheeks as anything. Draco Malfoy was blushing? For something other than pompous anger? Someone should take a picture and file it in a book of Rare Sightings. Harry stared as he turned over those words. It wasn't exactly a spur of the moment decision. Which meant that…

"Draco, do you fancy me?"

That blush, for definitely was a blush, intensified in Draco's cheeks and, in a display of petulance so reminiscent of Draco that Harry almost laughed, he folded his arms and lifted his chin. "I never said that."

"But do you?"

Another moment in which Draco appeared to struggle with himself passed, until finally he seemed to deflate. Drawing his gaze to the fire, frowned fiercely. "It's not like I can help it."

Harry couldn't stop himself. With a snort, he dissolved into laughter. Real laughter, that was likely driven as much by relief at the situation, a situation that had blessedly turned out for the best, as it was amusement at Draco's expense. It was insuppressible, even when Draco turned a glare upon him. "Hilarious, Potter."

"I'm sorry, I'm just –"

"You are not sorry in the slightest."

"No, really, I'm –"

"Highly amusing," Draco overrode him again, turning his body more fully away from Harry in nothing if not an objectionable stance. "Get it out of your system then and we can approach this conversation like adults."

Once more Harry couldn't help himself. Draco's words only made him laugh all the harder, much to Draco's evident vexation. So Harry did the only thing that he could do. Tugging on Draco's shoulder, he struggled to draw him around to face him properly. "Draco –"

"I don't have to put up with that from you, Harry," he said with a scowl.

"No, Draco –"

"I never considered you the sort of person to tease another for admitting their feelings. That's my responsibility, not yours –"

"Draco, could you just shut up for a second and let me speak?" Harry said, shaking his head. "I'm not teasing you, you tosser." And making good his words, Harry reached forwards, wrapped a hand around the back of Draco's neck and drew him into a kiss.

It was a different kind of kiss to that which they'd shared in the Forest. Less spontaneous, though Harry had far from planned on doing so, and less contextually inappropriate. If Harry thought about it, which he did only distractedly, only briefly, it would have been the perfect setting for their first kiss: in the warmth of the common room, utterly alone, dry for one and without even the slightest possibility of a threat hanging over their shoulder besides perhaps that Blaise should he happen to awaken early and spring his presence upon them.

Draco's lips were warm. Warm, if frozen in surprise, with not even the whisper of his breath meeting Harry's. Only for a second though, until he sunk into Harry, adjusting the press of their lips upon one another, his own hand rising to cup the back of Harry's head and thread through his hair.

It wasn't a particularly passionate kiss, nothing more than a chaste touch of lips. It might have been unremarkable, even, except for the fact that it was a kiss. A kiss between Harry and Draco, and that Harry actually wanted it. That he wanted sorely. Harry found himself longing to simply maintain their contact, to revel in Draco's touch, to draw himself towards him into that comforting warmth that he'd noticed from him countless times before. Noticed but never really interpreted in quite the same way. Harry was comfortable with Draco, despite everything. Despite their past and their history of antagonism, the war and their forced cooperation for Pipsqueak. For whatever reason, Harry was soothed by his simple presence, and he wasn't objecting to that fact. Far from it, even; why would he? So it was Draco Malfoy, previous rival and son of a Death Eater. That fact hardly seemed matter at all.

When they finally drew away from one another, it was with surprise that Harry noticed they'd physically drawn more closely together. It was as though they'd both unconsciously attempted to close the distance between them. Harry found his chest actually pressed against Draco's, found that they were nearly sitting in one another's laps, so close that even when their kiss parted it wasn't to draw away by far. Harry wasn't complaining.

Draco's face was still flushed slightly, though with a different kind of flush to how it had been. His eyes had closed briefly, fluttering open as Harry blinked his own wide, and met his gaze stare for stare. He looked faintly stunned for a second in a very un-Malfoy-ish expression but that shock faded rapidly. Faded into a smile that was even less like a Malfoy. Harry had never seen Draco smile like that before. He couldn't help but leant forwards slightly to kiss it.

When he drew away again, Draco had locked his arms around him so that even had he wanted to Harry wouldn't have been able to withdraw far. Those arms were tight, and seemed to draw even more tightly around him, dragging Harry towards him until he was nearly sitting on top of him.

"This could get uncomfortable," Harry muttered, more to himself than to Draco and without the faintest touch of concern for the fact.

Draco snorted, though his smile still remained wide on his face. "Far from it, I should think. I've never been more comfortable in my entire life."

"Good for you," Harry said, feeling a grin rise on his lips. "Glad to so oblige, then."

Draco didn't reply immediately. For a moment he only stared at Harry, and Harry didn't think he'd seen him happier in his entire life. Not even on the occasions when he'd quite literally pummelled Harry into the ground with their routine fights. The thought was almost a fond one in the hazy silliness of Harry's mind.

When he did speak, Draco's voice was low and weighted with unexpected intensity, a faint murmur but loud enough to be heard, for his intentions to be conveyed. "Harry. I feel I must ask."

"God, that sounds ominous."

"Shut up for a moment," Draco said, though there wasn't even the faintest sting to his words. "I have to ask, just to clarify." He paused, a flicker of uncharacteristic uncertainty rising upon his face for a moment before Harry saw him deliberately discard. "Will you go out with me?"

Harry stared at Draco for a moment, and even ridiculous as the question was he couldn't withhold the widening of his smile. Leaning forwards, shifting until he really was climbing onto Draco's lap in a way that he had never done with anyone before yet still felt entirely natural, he settled his own arms around Draco more comfortably. "I thought that was already pretty obvious, you idiot."

"Just answer the question, wanker."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Yes. Of course, yes. Git."

"Prat."

"Utter berk."

"Pillock."

"Pain in the arse."

"Stupid poof."

Harry opened his mouth reply – he had a whole list and could go all day – but paused. Cocking his head, he hummed contemplatively. "Huh. I guess I kind of am a bit, then, aren't I?"

Draco's smile broadened at his words. "Thank Merlin for that." He said. Then he tightened his arms around Harry once more, hand raising to the back of his head, and drew him down into another kiss.

This time it was different. Entirely different. Harry found himself fall into Draco, eyes closing and losing himself in the sensation of their contact, of lips parting and tasting his breath, of Draco's tongue sliding into his mouth and caressing his own with such a stimulation of nerves that he felt a shiver course down his spine. His hands fell to grasping more firmly, fingers rising to rake through Draco's hair even as he felt his own tugged, while those of his other hand skirting at Draco's waist, drawing behind his back and dancing across the body-warmed material of his robe.

It was heated, just a little frantic, almost frighteningly impassioned, and Harry revelled in it. He'd never felt anything like it before, nothing even resembling the ardour he felt in that moment for Draco. He felt flushed then chilled, driven by the desperate need to taste him to suck upon Draco's lip, the drink in the wordless hum of appreciation murmured into his mouth. His chest was pressing against Draco's, to which evidently neither of them had any complaint, and his slid his legs up on either side of Draco's thighs just so he could creep a little closer. Harry felt flushed, his skin tingling, an unexpected heat rising in his belly, in his groin which –

"Oh. Um…" Harry drew himself away from Draco momentarily, still maintaining his hold upon his hair, fingers of his other hand still tangled onto Draco's robes. He felt his cheeks flushing as he shuffled back slightly, could hardly meet Draco's gaze even for a second. "Sorry about that, I –"

It was Draco's turn to laugh this time, and he didn't appear even faintly apologetic for doing so. It was a low laugh, his grin widening as, hands dropping to lock onto the back of Harry's jeans, he drew him closer once more. He spared a very pointed look down between them before raising his gaze to meet Harry's eyes with a smirk. Harry felt his cheeks flush further and couldn't help but offer a feeble cuff to the side of Draco's head for his teasing. "Shut up, you git."

Far be it from appearing indignant for Harry's half-hearted smack, Draco's grin only widened. "I'm not complaining in the slightest. It's utterly delightful that you can get turned on by a bit of making out."

"Oh God, please shut up –"

"Utterly delightful."

Harry raised a hand to cover his eyes. Unfortunately, his embarrassment was doing nothing for his arousal, seeming to only maintain the flush in his cheeks. "I hate you."

"No you don't."

"I do. I hate you."

Draco laughed once more before he leaned forwards and very deliberately pried Harry's hand from his eyes. His smile softened slightly as he tilted his head and, with utter surety – the prat, he'd become confident remarkably quickly – he said, "No. You don't." Then he leaned forwards once more and pressed his lips against Harry's.

Harry could have objected. A part of him wanted to; he was quite literally sitting in Draco's lap with got a hard-on that was very difficult to simply overlook. But he didn't. Because Draco's lips against his own, the gentle coaxing into ease and disregard and ignoring the embarrassment entirely distracting. His hand cupped the back of Harry's head once more, drawing him more deeply into their kiss, tilting his head so that he could press even deeper. And when Draco drew Harry's hips towards him once more, when his hand actually reached down between them to slowly caress him through his jeans, Harry felt even the vestiges of his embarrassment fade into a muffled groan.

Leaning into Draco, locking his fingers into his hair once more, he peered down at his eyes with a faint glare that he didn't feel even in the slightest. "Don't do that."

"Really? You don't want me to do that?"

"Here? Now? Not really."

"Liar."

"You realise how many people could walk in on us right now?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "So let them."

Harry shook his head. "You're insufferable. I don't know why I agreed to date you."

Draco's smile widened once more. "Obviously because you like me." He leaned forwards and drew Harry into a kiss once more. Harry couldn't bring himself to draw away, and didn't really want to. Somehow along the way, between losing his breath and losing his head to the feel of Draco pressed against him, Harry forgot his arguments.

Draco touched him just gently, briefly, just enough to draw a gasp from him every other second, and seemed to revel in the fact. Harry couldn't even find it within himself to be embarrassed at that, feeling only increasingly frustrated by the brevity of those touches. He'd never gotten off with another boy before, didn't really know the protocol of what to do with his hands, but that didn't seem to matter all that much in that moment either. Not when Draco was touching him. Not when, quite suddenly, he was made aware that he wasn't the only one more than a little turned on by their situation. Harry had never considered that another bloke getting aroused because of him would be quite so enthralling before.

Apparently, he'd been wrong.

Harry didn't know what to do. Evidently Draco did but Harry didn't. That didn't mean he didn't let his body act for him, however. He found himself reaching for Draco in turn, sliding his fingers beneath his robes and catching upon his trousers beneath, slipping a hand behind the band of his pants. Draco's breath actually caught when his fingers stroked across bare skin, which drew a self-satisfied smile from Harry until his attention was thoroughly diverted by the carress of Draco's tongue on his lips and sliding within his mouth, his fingers stroking against. God but did Harry find a sudden, new appreciation for Draco's fingers. Their long coolness as they slipped down Harry's back, as they slid along the edge of his own trousers, as they swept across his hardness with only the infuriating barrier of jeans between them. Despite himself and his misgivings, Harry thought he would have been more than happy to relieve himself of his clothing if it meant there was just a little less distance between his heated arousal and Draco's touch. He even might have taking the distracted thought up on its suggestion, except -

"Eeeee-yip!"

Harry froze. With his hand halfway down Draco's pants, he stared down into his eyes from where they had both stuttered to a stop mid-kiss. He felt his eyes widen as he saw Draco's do the same, and turned to glance sidelong towards Pipsqueak.

How the hell had he forgotten about Pipsqueak?

The foxlet was blinking as though attempting to clear the grogginess of sleep from her eyes. She'd uncurled from her sleeping coil, ears lopsided as though her slow wakefulness hadn't quite managed to straighten them yet. As Harry's attention turned towards her, immobilised as he was, she staggered to her feet and made her idling way towards them across the short distance of couch. Quite disregarding Harry and Draco's evident intimacy, and their suddenly horrifyingly persistent arousals, she clambered very deliberately into the scant space that had opened between them, slumping as though the walls of their bodies were a hammock bed. She wasn't really small enough to do so, not by any stretch, and Harry found himself nearly tumbled backwards off Draco's lap in Pipsqueak's attempt to slot herself directly in between what were objectively her two favourite people in the world.

Harry couldn't help himself. It was just too irrational. He found himself laughing with just a touch of hysteria as he stared down at Pipsqueak reclined on her back in his and Draco's laps. She peered up at them both innocently with the beginnings of her own smile lolling her mouth open as she was infected by Harry's amusement. Even wider when Draco, shaken from his stupor, rocked his head backwards onto the couch and groaned. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Well, that puts a bit of a dampener on things."

"Quite literally."

Harry laughed again. "Can't be helped, I guess."

Draco rocked his head forwards and turned a glare down upon Pipsqueak. Her resulting wiggle, the wagging of her tails and the widening of her smile, bespoke the absence of any real heat if Harry hadn't been able to see it for himself. "We were kind of in the middle of something here. I should just push you off."

Harry struggled to replace his smile with a frown, dropping an unnecessarily protective hand upon Pipsqueak. "Oi, Draco, you're not throwing her off."

"Just move her to the side, then. We were just –"

"We're not going to get off right in front of her." Harry shook his head, mortified, even as his lips still quivered with amusement. "We're not."

"It's not like it matters –"

"She'll see, Draco."

"Yes? And?"

"This is practically our kid we're talking about here. She's basically a baby still. You can't just –"

Draco dragged a hand over his face, groaning once more, though even he was smiling now. "You can't honestly be trying to pull the 'kid' card, are you? I thought I told you never to do that."

Harry wrapped an arm around Pipsqueak and tugged her more fully towards himself. She came compliantly enough. "We're not doing it now," Harry emphasised, even if his body was still struggling with the residue of the desire to very much do the opposite. He turned his gaze down to Pipsqueak who blinked up at him widely. "Think of it as preserving her innocence for just a bit longer."

Draco groaned once more. Harry laughed.

Harry was still laughing intermittently, albeit with a slight cringe of embarrassment, when the rest of the eighth year tower awoke, just as Draco was still grumbling, exasperated, and yet similarly fighting his grin. Pipsqueak seemed thoroughly pleased with herself, her tails continuing with their incessant wag of self-satisfaction and the hum of her purr thrumming through Harry's legs as she sprawled heavily across his and Draco's laps. Harry had struggled and somehow managed slide himself onto the couch beside Draco as opposed to on top of him. He felt it would probably be best to attempt to preserve the innocence of his friends as well as his foxlet for as long as possible.

Ron was the first to descend from the dormitory, offering a warm and evidently relieved smile when he saw Harry, Draco and Pipsqueak awake and fighting smiles. "Morning, you lot. How are you feeling?"

Before Harry got the chance to reply, Blaise, descending behind Ron, interrupted by way of a morning greeting. "Someone's pleased with themselves. My, my, you're both certainly looking better than you did last night." His smirk was just a little too knowing for Harry's peace of mind as the two of them wandered across the room to the couch that Harry and Draco sat in.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Blaise only shrugged at his question, reaching down to scratch Pipsqueak on her head in a manner that she blatantly ignored. "Nothing, nothing at all."

"Sod off, Zabini," Draco said, tone more mild than such a turn-a-phrase suggested he was. Blaise's smirk only widened as he ran a glance over Draco's objectionably crossed arms and hooded stare as though reading him like a book. He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively in a way that made Harry cringe. How the hell did he know?

Ron glanced between the two of them – the three of them, really – with a questioning frown. "Am I missing something?"

"Always, Ron," Blaise nodded a little long-sufferingly. "Always."

"Hey, I'm not that slow," Ron began, only for Draco to interrupt him.

"Really? You're not?" Then, so deliberately that it couldn't be taken as anything but a taunt, Draco leaned towards Harry, wrapped an arm around his waist, and deliberately planted a kiss upon his cheek.

Harry felt himself flush in a mixture of embarrassment and mortification. Blaise's smirk became leering. Ron blinked, stared, then blinked some more and Harry afforded him a cringeful glance before turning towards Draco and elbowing him in the gut hard enough for him to loose his breath in an "oomph!" "Did you really have to do that?"

The wounded expression Draco had adopted at the elbow-jab became a self-satisfied grin once more. "I really had to."

"You're an arse."

"I never denied I wasn't."

"Wait, wait, hold on." Ron frowned, closed his eyes for a moment as he raised his fingers to his brow. His mind seemed to be shorting with what he had just seen and Harry found himself wincing once more. "So… so you two are, what? You're dating now?"

"Of course not, Weasley," Draco said with such condescending abruptness that Harry started and turned towards him, surprised. "We've hardly had time for a date." Harry offered him another elbow-jab at that, which he only smirked at this time.

Ron, brow still furrowed, turned his full attention towards Harry. "Seriously?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. Out of all his friends, Ron would likely be the one who had the most to say about him and Draco developing any kind of relationship. God, even to himself in the privacy of his mind Harry had to marvel at the thought. He'd barely had time to come to terms with reality himself, regardless of how unexpectedly happy it made him feel.

Harry was technically dating Draco Malfoy. Good God.

Shrugging, and ignoring the way Draco immediately clamped a hand upon his shoulder as he appeared want to do whenever he made the gesture, Harry nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, seriously."

"Got a problem with that, Weasley?" Draco asked, his tone deceptively mild once more. This time, however, Harry got the distinct impression that it was so light because it was masking a hidden threat. "I'm more than happy to talk it out with you."

"Draco, do you have to?" Harry said with a frown.

"I have to. It's my right."

"What, so it wouldn't be my right as his best friend to speak to him before you do? My right?"

"No, because you'd likely botch up any potential explanation."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Your faith in me is astounding."

Draco grinned. "Isn't it just?"

Ron glanced between the two of them with a faintly stunned expression though not, as Harry had feared, accusing, or guarded, or even angry. He just seemed… stunned. "No way… Bloody hell. You're really not just pulling my leg?"

"We're not," Draco replied before Harry got the chance to, and his am tightened almost possessively around him. Harry wasn't really one for PDAs but he found he didn't really mind all that much, despite how embarrassing it was and the returned warmth it induced in his cheeks.

"Shame, though," Blaise said idly, a little wistfully. "It would have been a helluva prank."

"Yeah, because I'm sure Harry and Draco would have been so ready to work together to do just that in the past." Ron rolled his eyes and, surprisingly, seemed to shake himself from his stupor and return to normal. "I'd have known it was a prank."

"I'm sure," Blaise replied easily, smirking once more.

"I would have," Ron said indignantly. "Harry's my best mate, of course I would have – hey, Hermione, guess what?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder to catch sight of Hermione as she descended the stairs alongside Lavender, chatting easily. She glanced up at his call, cocking her head questioningly. "What?"

"Harry and Draco are dating."

Hermione blinked, visibly surprised for only a moment before that surprise faded into a smile. "Oh, really? I'd wondered if it was going to happen soon."

Harry stared, stupefied for a moment, just as Ron did. At his side he heard Draco give a faint snort and felt more than saw him shake his head as he murmured almost inaudibly, "I might actually come to like Granger just a little bit."

Ignoring him, Harry shifted himself beneath Pipsqueak to turn more fully towards Hermione as she crossed the room towards him. "What, you actually thought we'd end up dating?"

It was Lavender who replied, with the same knowing smile upon her face that Hermione wore, that Blaise had worn when he entered the common room. "It was pretty obvious, Harry."

Harry shook his head slowly, turning to Draco who tilted his head slightly, raising his eyebrows as if to say 'well, whatever'. "Am I the only one who didn't see this coming?"

"Probably," Blaise said.

"Don't worry, mate," Ron offered consolingly. "You and me both."

Harry was left to shake his head once more in surprise, barely even noticing when Draco leaned in towards him and planted a faintly patronising kiss on his cheek once more with the words, "Don't worry, you only looks about half as pathetic as you think you do."

After that, he urged Pipsqueak from their lap and with the collective agreement of their friends they made their way down to the Great Hall. Harry was left to marvel slightly the entire trip – at the situation at large, of his dating Draco to his friend's ready and, in Ron's case, a little unexpected acceptance of that fact, of their easy camaraderie in general. How much had changed in so little time. Harry couldn't help but turn his gaze down to the primary reason for that change. She trotted happily between him and Draco, recovered from her bout of terror of the previous day and smiling up at him with her furry grin the whole way.