"You're in love with me?!" Dracosputtered. Harry didn't expect to be met with such vehemence; he hadn't meant to confess his love quite so bluntly, but he had, and he was rather hoping for a less violent response.

Taken aback, Harry stepped away. "I- I'm sorry- " he began, fear blossoming in his chest. "I didn't mean- "

He was cut off by Draco's harsh scowl movingjust inches from his face. His grey eyes sparked with an intense passion, masking the fear and anger within. "Stay away from me, Potter," he hissed, his breath warm on Harry's face. Whirling back
around, he stalked away, leaving Harry breathless and confused.

Retreating to the Slytherin common room, Draco's head was spinning. His breath was ragged, coming in short gasps, and his mind was reeling. Did Harry Potter really just kiss him? And did he really just fuck it up?

Shoving hurriedly past Crabbe and Goyle, who were too dense to realize anything was amiss, Draco headed straight for his bed. Collapsing onto the sheets, he found himself comforted by the green and silver curtains. They were familiar. They felt like home. And so did kissing Harry Potter, his
mind interjected. Exasperated, Draco grabbed his pillow and pulled it tightly over his ears, as if he could will the forbidden thoughts away. There is nothing more aggravating, he thought, than becoming hopelessly entangled with the one person you are not allowed to love. But
he did. He loved the dark-haired boy deeply, Merlin knew why.

The yearwore on relentlessly, both boys drawing farther and farther into themselves, albeit for very different reasons: Harry out of unrequited love, and Draco out of intense guilt and fear. Harry had been helping Professor Dumbledore hunt horcruxes,
but he found he knew surprisingly little about them. Draco, on the other hand, knew nothing of horcruxes or Harry and Dumbledore's little adventures; rather, he was preoccupied with the task Lord Voldemort had assigned him: killing Professor Dumbledore.
He hated himself for it, but he couldn't dissapoint his father. After all, he had taken an oath; he was one of Them now. He had to conplete the task, no matter how awful. He considered going to see the counselor again, but was afraid of revealing
too much, so he suffered silently, quietly dying.

It was nearing the end of term, and Draco knew he had to act now or never. The other Death Eaters were planning an attack on the school, and it was his job to get them inside. Thanks to the Vanishing cabinets in the Room of Requirement and Borgin and
Burke's, this was possible. Still, Draco was afraid. He grew frailer and more agitated by the hour, to the point where he was unable to go to any of his classes. Schoolwork was no longer a priority, and besides, who would miss him anyway?

Harry had noticed Draco's increasingly frequent absences from their classes and meals. Although he had vowed to hate the wicked boy for all he was worth, he still found himself acutely aware of his thoughts drifting to the blonde more often than not.
He was often able to curb these thoughts and keep them within the realm of hatred and revenge, butthe occasional good one would slip through; a memory of one of Draco's rare smiles; the feeling of their lips crashing together in a ridiculous
first kiss; pity for all he must be going through. That night as he went to bed, Harry was unable to keep the good thoughts away. He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of blonde hair and grey eyes.

It was first year; they had just entered the castle for the first time. Draco had extended his hand, and instead of refusing it, Harry took it.

The scene changed; it was second year, and the gang was all together - with one additional member. Draco and he were friends, galavantingabout the castle with Ron and Hermione and getting into all sorts of mischief. They were happy.

The scene morphed once more; it was sixth year, and Draco was telling Harry all about his father and what they wanted him to do. He was scared. Harry embraced him as a close friend, vowing to keep him safe and protect him.

Harry awoke slowly, gradually becoming aware of what was reality and what was not. To his dismay, this beautiful relationship he'd had with Draco was not; still, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that that could be, if only they had the chance.

Unable to fall back asleep, Harry dressed quickly and set out for a walk about the castle. He wasn't worried about getting caught at this hour, and besides, he had his dad's old Cloak on him should he meetanyone. Wandering aimlessly down the halls,
Harry found himself outside Myrtle's bathroom in no time at all. He shuddered, remembering the last time he was here and all that had transpired. He entered slowly, but stopped when he heard someone crying. At first, he thought it must be Myrtle,
but after listening further, he realized her wails were far too distinct to be the soft whimpering he heard now. Tiptoeing, so as not to disturb the other inhabitant, Harry made his way around the corner and toward the occupied stall.

The person crying must have heard him, for the whimpers stopped abruptly as Harry got close. Odd, he thought, that almost sounds... familiar. Creeping a bit further, Harry was very nearly taken out by a haphazardly cast hex coming from the
occupied stall.

"Hey!" he cried out in surprise, reaching for his wand. Although the caster had yet to act again, he was going to be ready.

Harry watched with wideeyes as the door to the occupied stall began to open. First a foot, then a leg, followed by a body and eventually a head appeared; the person had their face cast down, but even the dim lighting of the bathroom could not disguise
that hair.

"Draco?" Harry said, honest surprise in his voice. Draco's head snapped up, obviously not expecting to meet the Golden Boy. He looked as if he were about to make a snarky comment, but the fight just left his body; he had nothing left.

"Potter," Draco muttered, shifting his gaze away from that beautifully unruly hair and tantalizingly green eyes. He seemed not at all alarmed at their meeting, considering the circumstances. Then, to Harry'sgreat surprise, Draco began to cry again.

The tears flowed freely; Draco's body was racked with sobs, and Harry felt the intense urge to wrap him in a hug, despite his status as a Death Eater. Must be residual from the dream, he surmised. As he watched, however, he could not shake the feeling;
finally, when he could bear it no longer, he closed the space between them in two quick steps and wrapped his arms around Draco before he could protest.

At first, Draco stiffened; gradually, however, he relaxed into the other boy's arms and resumed sobbing. His own arms soon found their way around Harry's waist, and they stood like that for quite some time, Draco resting his head on Harry's shoulder and
cryinguntil there were no tears left.

Slowly, Draco untangled himself from the other boy, refusing to make eye contact. Harry, however, was not about to let this moment pass by unnoticed. Cupping Draco's chin in his hand, he raised his face until they could see each other eye to eye; when
grey met green, it was all over. Draco found himself sharing everything, from being a Death Eater to his mission to kill Dumbledore - a mission that was to be fulfilled the following night. Although there was no mention of his feelings for Harry,
enough was felt to make up for it.

Harry stood for a long time, trying unsuccessfully to process all that he'd just heard. Draco, for his part, was trying simply not to panic. It was a lot to take in, but it felt incredible to have it off of his chest. Eventually, Harry moved as if to
speak.

"We have to stop this," was eventually what he settled on. Seeing the panic on Draco's face, he realized this may not have been a wise choice. "The attack on Hogwarts, I mean," he added quickly, relieved to see the other boy visibly relax.

"I know," Draco replied, his voice hoarse from all the crying. "If I don't open the Vanishing Cabinet, then they can't get in. That won't be the end of it, though. They'll find another way."

Taking Draco's hands in his own, Harry replied, "I know. But we'll fight this. Together. I can't ignore you any more, and I certainly can't hate you. I love you, Draco, and we need to end this."

Draco's heart swelled in his chest. After all this - all he'd done, all they'd been through, years of hatred - Harry Potter was still standing there saying he loved him. It was a wonderful feeling, one that Draco was finally willing to give in to.

"I love you, too, Harry," Draco replied. The accompanying smile was weak, but sincere. After a pause, he added,"I've loved you for a long time."

Harry's lips met Draco's in a soft kiss, the kind that both comforts and excites simultaneously. Pulling back, Harry smiled. Even though Hogwarts was under imminent attack, Voldemortwas still out there trying to kill him, and nobody in the world
would understand the relationship he had with the beautiful boy standing in front of him, he was happy. Really, genuinely happy for the first time in a long time. And for that moment, nothing else mattered.