"IT'S SNOWING!"

Ron startled awake at the unexpected yell. Harry was yanking back his bed curtains to throw his jumper and jacket at him.

"Come on, Ron! It's the first snow of the season. We have to get out there before it stops!"

Ron groaned. "Harry, mate, come on. What time is it?"

Harry popped his head out of the jumper he was pulling on, his hair a wild mess. "It's daylight, Ron. Be glad I didn't wake you earlier. It's been snowing all night!"

Ron groaned again. "Mate, you need to fix this sleeping thing. It's a Saturday and we're going to Hogsmeade later today. What we should be doing is sleeping in. Conserve our energy."

Harry snickered as he pulled on a second pair of socks and hunted about for his boots. "Right. You wouldn't need to sleep in and 'conserve energy' if there were fewer going ons so late at night."

Ron grinned even as he blushed and mock glared. "Now then. There's no need to be knocking the late night studying. It's highly important for the NEWTS."

Harry snorted and tossed Ron's scarf at his head. "Come on! I'm of a mind to start a snow ball battle in the Quidditch Pitch. Want to help me recruit soldiers?"

Ron grinned, suddenly a lot more awake. "House battle to the death?"

Harry grinned back. "That's the idea, though it might be a bit tricky making sure all four houses are represented."

"Potter! What the fuck?"

Harry just laughed and launched another snowball, smacking Malfoy square in the chest again. "What, Malfoy? Too Pansy to defend yourself?"

Someone behind Malfoy gasped, then Pansy marched forward. "You did not just say that, Potter!"

"Oh, I know exactly what I said, Parkinson. Afraid a little snow is going to mess up your hair?"

Blaise smirked at him from behind a gawping and glowering Pansy. "Potter, you've let the beast out of the cage now."

Harry snickered as he looked Pansy up and down. "Beast, huh?"

Pansy actually growled and threw her book bag to the ground, uncaring of the wet snow that immediately started to seep into it. "That's it! Potter, you're going down!"

"Quidditch Pitch. Half an hour," Harry replied promptly. Then he ran forward, grabbed Malfoy by the hair at the nape of his neck and gave him a quick, violent, open-mouthed kiss. Pulling away he grinned at the surrounding Slytherins and ran after the Gryffindors headed towards the Quidditch Pitch to get started on their fortress. "Don't be late now!" he yelled over his shoulder before disappearing around the bend.

"I've got your glasses now, Potter. What exactly do you think you're going to do when you can't see for shit?"

Without warning Draco found himself tackled, their bodies intertwining, as they rolled over and over. They finally jolted to a halt when Potter's back slammed into a tree trunk half way down the slope. He grunted but didn't relinquish his hold on Draco's robes.

Draco opened his eyes to find Potter leaning over him, eyes sparkling, grinning. "Don't need my glasses when we're this close, Malfoy." Then he leaned down so all of his weight was resting on Draco and kissed him, slipping his hands into Draco's hair on either side of his temples, cradling his face.

Draco moaned as he melted into the kiss, Potter an almost reassuring weight, holding him down, making his nerves tingle with heat everywhere they touched, snow and competition forgotten.

Pansy smirked as she sipped at her hot chocolate delicately. "All things considered, that went very well."

Blaise snorted. "Very well? We massacred them. Yeah, I'd say that went well."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Whatever. It was just a snow ball fight. No big deal."

Pansy's eyes narrowed at him. "You would say that. You were absolutely useless. Practically spent the entire battle making out with Potter."

Blaise grinned as Draco's cheeks stained pink. "At least he kept Potter out of the battle too. That boy has freakishly good aim."

Pansy took another sip of her hot chocolate, her gaze turning introspective. "Although, I have to ask. You two weren't exactly being discrete. I mean, you're lucky most of the people were either distracted or too IQ impaired to actually figure out what was happening in the snow drifts. You ready for people to find out about this?"

Draco squirmed in his seat. To be honest, he hadn't given it much thought. He tended to forget most of everything when Potter was around. He didn't know if he wanted people to find out. If he was being rational about it, it wasn't a good idea. Nothing good would come of a potential relationship between the Vanquisher and an ex-Death Eater – and that wasn't even addressing the entire gay thing. No one would give a fuck one or the other that he might be gay – except possibly his parents. Draco winced, thinking about their reaction. But Harry – Potter – if that hit the newsstands, there would be a deluge of hate mail and people wondering if it was all a joke and yelling about how it couldn't possibly be true so it had to be some kind of mistake. Draco's insides squirmed. He wasn't sure he was ready to face that kind of scrutiny. And he would be the one who would get the brunt of it. Sure, Harry – Potter! – would be talked about, but it would be Draco who'd get blamed for the whole thing. He just knew it. He was surprised there hadn't been a worse reaction from Potter's friends. They appeared to have just taken the whole thing in stride. It made him wonder what Potter might have said to them to get that kind of cooperation.

Then he looked at Pansy and Blaise, conversing quietly between themselves now to give him space to think his own thoughts and realized that maybe Potter hadn't had to say anything. He abruptly resolved to get both Pansy and Blaise extra-special Christmas presents this year, then sighed under his breath.

Keeping the secret for as long as possible was the rational response in this scenario. So of course Potter was running true to form and pretty much flaunting it in the face of anyone who cared to take the time to put two and two together. And the way Potter had been acting lately it really would be just that simple. And then, today. Honestly. What was he thinking, kissing him in full view of the castle windows? They weren't keeping secrets from their friends so he supposed it was okay – if only marginally – that Potter jump him in front of them. But in front of the castle entrance? That had been a bit much.

Draco sighed again, this time more deeply. Try as he might, he couldn't dislodge the warmth that was settling in his chest at the thought of Harry flaunting their... whatever it was. Running after him in the corridors, voluntarily sitting with him in class, stolen kisses all over the castle, cuddling for Pete's sake, that completely absurd smile Potter always got whenever he spotted Draco... honestly it was a wonder no one had started gossip yet. He supposed that was down to their friends not talking about things openly as much as oblivion on the part of the rest of the castle denizens.

Might in part also have to do with Potter himself. No one could have missed the fact that he looked much, much happier these days and smiled much more readily than he had at the beginning of the year. There was that warm frisson in his chest again at the thought he might be partly responsible for that happiness. He'd witnessed enough protective behavior towards Potter – sometimes even from complete strangers – that it might just be one giant conspiracy where everyone kept quiet as long as Potter went about humming as he'd taken to doing these days. Then again, it only took the one person to gasp in outrage before the rest of the herd took off after them. Quite honestly, the rational course here would be to stay quiet and get Potter to tone it down for Merlin's sake.

Even as he resolved to talk to Potter about his less than discrete behavior, there was the tinniest, smallest part of him that was advocating throwing out the rational and just enjoying the ride. That – small! miniscule even! – part of him actually enjoyed the way that Potter flaunted the fact that he had a – thing – for Draco. Liked it, reveled in it, wanted to say to hell with the world and just give in. Let Potter hold his hand when they walked down corridors and pop in on him at odd moments to tell him that he had missed Draco and let him hug him when they met again after significant absences. Such absurd little things but they seemed to make Potter ludicrously happy whenever Draco allowed such behavior. And that small part of him was whispering that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to allow that to continue. To be just that bit more public with it. That he might actually enjoy the attention rather than trying to squirm away every time Potter tried. That small voice shrank away from the thought that after a while Potter might stop trying. After all, there were only so many times someone would be willing to brave rejection. It would be just his luck that he'd ended up with a Gryffindor who apparently had a rather high threshold for bravery in all things big and small.

Draco took a deep breath and knocked on the door to Potter and Weasley's room. He hadn't been here before and somehow it felt like a big step, this invasion of someone's private space.

Potter yanked the door open and then his face split into that absurdly large grin when he saw Draco standing there. There was something about that grin that always made Draco soften on the inside. He wasn't sure what it was or that he liked it particularly. Just that it was an expression of such pure joy he sometimes had a problem accepting that he might be the one who inspired such a reaction just by his mere presence. Ah well. He'd always known Potter was absurd. Why not abnormal reactions as well?

"Draco!" Potter grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. "Check this out! 'Mione worked out some Arithmancy equations for me that might help with the Bromski Roll." Half way to his bed he reversed direction, pressed an open-mouthed kiss on Draco's lips, squeezed him in a hug, then bounced back to the mess of papers scattered on his mattress.

This was exactly what Draco had been thinking about. It felt like he would be cheating Potter if he asked him to curb his enthusiasm – it was always so extravagant in its expression. Especially since he remembered a time when Potter was much more reserved in everything he did and said, almost hunched in on himself. As he watched Potter sorting papers into some semblance of order that he could properly explain to Draco, he realized that Potter still was that person sometimes. It was just that he'd gotten used to seeing him around people who he was extremely comfortable with, and so tended to be more honest in his actions and reactions, less worried about judgment, if at all. A jolt ran through Draco when he realized that he was, indubitably, a member of that company now. It almost felt like he always had been in some way because he'd never seen that Potter had ever felt the need to censure himself in his presence – even before the insanity that was their – relationship, he supposed. He couldn't think of another term that might fit.

"Draco?" Potter looked puzzled to find him still standing by the door rather than following him into the room.

That was another thing. Potter had taken to calling him 'Draco'. Just randomly dropped the Malfoy one day, though it cropped up in conversation occasionally. He swallowed as he realized that Potter was 'Harry' more often than not now – at least in his thoughts. It would be a bit before he could bring himself to address him as such out loud. But at least he had tacit permission to do so. In any case, he didn't think it was wise if they planned to keep their secret. Once Potter officially became Harry in everyday nomenclature, he didn't think he'd be able to guard his tongue in company – though he was far more practiced at it than Harry – Potter! – could ever hope to be.

Hands slowly pulled him into a hug, a gentle one this time, his head resting in the crock of Harry's neck, with him murmuring softly in his ear. "What's up?"

They stood like that a minute, then Draco strangled the small part of him that was telling him that this conversation wasn't necessary, that nobody would care, that it wouldn't really matter so very much if he let nature take its course rather than fighting so hard against it. He pushed away from Harry, strengthening his spine with ice, putting away the small voice in a dark corner of his mind where he wouldn't have to listen to it.

"Potter. We need to talk."

Potter blinked and got the strangest expression on his face, somewhere between bemusement and a grimace. "Ok-aaay." He tugged Draco over to the bed and swept aside his papers, careless now, before perching on the edge and patting the seat next to him.

Draco declined to sit, rather pacing a short two step circuit in front of Potter. He clasped his hands behind his back lest he be tempted to reach out to Potter as his fingers were itching to do. It would be an extremely effective way of putting off this 'talk' until later. Finally he stopped at one end of his circuit and turned to look at Potter. He was sitting cross-legged now, his hands in his lap, playing with the frayed edges of the t-shirt he was wearing, his eyes following Draco as he moved around. Draco paused as he processed the look on Potter's face. It wasn't hostile, not by a long stretch but there was still something... off. It was too... blank. Draco blinked and took a closer look. Yes, that was exactly right. It was too blank. Potter rarely guarded his reactions around Draco any more, and seeing that blank mask on his face... Draco swallowed as something squirmed and squeezed inside his chest. He wasn't sure he liked it.

Regardless. These things needed to be said. "Potter. This nonsense needs to stop."

Potter made a gasping sound but the blankness on his face hadn't changed and he didn't look like he was going to say anything else.

"I'm serious, Potter. It's too much, with you sitting with me in class and running around the corridors like you have no cares in the world. Seriously, could you be any more blatant?"

"Well." Potter sounded breathless though his face was as blank as it had been when Draco started talking. "That was a shorter relationship than I was counting on to be honest."

Draco blinked. 'What?' "What?"

Potter looked at him with his disconcertingly blank eyes. "To be honest, I was hoping it would take you a lot longer to get fed up. Was counting on it even."

Draco frowned and huffed. He didn't like the look on Potter's face. And he was reacting completely in a way that Draco hadn't expected. But at least he was getting the message. "Well, what were you expecting? Subtlety was never your strong suit but I would have expected better even from you. You keep flaunting this in your Gryffindor way and it will be a matter of time before the gossips get in on the act. I do not need the hassle of being labeled the Vanquisher's Corruptor, thank you very much. So the least you can do is tone it down when we're in public. Because honestly, what was that, in front of the cast- eep!"

Draco couldn't help that undignified sound when Potter jumped off the bed and grabbed him by his collar, pulling him close. The blank look had been replaced by one of great intensity that was equally as hard to read. "So. Let me get this straight. You're worried about people finding out? That's where the flaunting and the Gryffindor-ishness and nonsense comes in?"

Draco squirmed trying to loosen Potter's hold but he just tightened his fingers and gave him a shake. Draco's eyebrows snapped together. "Yes! You boorish oaf! What did you think I was talking about? I mean, seriously, this morning! In front of the cast-"

Potter cut him off again with a hard yank. Draco was starting to get worried, thinking about the way their whatever it was had started out. He hadn't been expecting that Potter might want to go back to breaking his nose. He squirmed as he watched Potter take deep breaths. He hoped they were calming breaths. Finally, Potter lifted his gaze and looked Draco dead in the eye. The fierceness in them made him swallow.

"Now you listen to me, Malfoy."

Draco blinked. Malfoy?

"I'm not sure what it is that we have between us. In fact, it matters very little to me what we end up calling it. But-" Here he yanked Draco closer still. "You should know that I'm not ready to give up on it yet. Not by a long shot."

Draco blinked and tightened his own hold on Potter's wrists. "So, what-?"

"What I'm saying, Malfoy, is that if you want me to tone it down, then fine. I'll do that. But you should plan on dealing with the gossip at some point because I'm not ready to give up before we've even had a fighting chance. And I refuse to lie about this. It's too important for that."

Draco swallowed. His fingers were probably digging into Potter's wrists by now, but he didn't seem to notice. There was a warmth spreading through him, dissipating the chill in his chest he hadn't even noticed was there.

Harry collapsed on his bed once Draco left. Shit. He hadn't been planning on saying all that. He wasn't sure Malfoy had been ready to hear it yet. But when he'd thought Malfoy had showed up to end their relationship, out of the blue, without the slightest hint beforehand, he'd lost his head a little bit. He frowned as he thought about that. When had this thing with Malfoy become so important? But then, he'd kind of, sort of, always known that it was important to him. It had been important to him before it had evolved into whatever it was at the moment.

Harry pouted. "Why can't I just stay in the castle for Christmas, 'Mione? I have before!"

Hermione sighed, already weary of this argument. "Never when you had another choice besides the Dursleys, Harry. And besides, it would break Mrs. Weasley's heart if she thought you were here by yourself." She held up one hand to shush Harry before he could interrupt. "And there's no guarantee that Malfoy – or anyone else of our acquaintance – is staying back at Hogwarts."

Harry scowled fiercely as he thought about a way around these arguments. If he was honest with himself, 'Mione actually had a few good points in there somewhere, but he wasn't feeling in a very congenial mood and preferred to sulk.

The longer Harry sat there, staring at his books, the more the malcontent ate at him. It wasn't fair that even when he was meant to be able to do what he pleased – of age and everything – he wasn't going to get what he really wanted. And it wasn't that much to ask either, to want a couple of minutes with his sort-of maybe boyfriend on Christmas day to exchange gifts in person. But only the bizarreness that ruled his life could have decreed that his sort-of maybe boyfriend be someone the rest of the world saw as anathema to being even in the same room as him, let alone have any sort of pleasant contact with, Merlin forbid.

The more he thought about it, the more pronounced his scowl became, the more he didn't want to be doing anything, and the more he snipped and whined at those unfortunate enough to be sitting around him. Ron and Hermione were used to it, so they were ignoring him. Experience told them that he would either eventually shut up or find a solution that no one would like but would suit him just fine. Greg had had his dose of whining as well, from days when Harry was still frustrated with the general population of the Castle and the mere mention of reporters or the Daily Prophet could send him into a tail spin. He wasn't as likely to be rolling his eyes as Ron and Hermione, but he was keeping his head down and getting on with the business of homework. Pansy and Blaise were shooting him curious glances from carefully blank faces, probably wondering at this new side of him neither had been witness to before. He knew Blaise at least had to be wondering where all the shit he was spouting was coming from, considering he didn't tend to give a crap about most of what he was complaining about on a normal day. And Malfoy... Harry sighed loudly, then proceeded to complain about the essay Flitwick had assigned which wasn't due for another two weeks yet. He could tell he was getting on Malfoy's nerves but right this second, he couldn't bring himself to stop.

He also knew he was probably being childish, but it was pissing him off that even to ask to go over to Malfoy Manor for a couple of hours during their two week holiday would be a big enough deal as to require a sustained siege in order to get anyone to take him seriously. Not to mention enough to stain Christmas festivities for everyone. He wasn't even worried overmuch about his likely reception at Malfoy Manor. A little frostiness never hurt anybody and he could take whatever Narcissa was willing to dish out. Much more of concern at the moment was the reaction of everyone who would try to 'protect' him and his so called virtue should he like to talk about his sort-of maybe boyfriend like any normal, gay bloke. He had to sit through Percy's recital of the Deadly Tales of Courtship. He wanted to tell a few of his own. Not that he and Malfoy had had anything that could be called close to a courtship. But he bet his stories were still more interesting than anything Ignatius could come up with. Why couldn't everyone just trust that he knew what he was doing for once? They trusted that he could help them defeat Voldemort and gave him enough rope to hang himself – almost literally in this instance. But mention this at the Weasley table and he was instantly a child again. Poor little orphan Harry who would never spout such utter nonsense if only his mother had been around to teach him sense.

Harry growled under his breath, then proceeded to list all of the potions in Advanced Potions that he didn't like and would never get right because clearly they were out to get him.

Draco finally slammed his Potions text shut, giving up on getting any studying done with Potter sitting there in his current mood. "Potter! Would you shut up! For fuck's sake! Must you whine so much!"

The scowl Potter had been sporting since he arrived became more ferocious. "It's not my fault the world is such an unfair place that it requires copious amounts of whining."

Abruptly Draco's temper snapped, his own anxieties about the upcoming couple of weeks at the Manor completely severing the connection between his brain and tongue. "Well, you know what, Potter? Get the fuck over it! Life isn't fair. You're a perfect example. The world treats you like a king, and here you are playing the pauper. Well, how is that fair to the rest of us who could use some of that golden light to rescue us from the shadows? The answer is that it isn't. Just look at you, for fuck's sake. An orphan who likes dressing in rags. All because he still hasn't completely gotten over the fact that his relatives are no longer around to punish him for looking decent. Well, fuck you and your whinging!"

There was an appalled silence following this outburst and then Draco's blood froze in his veins as he heard the echo of the words in his head. Some of that should never have been said for the ears of others to hear. Potter's face was completely devoid of expression and he was looking at some point in the distance, facing away from the group.

Weasley suddenly snarled, breaking the silence and opened his mouth as if to add his two cents, but Potter's dead voice cut across him before he could even start.

"Ron."

He said just that one word, but there was a world of meaning in the tone, none of which Draco was capable of understanding but which was apparently perfectly clear to Weasley and Granger. They didn't stop glaring daggers at him, but they didn't say anything either as they gathered their things with sharp darting movements and left. Potter waited until a door slammed somewhere upstairs, still staring away from the group, then got up stiffly from his seat and walked out the portrait hole.

Draco swallowed painfully. There was a ringing in his ears and he was having trouble breathing.

Pansy and Blaise exhaled at the same time, then started collecting their things together as well. Pansy looked Draco in the eye just before she got up from her seat. Her voice when she spoke was soft, but her words weren't. "You, Draco Lucius Malfoy, are a fool. We love you. We always will. But that doesn't mean we can't acknowledge the fact that you're a complete and utter idiot sometimes."

That said, she got up and left. Blaise hesitated but when he realized that Pansy was headed to the boys' dorm rather than her own, he got up and followed her.

Draco hadn't moved since he stopped talking and he jumped when he felt someone touch his shoulder. Goyle, with a more understanding expression on his face than Draco had any right to expect.

"You know, Harry never whines."

"Of course he does. He whines all the time." Even to his own ears his voice sounded weak.

Goyle's in contrast was firm. "No he doesn't. The only time he whines is when he's really upset about something but doesn't know how to fix it. Then he whines about everything except what's really bothering him. "

Draco swallowed, trying to get his parched throat to work properly. "How do you know?"

"Granger told me."

Draco raised one eyebrow. Goyle shuffled a little then shrugged. "Back when everyone was trying to get Harry to act famous, he would whine sometimes. On days he was whining, he would do it all day long. So I thought if maybe I asked Granger she would help me fix some of it for him. But Granger said that anything that Harry was actually complaining about was the last thing that was really bothering him and asking him straight was the best way to find out what was really wrong."

Draco swallowed again. "Did it work?"

Goyle gaze unfocused a little as if he was picturing it right now. "Yeah." His voice had just a tinge of in it that made Draco's insides burn with an emotion he didn't want to name right now. "I even got him to smile his smile and then everything was okay."

"I can't stand that smile. How do you stand that smile?"

He knew anyone else and that statement would be completely misconstrued. But Goyle understood exactly what he was talking about. Neither of them had been the subject or cause of such intense joy as Potter seemed to project and it was overwhelming at the best of times. Other times it made you want to run away altogether.

"You become used it after a while. I mean, Harry's not Harry without his smile." Goyle thought about it some more. "I think I would miss it if Harry didn't smile like that anymore."

They lapsed into silence as they both contemplated the addictive nature of a smile that could warm your insides without even trying. Draco felt even more cold thinking that maybe it'd be a while before he got to see that smile for himself.

"You should go after him."

He looked up at Goyle. "Shouldn't I let him cool down first?"

Goyle hesitated, then, "He might yell, but it'd be better if you talked sooner. Harry wouldn't be hurting for as long."

Draco winced as he considered that he might have the power to hurt Harry Potter. But he didn't, did he? Draco would always doubt that he had the power to hurt Harry Potter. Not many could touch the Vanquisher. But here Goyle and he were talking about I-want-to-be-Normal-Harry, just Harry. Harry, his Harry, was strangely vulnerable to commentary on his lack of proper family, even from strangers. And Draco had to acknowledge that he was no longer mere enemy or random bloke at school. He didn't know what he was exactly and he was in no hurry to define the amorphous interactions between Potter and him. But he was something and he had to accept that his words carried weight. Weight enough to cut Harry if he was careless.

"Fuck!"

He had been more than careless. He had been downright cruel in fact.

"Fuck! He could be anywhere. How am I going to find him?"

"You might try the Quidditch pitch. Harry likes flying when he's upset."

Draco knew that. Why hadn't he thought of that? He paused as it occurred to him that Harry hadn't stopped for his broom – or for anything else for that matter – but then he remembered the first task in the Triwizard Tournament and got up impatiently. He was wasting time.

Without another word he walked out the portrait hole in an eerie imitation of Harry.

Draco circled the pitch one more time on the broom he'd 'borrowed' from the school shed, looking above him as well as below, wondering if Harry was hiding in the cloud cover. He could go much higher with his superior broom and Draco might never be able to catch up. Ten minutes later he was finally ready to admit that Harry wasn't here. He was good but he wasn't so small that he could hide that well in the open sky when a determined seeker was looking for him.

Just as he was about to head down to look somewhere else, a thought occurred to him. He whipped around on his broom, struggled to steady it against the sharp maneuver, then sped towards the last turret closest to the Quidditch pitch. Just as he'd thought, Potter was sitting in the hidden roof alcove there, his arms around his legs, his chin resting on his knees, another 'borrowed' broom lying next to him. He didn't move or react when Draco landed.

Draco hesitated, then sat down a respectful distance away – at this distance, Potter could ignore him if he wanted to pretend that he wasn't there – and placed his broom parallel to Potter's.

They sat like that for a few minutes, just listening to the wind. Then, "I saw you looking for me you know. The clouds, really?"

Draco struggled to form words but his throat closed around anything he might have said and his tongue felt swollen, leaving him feeling as if he would not be able to speak properly even if he knew what to say. He knew what he ought to be saying, but the words wouldn't come. It didn't help that he rarely, if ever, admitted to being wrong – at least out loud – and sincerity made him feel vulnerable in a way that made him defensive. Needless to say, that combination meant he often ended up with Pansy yelling at him and smoothing things over with whoever had been at the receiving end of his scathing tongue. And though normally he was content to allow others to take care of things for him, this felt different somehow. He didn't want Pansy – or anyone else – intruding on whatever was between Potter and him. Just like he suspected Potter hadn't wanted Weasley to interfere. That made him feel at least a little better, though it also meant that it was up to him to fix things. If he even could.

"I-" Draco tried again.

Potter sighed when the silence stretched. "I will not try and change who you are, Malfoy. I've always known who you are, known what you were capable of. I knew Third Year, and I knew Sixth Year even though no one would believe me, and I know now."

Draco digested this and swallowed. He finally got his throat to cooperate, though his voice came out hoarse and soft enough to be a whisper. "What if I want to change?"

Potter's brilliant green eyes flashed to his and pinned him in place. Then they softened in a way it should have been impossible for eyes to do, almost melting as that inner light that was intrinsically Potter started to shine in them. "Then I'll help you." He hesitated, then smiled softly. "Just don't change too much. I wouldn't recognize my life without arse Malfoy in it creating havoc."

Draco's breathing eased and just like that it was easier to swallow. They sat watching the clouds scud across the sky for a long while, not really needing to say anything more for the moment.