Disclaimer: The normal ones from earlier apply...

A/N: With a special thanks for all the people who sent me their lovely, lovely words. You made me want to write again :)

Draco was avoiding him. Again. Harry sighed as he headed towards the Great Hall for breakfast. This was Day Three since he had woken up by himself in the Room of Requirement, and it felt like Draco and he had taken ten steps backwards in their relationship if they were back to avoidance.

"Harry!"

He turned and waited until Hermione caught up and linked her arm with his. "Progress?"

Harry shook his head. "Same old, same old."

She gave his arm a squeeze as they passed into the Great Hall. "He'll come around. You'll see."

Draco froze with a forkful of egg in his mouth. Fuck. Potter was here. In fact, he and Granger were no doubt headed straight to the Eighth Years table just this instance. Damn Pansy and her whinging at him about eating right and starving the pretty right out of himself and her clearly misinformed assurances of of course he won't be there... he eats at the crack of dawn like a mad person. He abruptly put down the fork, making ready to leave, his eyes never leaving the two engrossed Gryffindors as they moved across the room.

His eyebrows quirked as Potter bent towards Granger's ear and murmured something, and Granger replied with what he could tell, even from this distance, was her well-practiced Oh Harry. Abruptly she stopped and pulled Potter into a hug right there in the middle of the Great Hall, curious eyes be-damned.

Draco's eggs stuck in his throat going down as Potter buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes, looking as if he wanted to hang on to her as hard as he could but wouldn't in case he hurt her with the force of his need. Draco's eyes were starting to sting and he very badly wanted to leave, but he would just draw attention to himself if he stood up now.

"Oye!" Everyone turned towards the doors of the Great Hall to witness the entrance of a ginger fury, shaking his fist in the air as he progressed towards the rest of the Golden Trio. "Get your ruddy hands off my girlfriend!"

As one, heads swiveled to take in where one Harry Potter stood with his arms wrapped around Granger's waist. Abruptly, his arms tightened, pulling her further into his body, twisting to put himself between Granger and Weasley. "Oh yeah? And if I don't?"

Weasley shook his fist harder. "I'm warning you, Potter!"

Jaws and cutlery dropped as Potter stuck his tongue out at Weasley, bent forward to sweep a squealing Granger into his arms, and took off across the Hall. Weasley immediately gave chase.

"Potter!"

Some of the Firsties were beginning to giggle uncertainly as astonishment started to give way to amusement. Draco struggled to swallow the mouthful that had become painfully lodged in his throat while he had surreptitiously been not-watching Potter and Granger earlier. Potter blew past him, Granger holding on for dear life even as she admonished him to put her down this instant in a breathless voice.

Potter rounded the edge of the Eighth Year table and put it between Weasley and himself just as the catcalls and hooting were starting. Ginger screeched to a halt just behind Draco, huffing from his run across the Great Hall.

"Potter! You're going to pay for this. Give her back!"

"Honestly! You two! This is not a game. Harry James Potter, you will put me down now or I-eek!"

Potter's grin was wicked as he started to run in one direction, and then back again when Weasley went to cut him off at the end of the table. It seemed they were at an impasse. Weasley was between Potter and the exit, and the Eighth Year table between him and Potter. Short of climbing straight across the table, they could do their running around dance all day. Draco shifted a little to provide clear access without getting his breakfast dumped in his lap should either of them get any bright ideas. He froze when Potter's eyes flicked to him, but Potter didn't do anything more than wink at him before he took off towards the end of the table again, Weasley mirroring him on this side of the table – that is, until he ran into Goyle's pumpkin juice.

"The fuck-?"

Potter barked a laugh as he swept things out of the way and gently placed Granger on the table. He took her hands and kissed the back of each before he murmured, "Princess." Then he did exactly what Draco had been thinking and launched himself across the table at Weasley where he stood blinking pumpkin juice out of his eyes. They went down in a tangle of swearing and laughter. That was when the cheering and betting started.

"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Potter! This behavior is extremely inappropriate for Eighth Years and you will both stop and get off the floor this instance!"

The cavalry had arrived apparently.

Harry was so tired. Granted the detentions Ron and he had earned earlier had been beyond totally worth it. McGonagall had let them go in exasperation, shaking her head at the mess of a trophy room when they had valiantly tried to pretend they had been polishing all along rather than whispered messing about and giggling nonsensically. But he couldn't seem to be able to fall asleep regardless of how tired he felt physically.

He hadn't been sleeping at night, and what little sleep he got while cat-napping was not enough. In fact, it made him even more restless. He was so tired. So tired. He just wanted to close his eyes and not have them ache. His body hurt from the exhaustion, his muscles numb and strangely achy at the same time. He had a headache. He'd had it for so long now he couldn't remember when it first started. His voice was hoarse and croaky from too much talking or too little talking or he didn't know what. His shoulders were developing a permanent hunch from propping himself up on his elbows as he dragged himself through the day. He was so, so tired. He wanted to lie down and sleep, and not have his brain go into overdrive as soon as he stopped moving. It felt like he hadn't stopped moving in days.

Day Five. Harry was determinedly not upset. There was nothing to be upset about until he'd spoken to Malfoy. Then he would decide if there was anything to be upset about. In the spirit of not being upset, he took a long, pounding, scorching hot shower in the prefects' washroom, and then headed to the Great Hall to start his day with a proper breakfast. Nothing bad could happen on a day when he had had a proper breakfast. Everyone said so. More importantly, Hermione said so, so it must be true.

He felt all the muscles in his back that the shower had relaxed try to bunch up and tie themselves into knots again as he entered the Great Hall and walked towards the Eighth Years table. That was strange. That creeping feeling up his spine hadn't happened to him in a long time. Not since...

He glanced around to take in the mood of the room. Staring students, check. Gaping mouths, check. Whispered gossip poorly concealed behind hands, check. A leaden lump settled in the bottom of his stomach. He wasn't sure if he was up to dealing with this kind of shite today.

"So what's the Prophet gone and done now?" he asked as mildly as he could manage as he slid into place next to Goyle. Blaise cleared his throat and opened his mouth as if to reply, then silently passed along the newspaper Anthony was holding.

Harry Potter: The Boy Who Loved Men?

The Chosen One has finally Chosen Another! This reporter has heard tantalizing rumours out of Hogwarts that Harry Potter, the Saviour who is the object of everyone's affections, and the star of every witch's fantasies, has finally picked a significant other! In a very hush-hush interview with a Hogwarts student earlier this week, it was disclosed that this significant other is bound to break the heart of every witch in the Wizarding World, but perhaps not for the reason we would assume. Could it be? The Vanquisher has finally chosen to give his heart, but to a wizard rather than a witch?!

There was a picture of Harry exiting the orphanage they had held their candy-drive at, smiling and waving good bye over his shoulder to all the children gathered to see him off. Right next to that was a small heading, War Reparation or Burgeoning Romance?, with a picture of Harry and Draco standing very close under a tree somewhere in Hogsmeade. The afternoon light was making them glow, both of them with what were almost serene looks on their faces, and even though they appeared to be staring off into the middle distance, watching the same invisible spot miles away, they kept sneaking glances at each other.

Harry stared at that picture for a long time before finally returning the paper. There was more to the article, but he didn't want to read it. "Where is he?"

At Blaise's helpless shrug, he got up abruptly and headed to the dorms. If ever he had needed the help of the Marauders' Map, this would be the time.

He found him in the Room of Requirement, sitting on the floor in preference to the comfortable seating the Room had arranged, slumped against the back wall, his elbows on his knees and hair in disarray from having run his fingers through it too many times.

Harry paused at the door before closing it softly behind him and going to take a seat next to Draco, not touching, but close. "Well, that's gone and torn it then."

Draco snorted as he lifted his head to look at him. "The gift of understatement – yet another of your many talents I see Potter."

Harry shrugged and looked back, waiting.

Draco finally sighed and looked down at his clasped hands. "It's not like we didn't see this coming. It was inevitable really. Hopeless even thinking anything to do with The Vanquisher could be kept secret for all that long."

Harry winced at the soubriquet, but still didn't say anything.

"We can't keep doing this." Malfoy looked at him almost pleadingly. "You see that, don't you? My mother…" Malfoy trailed off as he put his head in his hands. "I can only imagine what she must think."

"It can't be all that bad. I mean, I get that this is not how she should have found out, but she would want you to be happy, right? I mean–"

"Potter, you understand nothing! I'm the last of the Malfoys and this... This would break her heart. Merlin, I can't lose her over this. I–" Malfoy looked hopelessly lost as he stared at his hands.

The silence stretched between them as Harry tried to quiet his heart, beating painfully against his throat. He reached out towards Malfoy, but dropped his hand before he actually touched him.

"I don't have a mother. I never had one. Oh I wished, and wished, and wished. Some nights, when there was nothing but the spiders and the darkness, that possibility was the only thing that kept me from screaming in terror. And I found my mother when I came to the Wizarding World. I found her in all her shining, wonderful, beautiful, loving glory. But that doesn't mean that I can have her. I know she loved me. She loved me enough to die for me. And that's going to have to be enough for the rest of my life."

There was a pause as Malfoy looked up and they stared at each other. "I never had a mother, Malfoy. And I never will. So I know better than most what it is to have a hole in your chest that can never be filled, not by all the kindness in the world. I will not, and cannot ask you to choose between me and your mother. That would be no choice at all really."

Malfoy swallowed. "So, what, then? This is over?"

Harry shook his head and gave him a smile, though it trembled a little just at the corners. "I'll take what I can get. We'll have what it's possible to have - until we don't anymore."

Staring into the fire, sitting alone in the Common Room later that evening, Harry remembered that he had never had the chance to have that proper breakfast he had wanted to start his day with.

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