Dedicated to my BFF, fellow writer kaze senju the wolfwarriorgirl who thought I should try my hand at writing slash. Plus, I recently got sucked into the SS Drarry ship and wanted do a story of them.

Five Stages of Kissing

1st Kiss: Initiation

Five year old Draco Malfoy wasn't sure what to make of the boy sitting quietly on his rug, entertaining himself with a discarded train he tossed aside last night, his stunningly-green eyes taking in all his room had to offer from the king-size poster bed Draco was lying on, his life-size figures and animals, and his chest sets overflowing with toys.

Whenever his parents had guests over at the manor, he was tasked with taking the children away to either his room or the playroom to entertain them so the adults could talk freely. In the beginning, he loved being trusted to care for the kids who came over with their parents. The job made him feel more grown-up, important. It also didn't hurt that it meant having people his own age to play with and show off his toys to. As time went on, though, the job went from being exciting to boring. The children his parents' guests brought over weren't fun anymore. None could keep his attention longer than a few seconds before they bored him completely. On top of that, they were just annoying.

Over breakfast, his mother announced they were shortly expecting guests. A James and Lily Potter with their son, Harry, who was just around his age.

"A new friend for you to make." she smiled.

A snort escaped from his father's closed lips, which turned his mother's smile into a slight frown. Draco couldn't help agreeing with him. This Harry mostly likely would be like all the others: dull and boring.

Instead Harry was something else.

One of the first thing he noticed right off the bat, other than his shoes which he had to admit were quite impressive, were his eyes. Big, bright, and incredibly green. Like a cut piece of emerald with a certain light in them that both baffled and intrigued him. Even though the boy's mother shared the same eye color with her son, Harry's just seemed…more to Draco.

Second was the look on his face when they were introduced. Harry's mother smiled, then his own mother returned the gesture, and both women pushed their sons towards each other, handling their introductions. Draco was familiar with this move: he'd stuck out his hand, wait patiently for other hand so they could shake, and take his guest up to his room. He waited patiently for Harry's hand, but the boy either didn't know the steps of their polite dance or didn't care for it. He simply just stood across from Draco and stared at him with those bright eyes of his. His eyes focused on the black wool robes the house-elves dressed him in for the day moment longer than usual, puzzled. It made Draco stood a bit taller.

Third was, well, once again his eyes. Or maybe how his eyes made up for the lack of words. Harry didn't say a word the whole way up to his room, but Draco noticed those green eyes darting from place to place, taking each portrait, chandelier, and statue they passed by, shining with admiration. The admiration grew as they stepped into his room, and Harry remained in the doorway, eyes wide. Not that Draco blamed him; the Malfoy Manor was impressive, and he took great pride in his room.

"You can look into my toy-chest if you want." Another thing to add to the list: Harry wasn't nosy. The second people came to his room, they raced over to his chests, pulling and tossing things aside like they owed it. Harry was nice enough to wait.

Harry fixed him with that odd stare like he had done downstairs, as if he was being tested. Well, he's careful, Draco thought, deciding that was impressive. To calm the boys' nerves, Draco slide off his bed and opened the chest placed in front of his bed, the biggest one he had, revealing to the curious boy all the treasures it held inside.

Convinced of his sincerity, Harry leaped from his spot and joined him. Draco was eager to show his companion what he held. Dozens of trains and figures that came to life with a touch of his hand, flying over their heads or marching around the room. Miniature figures as small as his pinky that grew tall, a few inches over his head, the moment they were set down on the floor. And the newest toy his mother got for him last week that quickly became a favorite: a five-foot long, silver and green jeweled snake made from the finest stained glass that was smooth to the touch yet entirely indestructible.

"How come he's your favorite?" Those were the first words the boy had during his visit. Draco couldn't help but smile, proud he was able to get him to talk.

"Watch." Draco set the snake on the ground and instructed Harry to stand back. "Change."

At the command, the jewels of the snake's body began to shift, arranging themselves into certain spots here and there, while the still body became to move, bending from the back and forth, until the last stone was set. Once it was done, with a sly tongue slipping from its lips, the snake went from a work of art to the actual creature.

"Cool." Harry smiled.

Draco's pride grew at the sight of the smile. He smiled back. "My parents won't let me have actually pets in the house. Mother thinks they're too messy, so she had this made for me. His name is Slyther. At the sound of my voice and my command, he changes and stays that way for however long I want."

The serpent blinked his eyes, as if he needed time to adjust, before he looked up to his two spectators. His tongue peeked from his sealed lips, followed by a sharp hiss that warned of trouble if he was disturbed.

Intrigued, Harry kneeled before the snake and held out his hand. The creature's eyes narrowed, going from the boy's face to his hand. His pet must have seen something in Harry's eyes, something good, because, unlike previous times when people have beckoned the snake only to get bitten, he came to Harry and ran his tongue over his skin. Harry giggled and rubbed the snake's head.

I like this one, master, Slyther said to Draco, his flat tone surprisingly pleasant. Good hands.

Yes, he did have good hands, as far hands went. They were pale, almost as pale as marble. He also had good eyes. And a good smile. And a good laugh. Draco liked the sound of his laughter. He wanted it to last longer. He wanted himself to be apart of that laughter.

He tried his hand at hissing. He pouted his lips, curled his tongue, and let the noise come out. It didn't sound at all like Slyther. In fact it sounded pathetic. More than pathetic. But it did cause the effort he hoped it would.

Harry laughed, far longer than he with Slyther. He hissed back at Draco, sticking his tongue out, making a sound that sounded even worse than his, but caused him to laugh.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Draco playfully hissed back. Harry hissed in return. Draco then got down on his knees, and the two found themselves engaged in a hissing contest, seeing who'd come out on top, even though they both sounded awful, and were making each other laugh with their silly faces and sounds.

Draco couldn't remember having this much fun with the other children. Then again, the other children weren't like Harry. None came close to his silliness. He looked so silly, so odd in a nice kind of way, with his tongue stuck out all the way that Draco leaned in close to get a better look at him. Then closer and closer. He didn't realize how close until his tongue was touching Harry's tongue, his lips covering Harry's lips.

Harry's body went still. The laughter came to an abrupt halt.

Uh-oh. Fear began pricking Draco's stomach as he slowly pulled back, scared of what the other boy might do or say.

The two stared at each other for what was almost forever, testing each other in a way, seeing who would make the first move, until it was finally broken by laughter. It was Harry who started it, his stilled lips quivering a bit by the corner until a smile began to grow, spreading across his face. The smile then turned to a giggle. Then another and another until the boy was a mess of giggles, falling onto his back, laughter exploding from him. Draco found himself following Harry's example, his lips quivering uncontrollably, giggles climbing their way up his throat, until finally they were set off in a loud burst of laughter.

"I think we did the serpent salute." Harry giggled, his words setting their already-loud laughter to a higher volume.

"Silly git." Draco managed to say in between giggles.

Harry laughed harder, which made him laugh twice as hard. It wasn't until a little while later that the two were finally able to control themselves and catch their breath.

"You're so weird." Draco declared.

"So are you." Harry argued, reminding them which one started the 'salute'

Draco thought it over for a moment. "Fine. We're both weird."

"And silly gits."

"That, too. But you are first," Harry giggled again, and Draco smiled. "And you're my new best friend."

2nd Kiss: Comfort

At seven Draco decided that life wasn't fair. It wasn't as wonderful or bright as the story books the house-elves used to read to him described. It wasn't even as great as he originally thought it was, going by his father's belief that life was fair to all who were born for greatness, particularly those lucky enough to be born a Malfoy. He learned life wasn't fair. It was mean. It was nasty. And it could be cruel sometimes to people, particularly those who didn't deserve such a thing.

If life was fair, then he would be allowed to eat all the sweets he wanted without being scolded for ruining his appetite or his clothes.

If life was fair, then he and Harry would have already be doing magic, casting spells from their wands, racing each other on their brooms, instead of waiting until they were older.

If life was fair, then his best friend-one of the greatest people he knew, someone life should never be awful to-wouldn't be an orphan.

It seemed like it was just yesterday he was put into bed by the elves but was too anxious to fell asleep. He kept thinking about Uncle James' promise that he would take them to his favorite shop, where they would finally get fitted for their wands. His thoughts were interrupted as a loud gasp cut through the silence like a knife, coming from down below.

It sounds like mother. Determined to get to the bottom of things, Draco snuck down to the drawing room, where his parents usually resided after dinner. He kneeled down and pressed an ear against the spell-sealed door.

Though the sound was muffled, he heard more than enough for his perspective of the just world to become undone.

James, Lily. Dead. Harry. Attacked but alive.

He-Must-Not-Be-Named, a Dark Lord whom his father have been fond of for his power and legacy, a legend he previously believed was nothing more than a folk-tale story meant to scare children, came to the Potters' home. Apparently, the Potters had something that the man wanted. They wouldn't yield and he was not one to be refused. James was a strong wizard, reliable with his wand, but he was no match for a man who had more power than a school full of wizards combined. He was slaughtered like a pig. Lily was killed instantly with a single blast that went right through her heart, onto Harry.

"He absorbed the blast, Lucius," his mother said, astonished. "The curse went right through Lily and stuck him, but he didn't fall. Then, somehow, sent a powerful hex right back to him."

For a few moments, there was silence. Draco could only picture what his father might have been doing. Staring into the fire as he thought about his response, pouring himself another drink, until he spoke at last, his voice almost as flat and low as before if Draco hadn't noticed the keen admiration that touched him.

"The boy is more powerful than we anticipated, Narissa."

It was rare when his father was surprised by something. It was even rarer to hear a compliment fell from his lips. Draco supposed he should have looked more into it, questioned it, demanded to know more about Harry's power, but he didn't. He didn't because he didn't care about that. He only cared about his best friend.

The Aurors found out about his family's close connection with the Potters and brought the boy to the manor. Draco's first instinct was to rush over to his friend and engulf him in a great hug. Two steps in, he stood frozen.

Harry didn't look that much different than he was when he left his house earlier. It would almost be as if nothing had happen at all if it wasn't for the blood smeared on his clothes (the blood of his mother, Draco thought, nausea punching him hard in the stomach), the lightening-bolt that was scarred onto his forehead, a living proof that he was nearly killed but managed to live, and the look in his eyes that drained Draco's body of warmth.

It was a look that was ran far deeper than mere grief. It was a look that similar to calmness though it was nowhere near it. It was a look that was clear as glass, the exact opposite of vengeance or hatred or anger. It was a look of utter, hollowed emptiness. Harry just looked empty. In fact, he looked worse than empty. He looked dead, as if his body managed to remain intact after the hex but his soul followed his mother to the afterlife.

He didn't utter a word as he was led into one of the guest rooms his mother set up for him. He didn't say a word when the elves rid him of his bloody clothes and washed him raw, as if the events that took place could be scrubbed away with soap and water. He didn't say a word when he was questioned by everyone: the Aurors who came to visit him, the legendary Dumbledore who wanted to see for himself how he was, his parents, or even to Draco.

His mother warned him that traumatic events held a powerful grip on people. It changed them. It broke them. It was already painful for a child to know that his parents were dead. However, it was another thing for a child to see their own mother stuck down in front of him. That was unbearable. But seeing a mother stuck down, hearing a father's pained of cries die down to silence, surviving through the very thing that killed them both? There was no word to described something so horrendous. Something so painful.

Draco kept a close eye on his friend during the funeral. Harry didn't break down once during the service, the only one sitting in the front pew while his irritating aunt and her Muggle-born clan were too scared to even come close to the caskets. He didn't break down as the caskets were lowered and he tossed dirt into both spots. He didn't break when people step forward to pay their respects or when his nasty-family came forward to speak about the arrangements of him living with them.

"Apparently this Dumbledore believes you'll be much safer with us." His aunt had said, looking like she was asked to face off the Dark Lord herself. She actually looked like she would rather do that than be Harry's guardian.

At least she attempted to look neutral about it. Her oaf of a husband's fat cheeks were colored bright red, flushed in anger. Their son, who clearly took after his father, scowled.

"He's not staying in my room." The brat shrilled. Draco clenched his fists tight, fighting off the urge not to grab the nearest wand he could reach and turn the nuisance into a mouse he'd feed to his snake.

"Of course not, sweetheart," The woman ruffled the boy's limp hair with a smile, not paying mind to her sister's motherless son who needed comfort. Comfort she was wasting on the arse. "He'll stay in the closet."

Like hell he is, Draco scowled.

The condolences and mourning continued over at the Potters' house, where his mother held the wake for the deceased. During sometime of the 'party', Harry disappeared. Draco followed him to the one place he knew where the boy went when he wanted to be alone. The tree-house he built with his father during the previous summer completely by hand, trading in wands and spells with Muggle-made tools like hammer and nails. It wasn't a speculator house. Compared to the forts and miniature houses his parents had done for him, Harry's tree-house looked too plain it was pathetic. But he knew how meant the house meant to Harry, especially now.

It was one of the few connections he had left to his father.

He found Harry huddled up, back pressed against the wall, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. His bleak eyes were fixed on the window, studying the night-sky. His eyes stayed fixed even as Draco stepped inside.

"Harry." Nothing. No response. Draco was about to call his name again until the boy slowly turned over to him, rewarding Draco with those empty eyes that pierced him.

Those eyes were as awful as ever, filled with such emptiness it was hard to look into them and not drown in the void that threatened to swallow him whole. However as awful as those eyes were, Draco discovered there was something far worse. Looking into them while streams of tears ran down Harry's face.

Each tear that fell was like a sharp punch that hit Draco in the gut.

Without hesitation Draco rushed over to his friend, pulled him against him, and held onto him for dear life, not even caring that his clothes would suffer from the tears that started off as lifeless, then grew to gushes as Harry's calm demeanor shattered into hard weeping, his small body shaking, fists clenching Draco's robes like they were his life-line. The only thing that could keep him from falling into the abyss of no return.

Draco decided right then that his mother was wrong. Time didn't comfort the wounded. It only made things worse. It made the ache more painful. Draco could only hold onto Harry tight, though he wished he could do more. But he was stuck. In his family, the best solution for tears was gifts. Whenever he cried, his mother would buy him a new toy. But he knew there was no toy amazing enough to fill in the void Harry's parents left behind.

What can I do? A memory flashed through his mind of him and Harry acting like snakes, laughing before Draco kissed him. The kiss was a surprise for them both, but it was one that Harry didn't seem to mind, laughing just the same when they pulled apart.

Draco thought it over for a second or two before he kissed Harry soundly on the lips. Just like before, Harry's body stilled from the touch. Just like before, Draco feared for his reaction, wondering if he pushed his boundaries. The first time they had done it, it was just an act from a game that went in a different direction. Now, there was no snake. This was no game. Would Harry be even more upset?

Harry's eyes were closed when Draco slowly pulled back. He took his time opening them, as if the action alone required all of his body's energy. His eyes still held tears, still were grief-stricken, but they weren't quite as broken as before.

"My parents are dead. Dumbledore said that my aunt and uncle are my only living relatives, so I have to live with them. My aunt said that just because I live with them doesn't make us family. It just means I'm an unwanted burden. I'm all alone." At the last word, the tears Harry was trying to hold broke free and ran down his cheeks. It was first set of words Harry had said in almost a month since his parents' death, and it made him cry.

Draco wanted nothing more than to grab a wand and hex the slimes into obviation for saying such a thing to his best friend. How could the ministry think that they were the best people to keep Harry safe? "I don't give an arse what Dumbledore has to say. Those Muggles couldn't protect an egg from breaking. You're my best friend. You're practically a Malfoy. You're staying with us. Father will make sure of it." He placed another gentle kiss to Harry's head, smiling down at him. "You silly git. You're never alone. You can never be when you have me."

For the first time in weeks, coming close to a month, the slightest hint of a smile curled Harry's lips. "I guess I never really thought of it like that. I guess that's why I have you, Draco."

"Yes, yes it is," Draco pulled Harry against him. Harry rested his head in the nape of Draco's neck, and Draco placed his cheek on top of his head. "That, and because I'm completely awesome."

He had no idea how much he missed hearing Harry's laughter until he was finally graced by the sound. It was soft, practically a whisper. Nevertheless it was beautiful.

3rd Kiss: Experimentation

Draco discovered, at thirteen, there was a horrible experience that went under the radar by most people, especially parents who saw it as an honorary rite of passage for their children. It was more horrible than mountains of homework professors assigned them at Hogwarts. It was something that was the type of unique evil his father personally adored and inspired to be like. It was something he thought rivaled He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in villainy.

Puberty.

He hated how he was powerless to the changes that came across his body, expanding certain things while weakening others, making everything so complicated and awkward. Including his perceptive of the world that went from easy to weird.

Such as his wandering eyes for example. During second year, he saw he wasn't the only one going through the dreaded process, taking in faces that have shaped and altered over the summer. Like the girls whom he never gave a second glance before growing into certain features, like their faces, their bodies, their curves which couldn't be shielded from their drab uniforms. That mudblood Granger who actually managed to keep his eyes on her a moment longer than necessary when he saw her slowly taking off her sweater. Pansy adjusting the length of her skirt, teasing him with a peek of her long legs. And it wasn't just girls he was noticing. There were a few blokes around school that made him stop and stare. An auburn-haired upperclassman that had a face that was as nice as his tailored clothes. The new captain of the Quidditch team who went from averagely fit to muscular. A familiar, green-eyed boy with a mop of black hair resting beside him on the beach towel that had no clue Draco had been staring at him for over two minutes.

Draco had no clue he was staring either until he heard his name being called a third time and his eyes were still glued on the boy. More precisely on the boy's pink lips. "How? What?"

Harry propped his elbows on the towel, using them to sit himself up. Concern shone in those familiar, green eyes he had always been fond of. Draco forced himself to appear calm, despite the weird sensation that stirred uneasily in his stomach as Harry's eyes narrowed a bit. "I said, are you alright? You look flustered."

The moment the word "flustered" left his best friend's fascinating lips, Draco felt the blood rushing to his face, coloring his cheeks. For the millionth time he wished his skin color wasn't so fair. "I'm fine," he said, though the words sounded weak even to his ears. He cleared his throat and pasted a smile on his face, one that became more genuine as Harry's lips curved into a smile. "Just glad that second year is over."

Harry grinned. Draco wasn't surprised. He did have a rough school year. "Me, too."

He reached over for the cooler they've brought along with them to the beach, pulling out a green apple. Draco felt his stomach drop all the way down to his feet before pushing itself back up to its' rightful place as those pink lips curved themselves around the apple, sharp teeth biting into the fruit. Pressure built down south of his body from hearing that unmistakable moan from Harry as he swallowed the bite, watching the fruit slide down his slender neck.

Good God. Draco forced himself to remain flat on the towel, as if watching Harry eat an apple didn't make his body feel so strange and jumpy. Harry took another bite of the apple and offered it to Draco.

"No thank you."

Harry seemed surprised for a moment, but shrugged and continued to eat. All while his best friend was struggling with himself, with his eyes that continued to watch Harry's lips move, his face that continued to burn against his better judgment, his body that continued to churn uneasily that strange prickling feeling.

Everything was the same between them but at the same time it wasn't. Just as Draco was going through puberty, so was Harry. The difference between the two was his observation-turning-to-obsession of Harry's sudden changes was slowly driving him insane. Harry was still his best friend. He was still the same goofy kid that Draco had been charmed by years ago. But when they've arrived at Hogwarts to begin second year and unpacked their bags in their room, Draco noticed the sudden shift in the air between them. A shift that commenced the second Harry decided to switch his school-shirt for another, and for a few moments, Draco stood there, eyes slightly wide, mouth agape, at the naked flesh and the toned muscle he could see was on its way of developing. From then now, it became a battlefield against his brain and body to remain sane whenever their hands would touch and Draco felt that pull at his stomach. Whenever they would hug and a part of him wanted the hug to last longer. Whenever their eyes would meet and that strong prick would only grow stronger.

This is ridiculous. Draco scowled. It's only hormones. Stupid, evil little buggers.

His godfather had told him the best way to overcome puberty was to yield to it. Accept it. Draco accepted the fact that there was no way out of puberty. He could even accept the possibility that he was attracted to both sexes. However, what exactly should he do about the strangeness now between him and Harry?

He stared at those pink lips, noticing how soft they appeared, the right amount of plump without looking entirely unpleasant, until an idea came to him. "Hey, Harry? Have you ever thought about experimenting?"

If Draco wasn't focused on going an answer, he could have taken a picture of how flushed Harry looked, those captivating greens widening at the question. He stopped at mid-bite, his eyes darting over to Draco. "You mean kissing?"

Draco nodded. "With both sexes."

Harry looked so adorably ridiculous with his blushing-red cheeks. Draco was pleased to see he wasn't the only flustered one. He was pleased more at the fact he was the cause behind it. "Well..sometimes."

A wave of pleasure washed over Draco. "We could do it. Right now."

"You mean with each other?"

"No, with Snape," Draco ducked away from the apple-core Harry tossed at his head. "Yes, with each other, you silly git. We're all alone. It's not like anyone will see us."

"Won't it be weird?"

Of all the Harry had to ask, that was one question Draco wasn't prepared for. Or one he expected to sting as much. "Why would it be weird?"

"Well…aren't we too close to do something like that?" At the confusion written across Draco's usually mischievous face, Harry further explained. "Well, we've been best friends for a long time. Your parents are my guardians. Your mom treats me like a second son. And people say we act more like brothers than friends."

Brothers? Draco was amazed with how a simple name could cause such a deflation in his body, an odd, almost-annoying deflation. "It's not like we're blood-related. It would only be weird if we were. Besides," he added. "Like you said, we're best friends. Who better to practice something new than with someone you already know and trust?"

"True," Harry agreed, though a bit warily. "And we have kissed before."

Twice actually, an unwanted voice chimed in that Draco would have socked if it was an actual person. "Which is why it would be perfect. Even if you do have a girly-mouth, Potter."

"Shove it, Malfoy. At least I don't carry around a pocket-mirror to check my reflection thirty times a day."

"Prat." Draco socked him in the arm. Harry laughed, returning the favor to him, and as always Draco followed his example.

Harry decided to try to satisfy curiosity. With a slight nod, he agreed and waited patiently for Draco. Draco swallowed down a nervous lump that lodged itself in his dry throat.

Come on, Malfoy, he told himself. Don't be such a puss. This was his best friend, someone he trusted above all others. Someone, his subconscious reminded him, had kissed already. Twice. So why was this time so difficult? Why was he hesitating? Why, for the love of Merlin, couldn't he move already and put an end to his annoying hormones instead of thinking about this?

Goddamn puberty! They made things difficult. They made no sense. They-

Draco's stream of thoughts came to a halt as Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips against his.

Great. Merlin.

Draco closed his wide eyes, lulled by the familiar sensation that flooded through their joint lips, spreading throughout their bodies, wrapping around them protectively like a warm cocoon. Just as he suspected, Harry's lips were still soft. Incredibly soft. Warm, too, like a nice cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, a piece of candy melting at the tongue. For a few moments, the two friends stayed like this, upper-bare bodies pressed close together, lips entwined, sharing breath with another as they took their time with the kiss. Taking their time, as to familiarize themselves with the taste that felt entirely and painstakingly new, despite the fact this wasn't the first time they were in this position.

A noise, a moan of all things, broke through the silence. Where it came from, Draco had no idea. It could have came from either one of them, or maybe they moaned at the same time. It didn't matter. It wasn't important. Nothing was more important than this moment, this feeling, this warmth-

Warmth that quickly exploded into flames as Harry's tongue slipped through his mouth and brushed against his tongue, igniting a fire that traveled down to Draco's center, a feeling that was too much for him to handle.

With a gasp, Draco pulled back, mouth taking in needed gulps of air, mind spinning from what had just happened.

He certainly didn't remember anything like that when they were younger.

"Well," Harry said after a painfully long minute passed between them, the taint of awkwardness looming over them. "That was interesting."

Unable to trust his loose, burnt tongue from slipping, Draco nodded.

It took almost five whole seconds for Harry to look at him. His cheeks were two bright splotches of red. As bad was it, Draco was happy to see he wasn't the only one suffering. "So…"

"Yea…"

The looming awkwardness grew while the silence lengthen, stretching from seconds into minutes. Draco didn't remember anything closed to that when they were younger. Back then, after they've kissed, they would stare at each other for a moment or two before they laugh and continue to where they left off. Now, it was hard to look each other in the eye without their faces turning hot.

Draco wondered if Harry was right. Maybe it wasn't a good idea for them to try it. After all, when they were kids, they didn't realize what they were doing. To them, it was just another thing for them to do. Now evil puberty came by and made one more thing complicated.

"For what it's worth," Harry said, breaking the silence. "You…did good."

"Thank you," Draco nodded stiffly. "You, too."

"And it could have been worse."

Draco arched an confused brow. "How so?"

"Well, for one, you could have snogged Ron."

WHAT? Ron? Ron as in Ronald Weasley?

Stunned, Draco met his friend's eye, watching the glimmer of mischief dance across those emerald greens, his shock morphing to murderous anger. Harry saw the emotions shift in his eyes and wisely used the time to rise from his spot and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

Unfortunately for Harry, Draco was the faster runner. "You better run, Potter, because I'm going to kill you when I get my hands on you."

Harry's laughter tore through the air, and, Draco, despite his anger at the joke and the image that joke caused, smiled.

4th Kiss: Revelation

At sixteen, Draco discovered there were many forms to evil. There was evil to the purest form that was the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. There was evil that was on the verge of absolute cruelty like his father. There was evil that appeared cold but held something deep underneath like his godfather who wasn't as cruel as people believed. There was annoyingly evil, like the Weasley-clan he wanted to hex everytime he came across one. Then there was a special type of evil that turned something once good and unbreakable into a complete, utter mess.

There was only one type of evil like that, and that would be sixth year.

The two best friends who were once practically attached to the hip now could barely look at each other without sneering or insulting the other with jabs that were often too close to home.

Draco recalled what happened this evening when he entered the library to meet a study group, his eyes catching a familiar face sitting among the Gryffindors and had his shoulder occupied by the she-Weasel. Unable to help himself, he strode over to the table, ignoring the glares fired at him, smirking at narrowed green eyes. He slipped in a few sly comments about Harry's clumsy flying, Harry shot back with a few snarks about him being a mindless puppet, and then things got ugly from there.

"What's the matter, Potter?" he demanded, watching his friend raise from the table and gather his things. "Can't keep up?"

"Some of us have better things to do than stand around and act like children, Malfoy." Harry answered without looking at him.

"You should take his advice, Draco." The damned, know-it-all Granger said.

"Shut it, mudblood!"

"You shut it, Malfoy," the head of the Weasley clan, Ron Weasley, scowled. "No one told you to come over."

He paid no attention on them. He focused on Harry who gathered his books and was headed for the door. The next words that fell through his lips could only be blamed on frustration and anger. "Walking away, I see? Is that how you plan on defeating the Dark Lord? Cowering? That was your parents' plan and that clearly didn't end well now, did it?"

Everything from the hushed whispers, book pages flipping, to laughter fell into quick, dead silence. Eyes widened, mouths dropped. The silence was so still, Draco heard a pen fell onto the ground that was almost as loud as thunder.

He knew he went too far. The moment the words were released, he knew he pushed it too far.

His thoughts were confirmed as Harry took his time to look over at him, piercing Draco with a chilled look that was colder than ice, darker than his father's malicious nature, filled with undeniably burning rage that was barely compressed.

"Go. To. Hell." Harry spoke each word lowly, his soft tone laced with venom that was sharp as knives, before he walked out of the library, slamming the door behind him.

Draco could feel all eyes on him, could hear the whispers, but he paid no mind. He stared blankly at the door in front him, frozen to where he stood. The child he once was that was buried deep within wanted to go after Harry, to explain himself, to take back what he said. Draco nearly complied, ready to take that first step, until a person who was on the very top of his hit-list leaped from her seat.

"Harry, wait!" Draco couldn't remember hating a person as much as he did Ginny Weasley, his eyes shriveling at the sound of her voice, as she ran after Harry.

His Harry.

"I always knew you were an ass, Malfoy, but I didn't think you were that much of a bast-"

"Finish that sentence and I'll deliver your severed tongue to your mother as a Christmas present, Weasley."

Later on that night as he prepared for bed, Draco cast a glance at the empty bed that to the right of his, noticing the lack of body and trying hard not to think about what that certain body was doing. Or who that certain body was with.

His clever mind that could be a wicked villain as well as an reliable ally painted an picture for him. Of Harry hidden behind the tall shelves in the library with Ginny fucking Weasley by his side, holding hands. Harry gave her Draco's favorite smile, the one where his eyes glowed with the same brightness that curled his lips. The wench blushed a bright shade of red, brushing back her dull hair. Smiling at one another, they leaned in closer, eyes closing, lips parting-

FUCK! Disgust held a tight grip on him, nearly causing to gag on his own breath as the vile image flashed across his mind.

Damn that wench. Damn her brother, too, along with that mudblood, for stealing what was his. Damn his father. Damn Voldemort. Damn Potter for being a prat. Damn himself for being so confused and angry and disgusted and scared and-

Damnit.

Draco sighed heavily, letting his body fall onto the bed, eyes staring up at the ceiling.

It was a shock for the whole school when they saw the Malfoy-Potter team wasn't close as they once were, including the teachers. It was a shock that left many dumbfounded and that sparked thousands of rumors about the estrangement.

There were many reasons, the future being one of them. Harry being pulled by Dumbledore into the side of good while Draco was being pulled by his father into the side of darkness. Both boys being forged as weapons for a war where they would soon be apart of, fighting opposite sides. His father was also tied to that reason, and became a new reason completely on his own. He stunned the world as he came forward as one of Voldemort's followers, declaring that the Dark Lord would cast the world in eternal darkness and he would play his role in it. Despite the rumors of horror that fell to followers who didn't satisfy the master, despite what Voldemort had done to the world, despite what he had done to Harry. It didn't matter to him. He swore his loyalty to his dark master and expected his son to follow in his footsteps.

"You are a Malfoy. This is your destiny, your birthright. No friend is worth your family or glory."

The weasel and Granger were another reason. Despite his wishes, Harry didn't stick to one particular group. Instead of keeping relations tied strictly to Slytherin, he branched out to to the other houses, including Gryffindor, where he made friends with the two most annoying people Draco had ever met. The three, to his displeasure, became close and formed their own, odd group, one which Draco didn't want to and couldn't be apart of. He hated sharing his best friend, and hated it even more it had to be with the two people who were thorns to his side. When the news of his father broke out, Granger had the nerve to go right to Dumbledore and said, for the sake of his safety, Harry should be moved from Slytherin and into their house. Weasley took it a step further, saying his dear mother would be more than happy to become Harry's new guardian.

However Draco knew the actual reason for the estrangement. Perhaps not the actual reason, considering there was more than just one, but the main cause. The crack that broke the mother's back, as the muggles would say. It had nothing to do with his father or Voldemort, that daft Dumbledore, the Malfoy legacy, Harry's destiny, or his new friends. It had to do with a certain Weasley, one he wanted to strangle everytime he heard her voice.

Draco was aware that the little Weasley girl was infatuated with his best friend. It was irritating to see, even harder to digest when she slide her way into their group, but Draco learned to tolerate it if not barely for Harry's sake. His tolerance, though, shot right down towards the end of fifth year, around the time the friendship began to unravel, when a certain rumor caught his ear.

The little girl kissed his best friend. In one of the private closets couples went to when their rooms were too far away. Sparking rumors that more than just kissing went on when the two emerged from the closet faces flushed, lips swollen, clothes rumpled.

It took every ounce of self-control Draco had in his body not to give into the dark temptation of letting his magic destroy everything within sight.

Damn it! Draco channeled all his anger into his foot he used to swing against the wall. A move he immediately regretted as pain flared from his toes.

Damn. It.

He knew where he was the moment he opened his eyes, the chandeliers shining light on the dark room, books clouding his vision. The school's library. But what was he doing here? Of all the places his subconscious could bring him to, it had to be at the school? And worse, a place at school where he practically crowned himself as king of all things despicable?

"Took you long enough."

He froze at the sound of the voice. It couldn't be. It would only be cruel if it was.

He turned around, to see Harry smiling at him with ease, as if the past school year hadn't existed, green eyes gleaming. Draco's heart nearly melted at the sight.

"I've been waiting for you."

Against his better judgment that warned him to be cautious, Draco could feel his lips lifting into the beginning of a smile. A smile that shattered like glass as the she-Weasel appeared from the corner of the bookshelves, cutting Draco off as she walked into Harry's open arms, nestling her head into the nape of Harry's neck.

"I'm so sorry. Let me make it up to you."

Draco had been through terrifying experiences and seen vile things that scarred his mind. Like meeting Voldemort for only a second and feeling so blackness pooling from his body, threatening to consume him. Watching mudbloods being tortured and hearing their screams long after they've died. Holding Harry in his arms while he cried for his parents and everything he lost, wanting nothing more than to take away the pain. Hearing about that infuriating rumor from fifth year that started the distance between them with no denial to it. But none were nowhere near close to the pure agony that punched a gaping hole right through his heart, causing it to bleed every so slowly as he watched Harry smiled his dazzling smile before he pulled Ginny into a kiss. A kiss that was long, deep, and too painful to watch and even harder to look away from.

Hot, enraged tears blurred Draco's eyes. Bile filled his stomach, traveling upstream to his throat.

Through the pain that clawed his heart, spreading through his body like poison, he could feel a storm raging inside. Emotions that raged and rumbled the first time he heard about the rumor: pure anger that he was witnessing this moment, disgusted that it was happening, fear that Harry was lost to him, jealously that was as green as Harry's eyes. Jealously that was hot as his anger, tightly-coiled like his disgust and fear, almost as if not more stronger than the pain that stuck him.

Because…because….Harry wasn't Ginny's. Never was. Never could be. Never will be. He belonged to Draco. He belonged to Draco the moment the two tried to intimate his pet snake and done the serpent salute. When Harry was so small and hopeless in his arms, crying, and Draco wanted to protect him from the cruel world. Harry was his to hold. His to have. His to kiss. His to love.

Draco lifted his head up, fists clenched, ready to push the wench out of the way. To stop this ridiculous feud. To stop being a coward. To tell Harry what he should have said years ago.

In the next moment, he discovered something that was ten times more horrible than watching Harry entangled in the she-Weasel. It was hearing that sharp intake of breath ripping through the air and the sound of flesh being tore open as Ginny's hand clawed through Harry's chest, encircling her fist around his heart.

Draco's natural instinct was to move. He wanted to scream for help. He wanted to do something. Anything other than stand still like a helpless child, bearing witness to this horror.

As if she could sense his fear, Ginny turned over to him, dark eyes glinting in dark delight, her lips curling into the type of cruel smile that looked unnatural with her features and put his aunt's crazed smiles to shame.

"It doesn't matter how it ends. It could be by Bellatrix. It could be your father. It could even be you, if I do so wish. It matters not. The boy will die."

"Voldemort." he said the name in one breath.

The imposter wearing Ginny's face grinned before she tore Harry's heart clean from his chest.

"HARRY!" The pieces of his shattered heart that have yet to recover from the kiss plunged straight to the bottom, dropping almost as heavily as Harry's body did as it hit the ground.

Draco gathered his friend in his arms, his stomach churning from the amount of blood gushing from his chest, his mind panicking at the body temperature that was quickly dropping. "You're going to be alright. You're going to be alright. You hear me. You're going to be alright."

Harry choked on his blood, which was leaking from his mouth. "Dr…Dra…co."

"You're not dying. You're not dying. You can't. I won't let you."

Harry's lips tried their hand at a smile, one that was soft, tentative, and looked too similar to the first smile he had given Draco when they were children. "I…love…"

Draco's entire world collapsed before him as he watched the light that was Harry, his Harry, his best friend, the boy he had known since he was five, the person he loved more anything in the world, fade from his beautiful eyes.

No. He shook his head slowly, his vision blurring by the flood of tears burning his eyes, feeling grief wound itself around his body, moving in closer and closer. No. He wasn't-He couldn't.

The lack of pulse confirmed his fear.

No. Tears streamed down his cheeks, falling onto Harry's cold corpse.

"HARRY!"

Draco woke with a start, eyes popping wide, heart pounding against his chest, and gasped.

Without a moment's delay, he jumped off from bed and raced over to the one across from him, straddling the person's waist and shaking him into consciousness. "Wake up! Wake up! Waaaaaaaake up, you goddamn fucking prat!"

"What? Who? Where?" Harry bolted upright, sleep-dazed eyes darting around like he expected a monster to appear from the shadows. "What's wrong? Where's the fire?"

His tired panic settled when he realized he was wasn't in danger, except for maybe the boy who was making himself at home on his waist. Those bright, beautifully-alive emeralds glowed in anger, which Draco was never more relieved to see.

"Draco," Harry sighed his name angrily, running a hand through his face. "Whatever it is I did or said, or whatever useless score you want to settle, we can deal with it later. It is three o'clock in the fucking-"

Draco didn't give him the chance to finish. He seized Harry's face in his hands and kissed him with everything he had, unleashing all the frustration and anger and desire along with feelings he would never admit to into the kiss. Pouring everything he had into it while saying everything he'd never have the courage to say. The sparks that he recalled from the last time they've kissed came alive again, exploding into passionate flames that once terrified him but now he embraced, allowing himself to be eaten alive by the fire. He clutched to his best friend, as if he was his lifeline, the oxygen he needed to breathe, the food he needed to consume to live.

The need for breath became too great for Draco to ignore, feeling his lungs burning underneath, so he snuck in one more kiss before he pulled back.

"Morning." Harry finished lamely, half-dazed from sleep, stunned from the kiss.

Before his courage could fail him, before reality set, Draco knew he needed to act. Now. "I love you. I've always loved you. And it took me forever and a horrible nightmare that I never want to relive again for me to realize that. I've always been in love with you. Not in a way that brother feels for a brother, which by the way is a word I absolutely despise because you're more than just a brother to me. I love you more than a friend. I've loved you from the moment from I met you. I wanted nothing more than to see you laugh, and then wanted to be one who would always have you laughing. I love you so much that I didn't want to share you with anyone else, especially with Weasley and Granger. I love you so much that I couldn't stand looking at you when I heard about you and Ginny kissing and you looking happy afterward because it hurt too fucking much. I don't care about what my father wants or the damn Malfoy legacy. I'll turn against him. I'll be by your side. I care about you and only you. I never want to be apart from you. Never again. I know things have been complete shit between us because I've been a bastard, but I want to start over. And start over right. And-Goddamn it, Potter, the least you can do is anything other than gawking at me like I'm an bloody idiot. I know I'm making no sense. I know it's too early for this shit and I'm rambling like an idiot, but if you don't say something in the next five seconds I'm going to-"

Harry's hand settled on the back of Draco's neck, at the very spot where his pulse nearly exploded from the touch. He used that hand to guide Draco back into him, into his lips that put his shattered, troubled mind to ease. Warmth pooled his body as their lips engaged in a familiar dance, brushing against each other, running over and through each other, teasing each other with peeks of tongue. By the time they pulled apart, Draco could barely remember his name, much less what had him so upset.

"If I may, I would like to say three things," Harry waited until Draco nodded before he spoke again. "First off, nothing happened with Ginny. Yes, she tried to kiss me. Well, to be honest, she actually succeeded and wanted to go further. But I stopped her because I knew it wouldn't be fair to either of us. I didn't see her that way and she needed to know that there are others boys who would be right for her. That's why we're close now. That and I helped her get a new boyfriend."

Draco took in a deep breath, practically in tears, as a heavy burden was lifted off his shoulders.

"Second. Draco Malfoy, you are without a doubt the most infuriating, thick-headed, pain-in-the-butt prat to ever live."

Harry quickly covered Draco's mouth before he could talk, already feeling the defenses and insults rolling off his tongue. He smiled at the dark glare Draco shot him. "Ah, ah, ah. It's my turn to talk."

Draco glared at him with all his might.

"As I was saying, you are a complete prat, which brings me to three," Harry said. "You are an infuriating prat who really knows how to get my nerves and makes me want to pull my hair out. But," His tone softened as a small smile appeared by the left corner of his lips. "you're also an infuriating prat that I love more than anything or anyone else in the world."

Sure that he wouldn't have his head bitten off or have more dagger-sharpened words flung at him, Harry removed his hand from Draco's mouth but didn't pull away from him. He used that hand to cup his face, brushing against his smooth cheek, feeling the tear that rolled down his face.

"Really?" Draco looked less like the bastard who had become his enemy this school year and more like the innocent child that Harry remembered as his best friend.

"Really." He nodded.

When their lips came together for the third time that night, the two didn't just stop at kissing. They took it a step further, lips clashing, mouths bruising, as they rid each other of their clothes and used the night as well as their bodies to make up for lost time.

5th Kiss: Completion

Draco adjusted himself on their black leather couch until he was more comfortable. He took a sip of the peppermint-flavored ice tea, one of the few drinks his doctor would allow him to drink, he had one of the house elves prepare for him. One look into the eyes of his husband of five years, and twenty-three year old did little to resist rolling his eyes.

"No." He said calmly, taking another sip of his drink.

Harry's lips fell into a pout, one which he could see was all for show. "I think Juliet would be a brilliant name. It's lovely. And famous."

"Infamous, you mean," Draco's lips curled as he corrected his lover. "I will not have our daughter named after a love-sick, desperate girl who died in the end because of her husband's vast stupidity."

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. Draco propped his aching feet onto his husband's lap. "Okay, then. Juliet is out. What about Isabella? Bella for short. It could be her nickname. It does mean beautiful in Italian. And she will no doubt be a beauty, given your genes."

Draco, despite himself, flushed with pleasure from the compliment. Even after years of being together, things like that still got to him. Too bad for Harry, though, they didn't sway his mind as easily. "Of course she'll be beautiful. With us as her parents, it's only inevitable. But I refuse to have my daughter share a name with an annoying character who did nothing but wheeze like she's about to have a heart attack, mope around like her life would end all because of her birthday, and constantly throws herself into danger to keep her pathetic, melodramatic boyfriend around."

He felt a slight nudge at his stomach and smiled. He placed a hand over his stomach, over their child, feeling her respond her to his touch. "It seems like she agrees with me."

"I'm really regretting showing you things from the Muggle-world."

Draco shrugged. "I disagree. I think it was very useful. If you hadn't forced me to read those so-called classics from the Muggle-world, then I might have actually said yes to the names."

Harry stuck out his pink tongue, looking very much like the five-year old boy Draco had fallen in love with. "What do you suggest then, great prat one?"

Taking another sip of his tea, Draco ran a list of names that he liked through his head. "Lily. I do believe that name would be more than sufficient. It's lovely. It's simple. And she'll be named after a remarkable woman."

Joy broke across his husband's face, eyes filled with so much love and happiness it was breathtaking. "Truly?"

Draco shrugged easily, even though he was smiling himself. "I think it would be good for our future to be connected to the past," He felt her stirring within, and grabbed Harry's hand, placing it over his stomach. "Feel that? I think she agrees with me."

"Lily," Harry breathed, his eyes bright with tears he kept in. Draco wasn't sure if it was because he could never get tired of feeling the baby kick, their daughter would bear his mother's name, or maybe both. "Lily Aurora Malfoy-Potter."

Draco nodded. Harry kissed his heavily-pregnant stomach, the desire and love still intact even though he gained more than twenty pounds over the past seven months. Draco ran a hand through his messy black hair. "I like it."

"I love it. As much as I love you." Harry dropped one more time to his stomach before he crawled his way up to Draco's lips, setting off the familiar warmth that never failed to ignited.

"Silly git. You've haven't changed one bit over the years." As he pulled his husband in for another kiss, Draco was glad that while some things changed, others like the ones that were most important stayed the same.