It was a beautiful January morning, and while Harry would have liked nothing to do but fly on the Quidditch grounds all day or spend time with Hermione and Ron in the common room, he had double Potions with the Slytherins and was in danger of not making it to the classroom in time. As he and Ron hurried through the corridors, turning corners quick and cursing Peeves for making their route an obstacle course, a snide voice behind Harry called out to him.

"Hey, Potter! You're so ugly girls would rather kiss a toad than touch you."

Harry turned, recognizing its owner, and immediately retorted, "Coming from someone who's only been kissed by his mum, that's a bit rich, Malfoy."

Malfoy's sneer wavered, but he covered it up by making a rude gesture at him and Ron (who was standing beside Harry and responded in kind) and strutted off with Crabbe and Goyle along the same path as them, obviously late as well. Ron gazed at his receding back, and commented, "Guess he can't go to sleep at night without at least one jab at you every day."

Harry snorted. "C'mon, we're not going to make it in time if we don't run, and Snape doesn't need any more excuses to give us detention or take points from Gryffindor."

They were late nevertheless. Snape snatched the opportunity to deduct ten points apiece from their House, while letting Malfoy and his cronies slip into their seats without so much as a displeased remark. From Ron's expression, Harry thought he wanted to hex Snape into oblivion. He rather felt the same way.

They took their places beside Hermione, who had arrived well in time and ealready begun working on the potion - today, it was a simple Calming Drought; something third-year Gryffindors could surely handle without botching it up, in Snape's (dearly unwanted by said Gryffindors) opinion.

"What's the first step?" Ron asked no one in particular. Harry shrugged, extracting his book from his jumbled-up mess of a bag. Hermione heard him, and she silently pointed her wand at Ron's Potions book, which flew open to the Instructions and Ingredients page for the Drought. Grudgingly impressed, Ron said, "Let me try that on yours, Harry -"

"No, thanks, I'd rather not have it explode in my face," said Harry, hastily drawing his textbook out of range of Ron's wand, which he had brought out seconds ago. Ron sheepishly put it away.

At the end of the period, Snape inspected everyone's potions. As he came to Harry's cauldron, he remarked, "Easily the worst in the class. Five points from Gryffindor for such a poor attempt. Do take notes from Mr Malfoy's masterful potion-making skills, his is undoubtedly the best potion today." With a flick of his wand and a smug smile, he Vanished the cauldron's contents, leaving Harry fuming as he, with Ron, Hermione, and Neville, exited the class. Ron seized the opportunity to vent his anger by soundly bashing Snape and his methods as they made their way to the Great Hall for an early lunch. During a lull in Ron's rant, Harry quickly said, "I'm going to slip off to the bathroom for a bit, you guys go on without me. I'll catch up later," and did the same as Ron carried on from where he'd left off to Neville, who was eagerly listening, and Hermione, who wasn't.

He entered the nearest boys' bathroom. It was empty. He did what he had gone there for, and was washing his hands at the sink, ignoring the grime on the corners of the mirror, when Malfoy and the other two stepped in. They were loudly praising Malfoy's 'masterful potion-making skills' - which, incidentally, had led him to creating a mixture that hadn't looked anything like how the book said it should - when they stopped short upon seeing Harry's face in the mirror. Harry grimaced at the sight of the three.

"Leave," said Malfoy, gesturing to the entrance. His command was meant for Crabbe and Goyle, who left without complaint. As if they'd turn down a chance to stuff their faces earlier than usual, Harry thought. He finished rinsing and drying his hands and attempted to leave quickly, not wanting to waste time insulting Malfoy when he could be insulting Snape with Ron, when Malfoy stepped into his way with a smirk.

"I meant what I said before Potions, you know," he said casually. "Even I'd rather kiss a troll than come anywhere near you."

"That right?" replied Harry coolly. "I bet you haven't even had your first kiss. Kissing trolls would be a step up from Parkinson, though. Good on you." He made to sidestep Malfoy when all of a sudden, Malfoy came even closer to him. Harry was too startled to step back.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy -" was all Harry could get out before Malfoy leaned in and kissed him. It was just a light peck on Harry's lips, and when Malfoy withdrew, his cheeks were pink. There was a stunned silence.

"I think I have had my first kiss now, don't you?" whispered Malfoy.

What the hell was that? Harry, frozen in place by shock and disgust that Malfoy of all people kissed him and that he let him, could only watch as the other boy hurried out of the bathroom. He resolved never to tell Ron or Hermione or anyone, really, what had happened just now. He was sure Malfoy felt the same way, and his treatment of Harry and his friends wouldn't change in the slightest. He felt a flash of regret and self-hatred as he realised he gave away his first kiss to Draco Malfoy. Focus on things that actually matter, Harry told himself. Focus on how Malfoy was an utter idiot for making a mountain out of the Buckbeak molehill.

"You didn't have to blow it out of proportion, Malfoy," Harry told him one day after a particularly boring but harrowing Care of Magical Creatures lesson in which Malfoy gleefully took potshots at Hagrid's teaching skills. "You didn't have to do this."

Malfoy sneered at him. "Like I'd listen to anything you'd say," he said. "I almost lost my arm, you know. Father was clamouring for Hagrid's immediate sacking, but I convinced him to let him stay on, otherwise I'd have to look at your pathetically sad face every day - and who'd want to do that?"

"So you're saying you'd rather see me happy?" asked Harry quietly, disbelieving his ears.

Malfoy looked around. Their classmates were staring and listening to every word of this unusually civil exchange. "Of course not, I just pitied you. My father's going to get the beast executed, though. That'd break the oaf's heart even more, wouldn't it?" he said cruelly.

Harry turned away from him, suddenly sickened by the fact that he both abhorred Malfoy and felt attracted to him.

A month passed; it was February, when Harry, Hermione, and Ron, making their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts, were confronted with Malfoy again.

Harry's eyes were narrowed as he took in Malfoy's usual bratty attitude. Ron's hand was inching towards his wand, but he probably wouldn't do anything lest it backfire upon them and they get detention.

"You know, Potter," began Malfoy contemplatively. Harry was taken aback; he had expected a jibe from the outset. "I suppose you're less revolting than toads and trolls."

Harry frowned. No insult? "What are you talking about? This your idea of a compliment?"

"As if I'd ever compliment the likes of you," said Malfoy, suddenly derisive, and swept past him. Hermione frowned with Harry. "I think he was trying to compliment you, Harry. But... Malfoy?"

Harry had nothing to say in response to that. Once Ron got past the initial astonishment, he said, "I reckon someone jinxed him as a prank, and now he goes around saying halfway-nice things to all the people that hate him. Must be killing him to do it, did you see his face as he left?"

"Maybe," said Harry. He, of course, got the troll reference - which is why, later in the day, he entered the same bathroom as last time and found Malfoy waiting for him. It was empty as before. Harry really didn't understand Malfoy's strange behaviour. "What are you getting at, Malfoy? And why did you kiss me that day?" he demanded. Malfoy's expression grew disgruntled.

"Look, I have no clue why, either. I must have been stupid to do it -"

"You're stupid every day, you prat -"

"But I actually quite liked it, and was wondering," and here Malfoy's tone of voice became formal and haughty, as if emulating his father, "if I could experience it once again."

Harry peered at Malfoy, sure that the latter was out of his mind. "Have you gone mental? Have you forgotten that you hate me?"

Malfoy's face was curiously red.

"The kiss was okay, but it was... it... damn it, I liked it because of you. All right? I don't know why, I must be mental after all, to like the one time I exchanged germs with you."

Harry went red himself.

Despite all his feelings of intense discomfort, he was the one that initiated the kiss this time. It went beyond a peck (he recollected soon afterwards that saliva was involved), but was equally embarrassing. At least his cheeks weren't flaming like Malfoy's. He wanted to forget this moment and relive it at the same time. He was torn, confused. He didn't know what to do.

"Thank you," Malfoy choked out, and he left in the same manner he had last time - in a hurry. Harry wanted to hit himself. He was disgusted with himself. This was the boy who, last year, had called his best friend a slur, who had laughed cruelly with his teammates when his other best friend had started vomiting slugs. This was the boy who had no qualms about calling Hagrid an oaf and ruining things for him, who disrespected Professor Dumbledore and sucked up to Snape. How could he have done this? Shame crawled over Harry's skin.

He didn't react to any of Malfoy's taunts after that, ignoring all the troll hints and avoiding the bathroom he had done that in. He was soon going to perfect it - the ignoring act.

Fourth year, and the Triwizard Tournament began. Malfoy was 'back to normal', brandishing his horrible POTTER STINKS badges at Harry everywhere he went. Harry did really loathe Malfoy, especially after he tried to attack Harry from behind and was subsequently Transfigured into a ferret by Professor Moody. Malfoy kept his distance after that.

However, he sometimes caught himself wondering if Malfoy remembered that they kissed twice last year. He caught himself looking out for the next troll reference Malfoy would make in his daily insults, if any. Maybe he wouldn't, seeing how Harry hadn't responded at all last year, relegating him to the status of 'annoying git' in his life.

At breakfast, Harry's eyes skimmed over the latest Rita Skeeter article lambasting him, and saw Malfoy quoted as a source. He scowled.

"Like the article, Potter?" Malfoy suddenly said from behind Harry, in an attempt to startle him. He had taken the trouble of swaggering over to the Gryffindor table and actually looking over Harry's shoulder.

"I didn't know she took ferrets at their word," Harry said, quickly standing up so that Malfoy no longer looked down at him. He took a step toward him as if to physically attack Malfoy. Malfoy stepped forward, too. To an outsider, it looked as if they were staring each other down. They were both aware that teachers (and everyone else in the Great Hall) had trained their gazes on them. They had to be careful. Harry had to be careful.

"Trolls can kiss better than you," murmured Harry, so that no one but Malfoy would hear. Malfoy's eyes widened fractionally. Then a smirk formed slowly on his face; doubtless he was smug about the fact that Harry wanted him. "I'd rather be around a screaming Banshee, at night, than hear you talk," he replied.

They both turned away from each other without another word.

(Harry didn't quite understand the speed with which the word 'trolls' had become code for 'I want to kiss you'; he resigned himself to it nonetheless.)

Hermione asked him, later, as she and Harry settled into comfortable seats in the Gryffindor common room, what he had said to Malfoy that made him smile like that, complacent, self-satisfied.

"I told him he was worse than trolls," said Harry, lying by omission. Hermione remained suspicious (who would be happy at getting told something like that?), but didn't prod further, too busy with her Arithmancy essay. Harry didn't know whether he was feeling relief that she didn't pursue the topic, or remorse that he was lying to his best friend who could probably provide him the best advice he could get - and he did need advice. His instinct told him he was doing something incredibly stupid, but he couldn't stop. The urge was too great to resist.

That night, once he was sure everyone in his dormitory was asleep, he put on his Invisibility Cloak and snuck to The Bathroom. That was what he was going to call it. The Bathroom. He pulled the Cloak off once he was inside, and waited.

And waited. And waited. Hours passed. His watch, held to wand-light, told him it was one o'clock. He decided not to wait any longer. It almost felt like a betrayal, Malfoy not turning up. Not that this was any sort of commitment, of course. In his irritation (and hurt, though that latter emotion he would never admit to feeling), he didn't bother taking the Cloak back out from his pocket where he had stuffed it before leaving The Bathroom behind. He did, however, extinguish his wand and tread carefully, ensuring his footsteps were too light to be heard.

He hadn't gone too far when a hand grabbed him from behind a tapestry and pulled him into a little alcove. Harry barely saw the person's face before the tapestry fell into place again, obscuring everything.

"Lumos!"

The tip of his wand flared up, and there, not ten inches away from Harry, stood Malfoy with the most smug smile in the world.

"Couldn't stay away, could you, Potter? After all your righteousness last year, here you are, begging for the touch of my lips and willing to wait for hours for me."

Harry grimaced inwardly at those words, tucking the handle of his wand into the pocket containing the Cloak, the lit tip jutting out. Touch of my lips. No one used phrases like that, except pompous gits like Malfoy. He was also indignant that Malfoy tested him by making him wait - but that wasn't something he was going to show him.

"I'm not begging," said Harry evenly. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I'm just curious."

"And I am the only one who can satisfy this curiosity of yours?"

Harry wasn't going to submit, he was too prideful to admit out loud he wanted Malfoy. "I'm sure I can find someone else just as interested in... this... experimentation. This was fun, bye."

He made to push the tapestry outwards to leave, but all of sudden Malfoy pulled him back. "Wait!" he hissed. "I'll do it."

"Will you?" Harry said, seemingly (and in actuality) pleasantly surprised. Malfoy didn't bother answering verbally.

There was no innocence in these kisses; these were no chaste pecks. It seemed like Malfoy had brushed up on his knowledge of kissing over the summer, and perhaps in Hogwarts, too (meanwhile, Harry had remained ignorant). He had, in plain words, taken things a step further. Many steps further. Harry's glasses were getting in the way of things, as they were wont to do, and when they stopped for air he pulled them off and shoved them into another pocket.

It wasn't until Draco's mouth was on Harry's again - that his tongue was brushing against his again - that Harry realised that he had been desperate for this, for... this, and that now that he finally was kissing him again, an odd relaxation was spreading through his body, and it wasn't until Draco sighed into his mouth that Harry realised Draco had been desperate, too. Harry was not an abysmal kisser, and he felt Draco shiver every now and then (not from the cold). Then, it registered in his brain - he had begun calling Malfoy Draco. He stopped at once.

They separated for a second time. "Satisfied your curiosity yet, Potter?" asked Malfoy, trying to disguise the fact that he was breathing heavily. Trying to show he hadn't been as affected as Harry.

Harry looked at him. He looked different in wand light than he did in sunlight. As if he was a different person. Harry, with a pang of resignation, wished Malfoy had been different.

"Not really, no."

Malfoy instantly smiled.

"Nox."

It went on for at least half a year. Malfoy never amended his treatment of Harry and his friends, even as by night he slowly became Harry's... non-enemy. But leopards don't change their spots, do they?

He was somewhat sore over the fact that Ron and Hermione had become prefects and he hadn't, but more so that Malfoy had and he hadn't. That was not the reason, however, that he refused to acknowledge Malfoy in the train, not rising to any of his usual childish baits. It was a pointless exercise; he was cornered by Malfoy in the train restroom on the day the train left for Hogwarts.

"I don't particularly care to know why you're being the prat you always are; just tell me - are we going to keep this up?" he demanded of Harry, who coldly stared back at him. "Are we going to keep meeting this year to do... all that?"

"I don't know, you tell me," Harry replied icily.

Malfoy looked taken aback. "What the -"

"You support your Death Eater dad, don't you, Malfoy?" Harry asked.

There was a silence thick between them. Malfoy's face was blank, and his gaze was hard as steel as he replied, "I do what I want, Potter."

Harry said nothing for a minute; then his expression was ice as he said, "No, I'd rather spend a month in a Blast-Ended Skrewt colony than touch you again."

He hadn't really expected any other answer from Malfoy, who regarded him with the same disdain and spite as usual (but now laced with raw, venomous hate) and left without another word, uncaring that others might have seen them together. And... the time had come to tell Ron and Hermione, regardless of the outrage they would probably have.

He didn't know how to break it to them, though. He waited for them to turn up in the compartment he was sitting in with Luna Lovegood and Neville, and then went with them to find an empty one. Thankfully, they found a deserted compartment. Harry firmly slid the door closed behind him, Ron's and Hermione's eyes on him the entire time.

"What was so urgent it couldn't wait till we were in the castle -" Ron began, but Harry cut across him.

"I've been snogging Malfoy this past year." Guess he did know how to break it to them.

Ron laughed, but Hermione looked as if she had her worst fears confirmed. Ron took one look at her face and stopped laughing.

They listened silently and with trepidation as Harry told them how it had begun, and how they had been meeting in a certain alcove behind a tapestry for many months. Then, he told them of the exchange that had occurred in the train.

"But, Harry... this is... Malfoy. Malfoy!"

"I don't understand how you could have -"

"It's over," said Harry loudly to stop their dual admonishment. "It wasn't like I told him anything about Sirius or the Order, or anything personal. And good riddance, isn't it? He never stopped being an arse to all of us while he was... erm."

Hermione fixed a stony gaze upon Harry that he was consciously avoiding meeting.

They did not meet up after that; in fact, Harry did not respond to any of Malfoy's provocations, resolutely did not think about him, and started avoiding the corridor with the tapestry and the bathroom.

It was hard to think about his 'detours' with Malfoy, what with Umbridge ruining all his DADA classes and giving him bloody detentions (pun intended), and his dreams about the Department of Mysteries. At Christmas, he wanted to tell Sirius about Malfoy, he did, but he didn't want to be reprimanded. He knew he'd been really foolish and he did not want his godfather to think less of him.

He should have known Snape would find out, though. In one of his Occlumency lessons after Nagini's attack on Mr Weasley. Harry was no good at blocking him out, and Snape was treated to the memory of Draco's face right before he kissed the living daylights out of Harry.

"What is this," he said, incensed. "What have you been up to with Draco?"

"Nothing, sir," Harry muttered while desperately thinking up an excuse.

"You are far too mediocre and incompetent to fabricate memories to fool a Legilimens, Potter, don't you dare lie to me or I will secure punishment of the worst kind for you." Harry had never seen Snape this furious.

"It happened, but it also stopped," Harry ventured. Snape glared at him. Harry glared back.

Suddenly Snape shouted, "LEGILIMENS!", catching Harry unawares - all his memories of meeting Malfoy and kissing him in clandestine areas of the castle for months and months rushed forth to meet Snape's probing mind - the incident on the train - Snape receded from Harry's mind, angry beyond reason.

"You will not interact with Mr Malfoy after this day. You will not react to him, you will not go near him."

"Like I'd want to, sir," said Harry under his breath. Snape said, "You are dismissed," in the most contemptuous tone he could use, and left the room in a whirl of robes. Harry knew he had gone to find Malfoy and berate him. He reluctantly got up, not wanting to return to Gryffindor Tower and relate the events to his friends.

He wandered around the castle instead, for hours and hours (avoiding Peeves and his traps expertly). As fate would have it, he ran into Malfoy near the 'forbidden corridor', who was also strolling about alone and looked as irritated as Harry felt.

"Why'd you have to go and tell Snape?" asked Draco as soon as their eyes met. Harry grimaced. He wasn't going to answer Malfoy. He simply shrugged and turned to leave, inserting a hand inside his robes and clutching his wand in case Malfoy decided to dishonourably attack him like last year.

"Potter! Hey!" Malfoy had begun to follow him. Harry did not want to break into a run, but he did, feeling quite stupid as he started jogging away from Malfoy, who probably was laughing even then.

"Harry!"

Harry turned the corner and disappeared into a hidden niche whose existence only he (and the Weasley twins) were aware of, and waited for Malfoy to walk off in frustration before emerging. He breathed a sigh of relief -

The prat was lurking with a Disillusionment Charm on himself. Malfoy grabbed hold of him and pushed him into the very niche he had come out from, tapping himself on his head with his wand to remove the charm. "Talk to me." Malfoy gazed at Harry, (only somewhat) beseeching and cramped for space.

"Go screw yourself." Harry gazed back, coldly angry, remembering his bratty behaviour the entire year. His Weasley Is Our King song. Trying to show his all-too-real contempt for Malfoy's Inquisitorial Squad position. Trying to kill him with a single stare.

Then they were kissing. Of course they were. There was no other possible outcome in this sort of dramatic circumstance. And neither had ever listened to Snape in their lives.

One was clearly more desperate than the other. More hungry, and it wasn't Harry.

After a while, they stopped as they heard Peeves cackling and pelting Mrs Norris with Dungbombs in the corridor. Malfoy leaned against Harry, and Harry let him, feeling uncomfortable at that intimacy which was different from the one they had been sharing for so long.

"You got me banned for life from Quidditch, guess sucking up to Umbridge pays off, yeah?" he said in low tones.

Malfoy didn't reply. It was like he was two different people around Harry - the Death Eater's son in public, and this new, strange person in private.

"I've fancied you for years," said Malfoy a minute later, still leaning against Harry, as if that confession could set things right. Harry stiffened. "But I hate you, too. I hate you more than I like you. Seeing you makes me want to hex you and kiss you. I don't like saying this, but... I don't know what to do."

Harry didn't say anything, looking at the top of Malfoy's head, white-blond hair in disarray because of Harry's fingers that had pulled at it just minutes before.

Malfoy continued, "I'm aware this is going to end in a fiasco. You and I, we're on different sides, and I don't want to come over to yours."

Harry's hand rose to Malfoy's head, and his fingers began playing with the smooth white-blond strands again.

"You reckon we should enjoy this while it lasts?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, I suppose."

The next kiss was their tenderest.

Then months later, the Department of Mysteries incident happened, and Harry was directly involved in Lucius Malfoy's imprisonment in Azkaban. When Harry was confronted by Draco and his goons at school, he could clearly see hurt and fury fighting for dominance in his expression.

"You're dead, Potter," breathed Malfoy. Harry retorted with some sarcastic comment that he couldn't remember afterwards, still immersed in the grief and numbness that came of losing his godfather and the closest thing to family that he had. They exchanged a few more acerbic words and Harry walked off, conscious of Malfoy's eyes on the back of his head but not giving a damn.

Sixth year, and Malfoy's estrangement from Harry was complete and absolute. Like Harry had last year, Malfoy didn't allow himself to be provoked, he didn't react to Harry; it was as if all his enmity over the last five years had evaporated, or turned into hard apathy. So much for him fancying Harry. Yeah, right.

Malfoy did take his revenge - Harry's broken-but-fixed nose sent pangs of pain through his head occasionally, but after that, it was like Harry didn't exist, or that Harry was an insignificant side-character in his story. Harry had taken to following him around after what he had seen in Knockturn Alley.

On on such occasion, Malfoy caught him. He had known about Harry's Invisibility Cloak since the start of the year, and a simple Homenum Revelio spell, done non-verbally by Malfoy (who by then had become quite accomplished in such spells) had revealed Harry hiding under the Cloak outside the Room of Requirement, from which Malfoy had emerged.

Malfoy began to walk off as usual, trying not to reveal his knowledge of Harry's presence, but at a distance abruptly turned, pointed his wand at the spot Harry was present at, and muttered a spell. Harry's Cloak flew off him with a loud rustle to reveal Harry himself, aiming his wand at Malfoy.

"What have you been up to all year?" asked Harry levelly, not moving an inch, not expressing his surprise.

Malfoy sneered. "Because it's your business, isn't it?"

"What do you do in the Room of Requirement?"

Malfoy gave a short, cruel laugh. "What makes you so special that I'd answer you?"

"I know you had something to do with the necklace. You Imperiused Katie, didn't you?"

Malfoy's expression clouded for a second, and then he was back to sneering. "Think you're smart, do you? I didn't Imperius her, I was in detention."

"You sent the mead to Slughorn, thinking he'd package it off to Dumbledore - hey - you, you're aiming for Dumbledore!"

"Aren't we jumping to conclusions here? You'd better get going now, or I'll -"

"You'll what, kill me? You'd have done it by now."

"I'm not you, Potter. Don't forget..." Draco waved his wand patronisingly. Red sparks streaked forth from the tip, as if they were taunting Harry, too.

Harry's face flushed as he remembered the terrible curse he had used on Malfoy. His wand slipped low in his hand - Malfoy grabbed the opportunity, Disarmed him and strutted off with a shout of derisive laughter. Harry let him go, and instead left for detention with Snape, heart sinking at the prospect that they might lose the Quidditch Cup that day.

(They didn't, and Harry's kiss with Ginny almost outshone each one he had with Malfoy.)

Word travelled quickly, and soon enough, Slytherins were sneering at Harry for dating a blood traitor. He listened sportingly to each taunt, each jibe, because every barb was a reminder that he was with someone he could be free, open with.

Malfoy didn't take the time to comment on the state of Harry's relationship. Harry couldn't care less. He was happy.

With Dumbledore's death, the world shifted on its axis. Harry said goodbye to Ginny with the heaviest heart, and set out with Ron and Hermione on the journey that only he could complete.

Malfoy Manor had taken on an eerie air since Lord Voldemort had made it his headquarters. Its inhabitants had, too.

Harry had no time to observe that eeriness, what with a sharply-aimed Stinging Hex that, of course, stung, and Draco Malfoy's trembling presence in front of him, towering over his kneeling self.

"Is it him? Is it Potter?"

Malfoy's eyes locked with Harry's. Harry saw the recognition in them - of course he knew it was Harry, he'd seen those eyes up close so many times - and knew he was dead.

(Harry would never tell anyone how much he had searched for Malfoy's name in the Marauder's Map, how its absence had unnerved him. He would take that secret to the grave, and that grave seemed awfully close right then.)

Malfoy hesitated. Bellatrix snapped the question again, wand tip ready on her Dark Mark.

"I - I don't -" stuttered Malfoy in what could possibly be terror at being put on the spot like this. "I don't know. Maybe."

Harry stopped breathing in pure astonishment and shock. Malfoy stopped meeting his eyes.

Harry Potter stood over Voldemort's dead body as roars of victory, cheers of delight filled the Great Hall, witness to so many great events, this the greatest of them all.

He was smothered by the hundreds of people in the Hall who wanted to touch the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Saviour - the people who were sobbing with well-deserved relief and undeserved grief. He wanted to be with them, he wanted to celebrate with them - but he was tired. He just wanted to sleep, he just wanted to curl up and revel in the fact that he would not have to... he would not have to be the hero anymore.

With Luna's help, he slipped past the clamouring crowd and pulled on his Invisibility Cloak, intending to head to his old bed in Gryffindor Tower, when he saw Malfoy - sitting with his parents, isolated from the exuberant joy that seemed to be permeating the atmosphere.

A second chance presented itself to him. He couldn't stop himself from taking it.

He snuck over to them, careful to avoid any snags that might reveal his presence to them, and tapped Draco on the shoulder through the Cloak.

Draco jumped, but caught on quickly. He got up, murmured something to his parents, who seemed reluctant to release him from their clutches but did so anyway. He then walked off from the Great Hall, seemingly to the bathroom where it had all begun. Harry followed him, heart thrumming in his chest.

Sounds of dripping and rushing water reached Harry's ears as he entered The Bathroom after Malfoy, and he surveyed the destruction that had happened even on this floor, in this room. He pulled off the Cloak and let it fall to the ground.

"You saved my life," said Harry simply. Malfoy still refused to meet his eyes. "As you saved mine," he replied.

"It's over," said Harry, stepping over the pooled Cloak. "You can come over now, can't you? To 'my side'."

Draco laughed sourly. "Twice we'll be doing this, you know? No one is that tolerant of Death Eater families that defect twice."

"I'll protect you," Harry said, but it was clearly the wrong thing to utter - he could see the pride and anger welling up inside Malfoy. "I don't need protection. I'll live as I am, disgraced, shunned, if I have to," shouted Malfoy.

"Shut up, Malfoy, that's not what I meant -" began Harry, already exasperated, but Malfoy had already started to stride towards him, clear in his intentions - Harry felt tears on his cheeks that weren't his own, and he kissed back with vigour, trying to express his feelings in a way that didn't involve him saying them out loud.

"You saved my life," Harry whispered again. There wasn't any need to yell, seeing as how even the lightest murmur would have been heard by the boy he was addressing, he was that close - Malfoy gave a soft whimper and kissed him again, hard and deep (and filthy). Once their lips were suitably red, shiny, swollen, Malfoy broke away to say something.

"Could we -" Malfoy cleared his throat. "Could we, perhaps, start again?"

Harry doubted that they could, with the years of history and enmity and concealed attraction that they had, but he said yes anyway, just for the first real smile (even though it was small and hesitant) on Draco's face that he was seeing.

"Draco Malfoy, Slytherin," said Draco.

"Harry Potter, Gryffindor," said Harry.

Their hands clasped together, their fingers entwined, and Harry hoped with all his heart that they could carve out some sort of happy ending in the story of their lives for themselves.

(They did.)

A/N: Feels good to be writing again. Thank you for reading till the end.