He swallowed the night air in huge, gulping breaths, hoping to calm himself, but to no avail. He felt dizzy, heart pounding, blood rushing into his head, and he sat down heavily on the floor, right where he was standing.

"Harry."

Harry started and almost screamed. Instead, he turned around, still sprawled on the ground, and looked up into the impassive visage of Draco, who stood, towering above his prostrate figure.

"Draco," Harry answered, voice strangled. He made a lame attempt at conversation. "How – how have you been?"

Draco gave a small, casual flick of his head, thin strands of hair melting into the moonlight that shone down upon them. "I have been well." His eyes were deep and molten and endless as they gazed into Harry's. "And how have you been faring these months?"

"I – I…" Harry couldn't speak. He couldn't. He wanted so badly to tell Draco – to tell him how he had waited and waited and waited and how Draco still hadn't come back – to tell him how he had cried endless tears, alone in bed at night, thinking of him and his kisses and his smile and his touch – to tell him how he loved him still…but no words came. No words would come.

Draco deigned to lower himself, crouching before Harry, cloak giving a dramatic flutter as it brushed and slid against Harry's hand. "I know," he said. "I read your letters."

"I – I wasn't so sure you would…" Harry looked away, suddenly abashed, and sighed lightly.

A pale, ivory hand appeared from the folds of the black, black cloak, and touched Harry's cheek with the tip of an index finger. It felt like ice, and Harry gave a minute shiver. "Only after a while," Draco admitted. "But I did."

"Oh."

"What's the matter?"

"I'm not so sure it was a good idea for me to have – to have written them, now."

"Why?"

"I…dunno." Harry shifted and pulled his hands into his lap. He glanced quickly at Draco before looking away again. "It seemed a good idea at the time, but now…"

"I thought they were lovely," Draco breathed, and Harry smiled.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really."

"You…liked them?"

"Yes." Draco's gaze was unblinking, and Harry found himself smiling stupidly at him.

Harry reached out and stroked the side of Draco's face, relishing the feel of velvet snow against his rough touch. "I've missed you."

"And I, you."

"You look tired."

"Not as tired as you."

"Well…" Harry didn't know what to say; he didn't want to make Draco guilty for leaving. "Are you…better, now?"

A pause, then, "Yes."

"Good."

"Harry…"

"Yes?" His word was a trembling whisper and Draco reached out to clasp both of Harry's hands in his smaller, daintier ones.

"I'm sorry."

It wasn't exactly what Harry had been hoping for, but it was more than enough for Draco to apologise.

"It's alright, Draco. Really. I – I know you needed it, and – and…"

Draco leaned in and brushed a kiss on Harry's cheek, barely touching his jaw line. "Thank you."

"Draco," Harry said, and reached out for him. Somehow, Draco managed to seat himself sideways perfectly in Harry's lap in a single graceful movement.

"Mind you," Draco said, "I'm only sitting like this so I won't ruin my clothes by sitting on the ground like any animal."

"That's fine," Harry smiles. It dims slightly as his arms twine themselves loosely around Draco's waist. "You've lost so much weight."

"Nervous breakdowns can do that to you," Draco said, glaring. "When I was –" He cuts himself off and his voice softens. "When I was eight, I lost almost two stone in three months."

Harry leaned his head on Draco's shoulder, breathing in his scent. "What happened when you were eight?" he asked quietly.

"That was the year…that was the year when I finally knew what the name Malfoy stood for," Draco said, and then tilted Harry's head up and kissed him barely on his lips.

Harry knew it was a direct distraction, but he didn't much care at the moment and reached up to cup Draco's cheek to stop him from turning away. He spoke, lips so close to Draco's that he could feel their softness moving on his as he spoke. "Why do you always turn from me?"

"I don't want you to know what I am," was the answer.

"But I already know." Harry tilted his lips for another brief press of lips before pulling back just the slightest. "I know you're kinder than you appear. I know you're more caring than you care to be. I know you're smarter than is possible for you to conceal. I know you're loyal almost to a fault. I know you're capable of love, because I had it once – but if there's one thing I don't know, I don't know if you're as forgiving as I wish for you to be."

Draco had looked away by the time Harry finished his little speech, and said nothing for several long moments after Harry posed his indirect question. Finally, he spoke, eyes shaded so that Harry could not read from them. "What are your plans after leaving Hogwarts?" His tone was neutral, almost carefully so, if Harry was to be judge.

"Don't try to change the subject!" He spoke more sharply than intended, and was rewarded with a heavy glare.

Draco pressed his lips together tightly before saying again, tersely, "What. Are. Your plans. After. Leaving. Hogwarts?"

Harry sighed. "I don't know. Why? What are you doing?" He had planned to stick around Draco if possible, anyway.

"University in France. In Bordeaux, to be exact. The best in the world, along with the apprenticeship college in Padua, Italy. But apprenticeship…I'd rather get my degree first." Draco shifted in Harry's lap. "The Malfoys have an estate there, you know. In Bordeaux."

"Oh."

But Draco didn't say anything else, and so Harry held him closer, relishing the feel of him after so many long months. "I'm sorry," he said.

He could tell by the tilt of Draco's head that he was confused. "For what?"

"For…" Harry's throat seized up. "For Justin."

Draco tensed, hands curling into trembling fists. "Oh," he said simply. "That was. Partly my fault." His voice shook just the tiniest bit with the force of controlling his temper.

"No," said Harry in hushed tones. "No, it was me. All me. And I never got a chance to say it, but I am. And I have to live the rest of my life knowing that I betrayed your trust and I know it might not be worth much to you now, but you have my word, Draco, you have my word that nothing of that nature will ever happen again."

Draco didn't reply, and Harry's fingers pressed nervously into Draco's waist.

The wind that blew past was cold, and Harry shivered, though Draco appeared not to have even felt it at all. "Draco?" Harry whispered, half afraid, leaning over to try and peer into Draco's face.

Draco turned his head away, and Harry felt a strange tightness in the pit of his stomach. "Draco, please, talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. Draco, you know I love you. I've done so much and we've gone through so much together, and my feelings are unchanged. I want you to…I need to know how you feel."

"How I feel?"

"…Yes." There was a certain hesitation in Harry's voice; this was a lot to ask of Draco, especially.

Draco shifted in Harry's lap, and leaned forward, resting his sharp chin on two small fists. "I feel…" Harry waited patiently, but no other words came.

"Yes?" Harry prompted.

Draco shoved him then, and stood up, walking away. Harry lay, sprawled on the ground, shocked only momentarily before hastily getting up to follow Draco deeper into the Hogwarts gardens. "Draco," he called. "Where are we going?"

Stopping suddenly, Draco turned and caught Harry before he crashed into him. There was a certain fierceness in Draco's eyes, and they gleamed at Harry under the looming shadow of the surrounding trees.

"Draco?" Harry swallowed hard, aware of how his voice had quaked. A small amount of fear rushed through him, as did excitement, borne from the silver peeking out at him from Draco's darkened irises.

"I love you, Harry."

The world around him froze at Draco's words and Harry was dizzy, everything spinning around him except for Draco – Draco, who was still, unmoving, directly before him, firm and steady and the only constant in this shifting world of his.

"Oh. Oh, Draco…" And he opened his arms wide and Draco fell into them and suddenly everything was right again, everything made sense again, everything now had a purpose that had once been lost on a cold December night. "Say it again," whispered Harry into Draco's ear. "Please, love, say it again."