Some Perfect World

Harry woke early in the morning as the darkness was beginning to fade into light. He parted his curtains and peered toward Ron's bed. It was empty and undisturbed.

He scowled, hating that he was fighting with Ron. It had been going on so long that he'd lost track of whose fault it was, and he hated that even more. He hated knowing that it might be in his power to fix everything, only he wasn't sure how to start.

Harry's stomach kept twisting itself into several different awkward little shapes. He couldn't quite swallow the fact that his best mate hadn't told him immediately when he'd slept with Hermione for the first time. Harry had always assumed he'd be the first one to hear, that there would be some excited, hushed confession and he would take the piss and cheer for Ron through it all. Instead, he had missed it over his need to be close to Draco.

Harry stretched and yawned, still staring at the empty bed. After the night he'd had, Harry hadn't expected to sleep much; what he hadn't predicted were the images that would haunt him as he tossed and turned. He'd expected to see Draco's wounded eyes swimming before him, vulnerable and scared and entirely too close. Instead, as Harry lay awake, alone and confused and frustrated, his mind insisted on conjuring up vivid flashes of what might simultaneously be taking place in Hermione's bedchamber.

Now that the room was starting to brighten, Harry knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep, so he gathered his toothbrush and towel and went to the bath. He washed and dressed, and descended the stairs to the Common Room, which would be deserted at this hour. If he couldn't get some rest, perhaps Harry could at least find some peace.

It wasn't long before Ron turned up. Harry watched his best mate as he snuck out of Hermione's room. His hair was thoroughly mussed and falling into his eyes, which blinked sleepily. His t-shirt hung unevenly, exposing the edge of a dark red lovebite near his collarbone. His whole demeanour was relaxed and comfortable, but careful, and he moved with a strong, long-legged grace that Harry had never seen before.

Ron was about to start climbing toward the boys' dormitories when Harry whispered his name. In the stillness, the one quiet syllable echoed like a shout.

Ron halted in his tracks, eyes widened at being caught out. When he saw it was only Harry who'd caught him, he quickly broke into a smile and joined him in the best chairs by the fire.

"Alright, Harry?"

"Yeah. What about you? Get any sleep?" Harry tried out the eyebrow waggle that had annoyed him so much when Ron had done it a few weeks earlier.

Ron blushed, but grinned. "Not much." He looked so pleased with himself, Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"So," said Harry; it was a bit of an accusation, a bit of a commendation, a bit of a question, a bit of a response.

Ron nodded, turning redder and smiling more widely.

"Since when?"

"It's ..." Ron rolled his eyes skyward, as though counting in his head. "Three weeks now. Will be, tonight."

"Wow." Harry counted back quickly to land on the very day he'd come out to everyone. It seemed like a lifetime. "And ..."

He wanted to ask more: how it had happened, whether they'd planned it, how it had gone, and a pile of other inappropriately curious questions. He and Ron could talk about anything, but despite Harry's assumptions of how this moment might go, he realised they really couldn't quite talk about this.

Harry was about to give it up and change the subject when Ron grinned and gave him half a gentle shove to the shoulder. "It's brilliant, of course," he answered without needing the question to be articulated. His expression changed to something slightly awestruck. "Hermione's - well, she's amazing."

Harry smiled, settling back into his chair, giving Ron time to enjoy his very recent memories. Harry knew he'd probably heard all he would, but the moment was so comforting, in contrast with all the rows they'd had lately, that he couldn't be bothered to move. While he sat there in silence, Harry's mind called up the memory of Hermione's confession that she'd had prior experience, and her promise that she would tell Ron. It made him curious as to whether she had.

Ron was staring into the fire, his hair glowing with reflected light from the flames. His silence matched Harry's for a long time. Harry was almost dozing off when Ron suddenly spoke.

"I wasn't her first, you know?"

Harry tried to hide the small start he'd given at being awakened from his almost-slumber. He followed Ron's eyes into the fire.

It didn't even occur to him to hide the truth.

"Yeah, Ron, I know. She told me, the afternoon I came out to her."

Ron looked up, surprised. "Really?"

Harry nodded.

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I knew she wanted to tell you herself. That's what she said."

Ron looked away, back to the flickering flames. "How come she told you?" he asked quietly, with only a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

Harry touched his hand. "She was worried about me. Didn't want me to make any mistakes, like she felt she did. It came up, is all." Ron had slowly met his eyes as he talked. "But you're alright with it - with not being her first?"

Ron shrugged. A wry smile grew slowly on his face. "You know what's funny? It's better than alright," he answered. "I mean, I was disappointed at first, only because I'd always thought I would be, but..."

When Ron stayed silent for a long moment, Harry couldn't keep his patience. "But what? Go on," he wheedled.

Ron's face cracked into the widest grin yet. "Let's just say it's good to have someone in the room who knows something about what to do." He chuckled. "It's a bit odd, like she's tutoring me - you know, the way she helps us with homework - but I'm having too much fun to be bothered by it."

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Right. Sorry I asked." He leaned back in his chair and nudged Ron's knee with his foot. "It's good though, yeah? To see you so happy, I mean."

Ron grabbed Harry's foot and gave it sort of a squeeze and a shake before dropping it. "Thanks, mate."

They smiled at each other for a moment, and Harry felt himself breathe easily for the first time in weeks.

"Go get a little sleep, Head Boy," he told him at last. "You've got a couple of hours yet before everyone leaves for Hogsmeade."

Ron pushed himself to his feet and started toward the staircase. Before he began to climb, he turned back. "You going to come along with Hermione and me?"

"You two don't want to go alone?"

"Without you?" Ron looked incredulous. "Are you joking?"

Harry beamed at him and settled into a very comfortable position in his chair as his eyes followed Ron up the steps.

***

"Honestly, I think you two buy more at Honeydukes as seventh-years than you ever did when we were younger." Hermione stared her boys directly in the eyes as she spoke. It helped that she was currently hovering at Ron's eye-level, thanks to the effects of the Fizzing Whizbees she was eating.

"Ugh, Hermione, how can you eat those things?" asked Harry, cringing. "They have billywig bits in them!"

"Mmm!" sighed Hermione exaggeratedly, waving the sweets in front of Harry's face.

While Harry shuddered, Ron grinned playfully and swooped Hermione into his arms before she could land again. Hermione giggled and slung an arm about his shoulders.

Harry rolled his eyes at them, but matched Ron's expression. Deep down, he knew he could withstand seven more Dark Lords if he knew that, after the conflict, he would still get to see Ron and Hermione this happy and in love with one another.

"Hey, Harry, catch!" Ron made a half-turn to face Harry, and bounced Hermione into Harry's arms. Hermione laughed and locked her arms around Harry's neck, holding herself up. At eighteen years old, Hermione was no longer a seven-stone child, and Harry, who was four inches shorter and not at all as muscular as Ron, nearly buckled under her weight.

"Urh!" grunted Harry, struggling not to drop her. "A little help here, Ron?"

"Levitare," spoke Ron and flicked his wand, adding, "weakling," not-so-under his breath. Hermione suddenly felt no heavier than her bookbag, which was still a considerable weight, but far more manageable than that of a fully-grown witch. If Hermione had had a free hand to cast it herself, of course, Harry knew she would have ended up as light as a pillow.

Hermione's face was rosy from laughter as Harry set her down gently, but Ron's had suddenly darkened. Harry followed his gaze to a small crowd of sixth- and seventh-year Slytherins. Draco was with them, and for the first time in months, seemed to be the center of the group. The erstwhile leader was once again holding court.

Something in the center of Harry's chest floated up and forward, buoyed by the simple happiness in Draco's expression. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Draco in his element, surrounded by the members of his own House, and felt the intrinsic irony of his relief at seeing him there now. It gave him a little twinge to remember that he, himself, would never be welcome in that group, but Harry was glad to see Draco being accepted again.

Draco looked over at that moment, catching Harry's eye. The laughter in his face darkened into unease as he watched Harry watching him. Tension left over from the previous evening hovered between them in the warm spring air.

The buoyant thing in Harry's chest froze in place, and he had to force his head to nod in greeting. Across the street, Draco's silver eyes were barely pinpoints, but their expression was unmistakably unyielding.

A warm breath of air crossed the back of Harry's neck, then skipped across the street to unseat a single strand of Draco's fringe. The sunlight shifted with the few cottony clouds in the sky for the few seconds that Harry watched the single, errant hair play over Draco's forehead.

Finally, Draco smoothed his fingertips across his fringe, masking a return shrug of acknowledgment.

It was only when Harry released his breath that he remembered the other dozen eyes that were watching their exchange.

"Look, Harry," began Ron through gritted teeth, "if you'd rather be with him -"

"If I wanted that, I'd be there," interrupted Harry, without breaking eye-contact with Draco.

One of Draco's friends made a joke, drawing Draco's attention away from Harry. The Slytherins all laughed together, then moved away down the street.

Harry looked at Ron now. It was hard to believe that they had barely been speaking, only a week earlier. He was curious where things really stood with Draco, but there was no question as to his priorities at this moment.

"What I want is to be with you two," he told Ron, then smirked amicably at Hermione. "Until you tell me to shove off so you can have some time alone."

Ron laughed and chucked him on the shoulder. Hermione linked an arm with each of the boys as the three of them continued down the main street toward Zonko's.

Suddenly the trio collided violently, almost knocking each other to the ground. Startled, Harry looked to Hermione, who appeared jostled and annoyed and was rubbing her nose while glaring at Ron. Oblivious, Ron was standing stock-still and staring down a little side-street.

With a wave of nearly-forgotten dread, Harry recognised it as the street where Madam Puddifoot's could be found. He dearly hoped, someday, to be able to put that place out of his mind for good. The humiliation of his first - and only - date with Cho was a memory that Harry would love to Obliviate from his mind, if only he weren't so wary of Memory Charms.

Ron's look of shocked dismay was tinged with bubbling mirth. Harry couldn't understand what in the world had caught his attention, until he spotted a giggling couple stumbling out of the doorway of the teashop.

"It can't be. It sodding well can't be."

Ron continued to gape as Hermione and Harry joined him in staring toward the happy pair who had come into view. The two blissful students were smiling and kissing each other, too occupied to notice their observers.

"How long do you suppose that's been going on?" asked Harry of no one in particular.

"A few weeks, I think," answered Hermione from between him and Ron.

Ron and Harry both goggled at her.

"How do you always know everything?" spluttered Ron, while Hermione smiled one of her smug, smartest-witch-in-her-generation smiles.

"It's the 'lady-doth-protest-too-much' syndrome, isn't it?" she responded. "Notice how he was always telling stories to cut down the other girls in her House and year, but never about her?"

Harry thought back. He remembered the morning before the kiss with Draco, a story at breakfast about Pansy and a Cheering Charm gone wrong. Then the following evening at dinner, the tale of poor Morag and her allergy to Murtlaps.

"Who would've thought it, Harry?" commented Ron. "Turns out you're not the only one who thinks that Bulstrode might have some redeeming qualities."

Poor Seamus, thought Harry. The winding-up he would get in the dormitory that evening would be merciless.

A selfish little corner of Harry's mind came over all optimistic, at the same time. If a Gryffindor seventh-year were going out with a Slytherin seventh-year, Harry supposed, then perhaps their classmates would stop making such a big fuss over Harry's friendship with Draco?

***

The Three Broomsticks was packed with students. It had been a long day of sweets and jokes and exploring the village, as Harry and his friends had done for the past five years, but with the renewed urgency of those whose childhood was coming to a close. Thanks to the long daylight hours of late spring, the Hogsmeade outing had been extended to after supper, so everyone had had plenty of opportunity to wear themselves out. Now, with only an hour until the carriages returned to school, most of the Hogwarts contingent had retired to the pub for one last Butterbeer.

Harry, Hermione and Ron found themselves shoved in around a table toward the center of the room. They were joined by Ginny, Dean, Neville, Parvati, Padma, Lavender, and Lavender's boyfriend Michael Corner. Ginny and Harry were both studiously avoiding talking to Corner, while Ron shot murderous glares at his sister's ex-boyfriend across the cramped table.

An uncomfortably short distance away, Draco's crowd of Slytherins was spread out around a much larger table. The small group of Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Pansy, and Morag luxuriated in their ample space, throwing privileged smirks at any student who dared glare at them for their occupation of the territory. The elder Slytherins wore the expressions of disdain for all others that they'd always worn, but to Harry's practised eye, an undertone of sadness tinted their haughtiness.

Seamus and Millicent were nowhere to be seen.

"You've got to be joking!" exclaimed Lavender, feigning shock but failing to hide her zeal for fresh gossip. "Seamus and ... that cow?"

"She's not really so bad -" began Harry, but Parvati cut him off.

"Shut up, Harry. She really is so bad, she used to break my butterflies just to watch me cry." She caressed her current hair-ornament with delicate fingertips. "I can't believe Seamus, of all people -"

Lavender finished her friend's thought. "We thought he had some sense, anyway!"

Hermione and Ginny both sat back stiffly, the extreme offence they had taken at Lavender's words obvious in their expressions. It was clear that they felt the other girls meant the taste of some Gryffindor males had not been up to snuff.

Lavender and Parvati both jumped slightly, as though they'd both been pinched. Padma was shooting warning glances between her twin and her friend, having seen the expressions on Hermione's and Ginny's faces. Harry suspected she might have made some move under the table to alert Lavender and Parvati to their gaff.

Parvati's eyes went suddenly wide. "Oh, we didn't mean -"

"No, of course not," added Lavender. "Obviously, Ron and Dean both have excellent taste -"

"I mean, we think it's absolutely wonderful about you two getting married and everything," continued Parvati, nodding toward the Head Boy and Girl.

The two sincerely rounded pairs of eyes were met by a wall of narrowed glares. Ginny and Hermione seemed unimpressed by the apologies of the other girls.

"What did you mean, then?" asked Ginny with a forced lightness that fooled no one.

Parvati and Lavender both drew back at the dangerous calm in her tone.

"Well, we meant of course - that is -"

"You see, we were only saying -"

A quiet voice cut through the group. "You meant me, then."

All eyes swiveled toward Harry, who had spoken this last, except those of the two protesting witches. The culprits directed their gazes anywhere else at all.

"Tell me," Harry continued in the same deathly murmur, "are you referring to my being gay, or to my friendship with Draco Malfoy?"

At the mention of the name, Harry felt the sympathetic stares grow awkward and evasive. Even Hermione couldn't hide her dislike of Draco, despite having expressed her support of Harry's romantic interest in whomever he wished to fancy.

"Right," said Harry, and pushed back from the table with difficulty, bumping against students in three directions.

"Wait, Harry!" pleaded Hermione. Harry paused, only to humour his friend. "You know none of us likes him, but some of us, at least" - here she shot a quelling look at Ron - "still support your decision to be friends with him. We're your friends, at any rate."

"Please stay, Harry," added Ginny with quiet, but firm, sincerity.

Ron also opened his mouth as if to chime in, but Harry shook his head.

"I'll meet you all at the carriages," he stated, and ignoring the protests of his friends, walked slowly and steadily out of the pub.

With all the students still inside, the streets of Hogsmeade were very quiet. Clouds had rolled in during the early evening, and a light rain was now falling, keeping the townspeople inside their shops and houses, as well.

Harry wandered alone up the main street, enjoying the feel of the raindrops falling softly onto his face and hands. He let them cool off his temper, which had heated up so quickly at the thoughtless words of Parvati and Lavender. It wasn't as though he cared what they thought, or that he wasn't used to having people say unkind things about him. He only wanted to have some peace, after everything he'd had to do, and to be saved from having to hear the comments people made who didn't really know or understand him.

Harry tipped his face toward the heavens, feeling the rivulets slip down his cheeks onto his shoulders. He allowed the rain to leech out the ache from the unsupportive silence of that whole table of his closest friends. He stretched his arms out from his sides, inhaling the cool scent of dampness as everything about the almost-kiss the night before was cleansed from his mind.

"Are you mad? You're getting soaked."

Harry whirled around toward the voice. Draco's taunting smirk half-hid under the eaves of the post office, where he stood sheltered from the brunt of the weather. Harry smiled at him and spun slowly around in waterlogged defiance.

"You left in quite a strop, didn't you?" asked Draco with a forced lightness as he watched Harry turn.

"I thought I made my exit calmly enough," countered Harry. He stopped his motion, facing Draco, but kept his eyes closed and his head tilted back to avoid looking Draco in the eye.

"Another fight about me?"

Now Harry did look, as he realised Draco was staring at him very intensely. Even from several feet away, he felt that Draco was too close. The expression in Draco's eyes was almost as unhappy as it had been the night before, and Harry needed to put as much distance between them as possible.

"Not important, is it? We already knew what they think."

As Harry took a step back, he felt Draco's eyes raking over his face and shoulders. It was impossible not to meet them.

Draco's gaze was so direct, it burned from the shadows. "I don't want to be a problem for you, Harry."

"You're not," he responded automatically.

Draco raised an eyebrow, and waited.

Harry summoned up a smile. "The only problem, Draco, is if you don't agree to spend the last of the day with me."

Draco's smile was the first genuine one of the conversation. "Then there's no problem at all." He peered out into the dreary drizzle. "Where were you thinking we might spend it?"

Harry examined the sky. "Rain's going off. Let's get away from the shops, shall we?"

Draco eyed the clouds doubtfully, but nodded when he met Harry's eyes. "Right."

He set off, before Harry could stop him, in the direction of the Shrieking Shack. Considering their shared history, Harry thought he knew why Draco might want to go up there, but he had his own reasons for wanting to stay away.

He wasn't prepared to explain those reasons, though, so he followed his friend up the slope.

When they reached the clearing near the old house, Draco looked around himself. A few yards away was a large, muddy puddle where the rain had collected during the early-evening shower.

Draco stood staring at the puddle for quite some time, seeming to consider it, before he looked at Harry.

"Did I ever tell you about the strangest thing that happened to me here, once during Third Year?"

Harry feigned ignorance. "No, I don't think you have. What was it?"

Harry could tell Draco was only pretending to believe him, but was willing to pretend, nonetheless.

Draco continued, "Crabbe and Goyle and I had come up here to see the Shack, and we saw the Weasel - that is to say your friend Weasley - standing here alone."

Nervous, Harry maintained his silence as long as he could, until Draco's knowing glance made him stutter, "Oh - oh, yeah. I think he told me about it. How the ghosts didn't seem to like you much, either." He smirked playfully at Draco. "Threw mud in your hair, did they?"

Draco scowled. "It's not funny." His glare bore an uncanny resemblance to the hate he always used to project in their old days of animosity. "Crabbe couldn't sleep for weeks after that. None of us got any rest, from all his screaming."

Harry sobered. Poor Crabbe. Like so many of the other Slytherins whom Harry had always hated as a matter of course, Crabbe was turning out to have more depth than Harry had ever imagined. Part of his depth, it appeared, was a pretty sensitive disposition.

"Sorry."

Draco nodded somberly, toeing a muddy bit of soft ground near his feet.

When he returned his gaze to Harry, his expression softened, becoming almost playful. One pale eyebrow cocked itself above a silver eye. "And do you know the oddest part?"

Of course he knew, but Harry was enjoying the game, and despite his apprehension at this particular moment, the ease he felt now around Draco was an unbelievably welcome change from the tension in the Potions dungeon the night before. Plus, his father's Invisibility Cloak was a closely guarded secret, so he had to pretend not to know what Draco was about to say. He shook his head.

"The ghosts decided to scare us with the image of your head floating in midair," Draco replied lightly. "It even shocked Weasley. Up until then, he'd thought the mudslinging was a great gas, laughing so hard he could barely stand."

"Well," coughed Harry, trying not to smirk at the memory, "that is odd."

"The thing is," said Draco, advancing toward Harry with a determined step that caused him to fall back a few paces, "I've never seen a ghost create such a solid image. The spirits haunting this place must be much more powerful than any I've seen anywhere else."

"Must be," agreed Harry in a distracted mutter that continued into, "that's what they say about the Shrieking Shack, anyway ..."

Draco was starting to make him feel a bit nervous. Was he still really angry? What was he going to try and do to Harry for revenge?

One more step back, and Harry felt the grass becoming spongier under his feet. Without looking, for he didn't dare break eye-contact with his friend, he understood that Draco had backed him toward the enormous puddle he'd seen earlier.

Ah. So it was to be retribution.

"Yes, must be," echoed Draco with a dangerous softness. "Either that, or you really were here that day, and knew how to make yourself invisible somehow. You wouldn't have done anything like that, now, would you Harry?"

Harry shrugged casually, but was bracing himself for the attack that was about to come.

He didn't have to wait long.

Draco grabbed Harry's hand and tried to throw him into the mud puddle, but Harry was too quick: he took hold of Draco's free hand with his and threw back. Surprised, but possessed of the same Seeker reflexes as Harry, Draco planted his feet and tried again to throw Harry, who responded again in kind. Before either knew, they were spinning and laughing and turning faster and faster, never quite keeping their footing in the wet grass but never quite losing it, either.

Harry stared into Draco's face, the only clear image he could see as the rest of the world whizzed by around them. His cheeks were lit up pink with the flush of exertion, his eyes sparkling with mirth. Harry laughed out loud and let his vision narrow down to nothing but the silver of Draco's eyes and the white of his teeth. His nostrils took in the scent of the rain-wet air that drew its fingers through the curling hairs at the nape of his neck, while his hands gripped onto Draco's for dear life with the singular purpose of avoiding the inertial inevitability of flying apart into the mud.

As the sky blushed into the reds of sunset, Harry and Draco kept swirling, balanced at that razor-thin border between childhood and adulthood. Their movement was endless, beginningless, like time or space. Like the way a planet flies around its star, always and never changing its course, January and December nothing but arbitrary distinctions that people use who need to measure a thing in order to understand it.

And in the center of it all, two heads of black and gold, poised on the edge as if time for them had stopped, or not yet started.

***

Harry watched the smudges of dusk darken the sky. He was still smiling, feeling his heartrate slow to normal, as the swollen summer moon edged its way above the treeline, all lopsided from being two days past full. He shrugged one shoulder a tiny bit, enough to bring the thick wool of his cloak against his neck; although it was June already, the night was cold and he was grateful for the extra layer of clothing.

He could hardly believe how few weeks had passed: the last time he'd seen a moon just this shape had been the first evening after the dreams had begun. He remembered staring out the window before he went to bed, praying to any power which might be listening that the images would not repeat themselves.

Instead, here he was.

He rolled his head to the side to see the object of his infatuation - so recently his enemy - splayed out in the same position next to him. They had finally fallen this way, after an endless while of spinning, laughed themselves into silence, and had lain here without moving so long he thought Draco might have fallen asleep.

Harry looked up at the sky again. It felt so perfect just to be there, near Draco, he felt they could do nothing but lie there for the rest of the weekend and he would still be thrilled. He listened, in the stillness, for the soft sounds of Draco's breathing, and slowed his own until they matched.

His ankles rocked where Draco's were tangled in them. Harry looked over again to see the silver eyes open, reflecting the shine of the moonlight. Or perhaps that was the gleam of mischief. What did Draco have in mind?

Harry kicked back, grinning at his friend.

"Oi," he said softly.

"Yeah? What?" came the lazy drawl in return.

"There's mud in your hair."

Draco smiled and propped himself up on one elbow, shifting himself until he was closer by Harry's side. With his free hand, he wiped some of the offending dirt off his own hair, and ruffled it into Harry's.

"Yours, too," he replied with a smirk.

"Git," said Harry companionably, gazing up at the fair face which looked otherworldly in the growing light.

Draco looked so beautiful when he was happy. Harry had only recently seen this side of him, the side that could feel joy for its own sake instead of at someone else's expense. With Draco leaning over him like this, this was the moment Harry would have chosen for Draco to kiss him. After what had happened the previous night, though, Harry feared that Draco might never risk taking that step.

Draco's smile widened, causing Harry's heart to skip. No matter what logic told him, every fibre in Harry's being wished for those lips to touch his. If Draco kissed him in this moment, Harry might be so overwhelmed with ecstasy that he would die on the spot, and die happy.

"So?" Draco spoke at last. "What do you want to do now?"

Harry swallowed the imprudent suggestion that sprang to his lips. "Nothing," he replied instead, trying to concentrate on his contentment. "Let's just stay here."

A few bright stars twinkled overhead, each straining to catch the eye a bit more than the next.

"We'll miss the carriages back to school," protested Draco quietly.

Harry spotted another star he was sure hadn't been visible a minute earlier. He wished he'd paid more attention in Astronomy. Which was the Dog Star again?

"Just a few more minutes."

"But I really don't want to miss them." Draco's tone had gained insistence.

Harry sat halfway up, looking Draco directly in the eye. "And I really don't want to arrive in the middle of a crowd of your friends and my friends, all hating each other and hating that we're friends." And making snide comments about what we've been doing alone all this time to get ourselves all rumpled and covered in mud.

He lay back down, staring into the sky. "I don't feel like dealing with them now."

Draco looked away. Harry remembered what Draco had said about some of his housemates blaming him for their parents' deaths. He also remembered how happy and whole Draco had looked in the company of Slytherins earlier that day.

As if in response to Harry's thoughts, Draco said, "I had a good day today, Harry. I liked being around them again, having friends." He tipped his head toward Harry. "Besides you, I mean."

Harry's heart went warm at the acknowledgment. He nodded silently and met Draco's eyes.

"I get it," he told him softly. "You looked happy." After a moment's pause, he added, "I liked seeing you that way."

Draco smiled at him, but it quickly turned to a frown. "I wish they'd accept you. It's hard having to listen to some of the things they say, and not to be able to convince them they're wrong."

"Draco, it's okay -"

"It's not okay, Harry!" Draco's eyes flashed with anger which startled Harry in its suddenness. "They should be grateful, too, that you saved them from a lifetime of servitude. But they can't work it out. The only reason they're still alive is because I did it first. I protected them, and Snape protected all of us, and you protected him -" He broke off, his voice hitching. "They all owe you, but they hate you instead."

Harry let him talk. He could see how much it hurt Draco to be caught between having friends and being true to his feelings about what was right. He could empathise.

"I'm sorry, Draco. I do want you to be able to keep your other friends. I don't want you to have to choose between them and me."

What he didn't say aloud was how afraid he was that if Draco did have to make such a choice, it would be Harry himself who would lose.

Draco gave him a sort of sad half-smile. "I know," he responded, then pulled Harry up into a sitting position with a startling swiftness.

For a few seconds, their faces were close again. Harry could smell the cool dampness of the mud in Draco's hair, and the heat of his breath. It was all he could do not to grab Draco's shoulders and kiss him full on the lips. His heart was racing again from the proximity.

How could Draco not be affected the same way? Didn't he say he shared Harry's feelings? They were right there, it would take mere inches to bring Harry's hopes to fruition. He wanted it so badly his blood rang in his ears.

"I would never give this up, though," said Draco, so close that Harry could feel the warmth of his breath. "Not for anything. This has got to be one of the best days I can ever remember."

Harry could only nod in agreement. He was committing the scene to memory: the icy brightness of the moon, the music drifting up the hill from the Three Broomsticks, the earthy scent of the mud in Draco's hair. If he were struck dead in that moment, or stolen away never to see any of this again, he wanted to make sure he took with him everything about the way Draco made him feel this night.

Harry had just decided to go for it and snog the boy and hang the consequences, when Draco suddenly jumped to his feet. Completely befuddled by this turn of events, Harry scrambled upright next to him, trying to convince himself he hadn't been thinking what he had.

"Did you hear that?"

Draco's eyes were wide with alarm. Harry snapped to attention, fearing the worst danger, and whipped out his wand. Draco's gaze moved to Harry, and his expression turned to wry and somewhat condescending amusement.

"What are you going to do with that?" he asked, inclining his head toward Harry's drawn wand.

A soft tone rang across the hills, from down in the village. The clock tower was chiming the hour.

"Oh," said Harry, sheepishly pocketing his wand. "Oh."

"We've missed them," Draco muttered in a tone of voice usually reserved for foul language. "We've missed the carriages back to school." He lifted his head up again to look toward the village, and his eyes shown wide in the moonlight.

"Looks that way," Harry agreed with a shrug.

Draco emitted a brief string of foul words.

Taken aback, Harry babbled empty words of reassurance like, "Don't worry, it'll be alright -"

"It won't. We've missed them, we can't get back!"

"But ..." Harry considered their situation for a moment. "Look, why don't we just Apparate to the gates and catch the carriages there?"

Draco shook his head miserably. "They'll have passed by now, the gates aren't that far from the meeting point."

Harry tried to see the carriage road from the village, but it was too dark and there were too many trees obscuring the view.

"Okay, then we'll do something else."

"What, Harry? They'll lock the gates behind the carriages, we won't be able to get in at all."

Draco's panic seemed singularly odd to Harry. After all, they were both of age and Harry had enough gold in his pocket to rent a room at the Three Broomsticks if they were really stuck in the village for the night. The moment Harry imagined spending an entire night alone with Draco, he felt himself flush deeply, all over. He was very grateful for the dark.

Right. Better to avoid that one, then.

Or they could owl someone at school to send a carriage back for them ... if they could find an owl.

"This is not good, this is very seriously not good ..."

Harry struggled to hear his thoughts over Draco's mantra of panic. With the post office closed, the Three Broomsticks was looking better. Harry had enough money for two rooms, after all. They didn't have to stay together.

"Draco, let's go back to town. I have enough gold for a couple of rooms at the Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosmerta can get a message to Dumbledore and Snape that we're alright, and we can walk back first thing in the morning."

Draco was already shaking his head. "I have to get back tonight, Harry. Tonight."

Harry blinked woundedly. He had said 'a couple' of rooms. Draco might be feeling uncomfortable at being alone with Harry after what had happened the night before, but things shouldn't be so bad that he'd refuse to sleep in a neighbouring room!

"What's your problem?" he muttered bitterly, turning away.

A hand touched his shoulder lightly, before he could take a step.

"I made a promise, Harry. After Snape found me - you know, when I almost died from the Light Protection - he made me promise I would spend every single night at Hogwarts until I leave, so he can know I'm safe."

Harry stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"I know it sounds stupid, but he was so scared after he found me, and he asked me to promise, so I did. A promise is a promise, Harry. I have to get to school tonight."

"But surely just this once -"

"No."

"But you've been angry with him! And it's an unfair promise!"

Draco looked at him for a moment with an annoyed, but thoughtful, expression.

"Has Dumbledore ever asked you to agree to something that didn't seem fair?"

"Well, yeah ..."

"And if you promised him you'd do it, would you go back on that promise?"

Harry thought about that a moment. "I suppose not. But what does that have to do -"

"Because I don't have a father, so Snape is all I have. And Dumbledore is what you have. So it's exactly the same."

Harry stared at him a moment longer, unwilling to draw a parallel between Dumbledore and Snape, however apt.

"Let me put it this way, then," pressed Draco. "There's not much honour left in the Malfoy name, but that's no excuse for me to go back on my word. I intend to keep my promise, however absurd it might sound to you."

A placatory smile pulled at the corners of Harry's mouth. "Doesn't sound a bit absurd, actually," he responded.

Draco's face contorted in frustration. "Terrific," he grumbled. "So pleased that you approve. But it doesn't exactly help our situation, does it?"

Harry tuned out Draco's distress, focusing on his own. He was running out of ideas quickly, and kept coming back to the one he fancied least of all. As Draco stood before him, staring grimly in the general direction of the locked gates, Harry's gaze was drawn inexorably behind his shoulder, toward the only option that remained to them.

He hadn't set foot in the Shrieking Shack in over a year. It had been a possible escape or attack route in the Order's plans for the final confrontation with Voldemort, and Dumbledore had shown Harry how to break through the wards and enter the house from Hogsmeade. During the lessons, Harry had thought fondly of Fred and George, who had once regaled Harry, Ron and Hermione with stories of this impenetrable shack with no way in. Of course, it was only that access had been made impossible for anyone other than Dumbledore or Lupin, for security reasons, until Harry had needed it.

Thankfully, Harry had not used that route during the battle, so the memories the Shack held most strongly were still those of Harry's first-ever visit.

Every board of the building still reminded Harry of the night he had met his godfather, had allowed himself to begin to hope for a different kind of family. It seemed to loom now, more haunted with the spectres of Harry's past than it ever had been with true ghosts. He wanted nothing less than to go inside.

Correction: he wanted only one thing less, and that was to let Draco down.

Looking at the Shack reminded Harry of the conversation he'd had with Charlie about Lupin. He thought he understood, now, why Lupin hadn't been in touch in so long. He missed him, though. Moony was the last connection Harry had to his parents.

Draco was staring at Harry now, and beginning to look impatient.

"Harry, are planning on standing around here all night? It's still breaking the promise, even if I don't sleep, you know -"

Harry lay a reassuring hand on Draco's arm. He shook his head.

"You worry too much," he tried to tease, in a voice that sounded way too high.

Before Draco could respond, Harry took his hand and started to pull him toward the dilapidated structure.

Draco, seeing where the were headed, dug in his heels. "Oh, no. No! I am not going in there. I - I'll get a message to Snape somehow. He'll understand."

Harry couldn't believe Draco's resolve would crumble that quickly, simply at the prospect of entering a creaky old building.

"Shut up, prat," he replied affectionately. "Do you want to get back to Hogwarts tonight, or don't you?"

Draco did shut up, but regarded Harry with a great degree of wariness.

"What are you doing, Harry?"

"Trust me," he said with a smile. And to his delight, that seemed to end the argument for Draco.

***

"Lumos."

"Again, Harry, I beg you to tell me that you're joking."

Harry looked around the dusty disorder of the ground floor of the Shrieking Shack. It didn't look frightening to him, only very, very sad.

Nothing had changed, except for the addition of a new layer of dust. The paper was peeling a bit more, maybe, and perhaps a few new water stains had been added to the walls and ceiling, but he didn't remember those details well enough to compare. Harry recognised the torn-apart wooden chair he'd seen on his previous visit.

"I thought Malfoys didn't beg," he commented without glancing at his companion.

"Bollocks." Draco's dramatic snap lost a lot of effect due to the tremble in his voice. "Whatever my ancestors may or may not have done, I choose my own actions. Which will not, in the future, include trusting Potters."

Harry turned to look Draco in the eye. "You trust me, or you break Snape's trust in you. Your choice."

He strode across the room to the door that he remembered as the entrance to the tunnel. Sure enough, it creaked open when he tugged the handle. When he turned back to his companion, Draco's face had gone three shades paler.

"You had better know what you're doing, Potter."

"Or what, Malfoy? Your corpse will murder my corpse?"

Draco halted in the steps he'd started to take toward Harry, eyes wide.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm joking, you silly git. Now come on."

Draco scowled. "You really shouldn't call people names. It isn't nice."

"Surly, aren't we?"

"Abject terror has that effect on me."

"You really are a giant sissy, aren't you?"

"Perhaps you've already forgotten that a significant trauma from my early adolescence revolves around this building - and your floating head."

Harry chuckled. "Awfully sensitive of you, isn't it?"

"Congratulations, Harry," announced Draco sarcastically. "You've found the crack in the unshakable Malfoy façade. Now stop gloating and take me home."

"Silly git."

"I've told you it isn't nice to call people names."

"I'll remember that, Draco."

Harry smiled to himself as he led his friend into the darkness.

***

They'd been walking nearly twenty minutes, hunched over double to avoid hitting their heads on the ceiling of the low tunnel, before either of them spoke. Harry really couldn't blame Draco for his doubts; even though he had already been down this tunnel himself, he was starting to feel apprehensive about the journey.

Harry knew he was significantly taller than he'd been the last time, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that the tunnel was closing in on them. Nor could he shake the feeling of déjà vu; it was creepy how familiar this all felt, although he knew he'd never passed through this tunnel with Draco before.

Suddenly it hit him, so forcefully he almost stumbled: he had lived a moment almost exactly like this in his dream. The similarity was eerie.

Draco interrupted Harry's thoughts. "Where are we going? This place is giving me the shivers."

"It leads back to Hogwarts. This tunnel comes out on the grounds."

"But the doors of the castle will be locked already, won't they?"

Harry turned to stare at Draco, a bit disbelieving. "Are you telling me you've forgotten how to sneak back into the castle after going out onto the grounds at night?"

Draco only blinked at him.

"Well, what did you do that time in First Year, when you followed Ron and Hermione and me down to Hagrid's hut?"

Draco blinked again, adding a bit of a shrug for variety's sake.

"Or, how about all the other times you've snuck out since then?"

Draco blinked again, his head drifting slowly from left to right and back.

"You realise, of course, that you have just completely debunked the bad-boy image which you had so carefully constructed about yourself over the years?"

The Slytherin grunted derisively and fell into a sitting position on the ground.

"This is killing my back, Harry. Can we take a rest?"

By way of answer, Harry slumped down across from Draco, trying to shake the feeling that he'd dreamed all of this before. He arched his back and stretched his arms behind him, focusing on the immediate physical experience of being down here, to keep himself grounded in the present. It wasn't difficult; his back was starting to ache wickedly.

The way through this tunnel hadn't seemed so onerous when Ron's life had been in danger and Harry had been running to save him. It had gone by quickly on the trip back, as well, while Sirius had invited Harry to come live with him and Harry had begun to fantasise about life without the Dursleys.

The memory, as always, brought a sick twist to Harry's gut. It was all the stronger for happening while Harry was sitting on the very same ground he'd trod while Sirius had first explained to Harry about being his appointed guardian.

Draco must have seen the look on his face.

"How do you know about this place, anyway, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, unwilling or maybe even unable to make eye contact.

"Come on, Harry, this is not the sort of thing someone just happens to know. How did you find it?"

Harry lifted his head, but looked down the tunnel toward Hogwarts, away from Draco. He inhaled sharply, fighting against the pressure behind his eyes.

Draco sounded alarmed. "Are you alright? What's going on?"

Harry closed his eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths. When he finally trusted himself, he settled his gaze on Draco. He waited until he thought he could speak steadily, then said, "It's a very long story."

Draco examined Harry's face a moment in the darkness, then smiled encouragingly. "I have time."

"I thought you were in a hurry to get back?"

"I have to be back tonight. It doesn't matter precisely when. Or how long is your story?"

Harry tried to smile, but felt his eyes itching again. He shook his head slowly and took another deep breath. "I don't think I can."

It was very strange to see Draco's face take on the same expression Ron wore when he felt Harry was shutting him out of something.

Even his voice sounded similar: "I told you about my scar, about my parents, about how my friends are reacting, everything. I've spilled my soul, and all I know about you is what's been in the papers."

Harry quirked a smile. "Can't believe everything you read, you know."

Draco's scowl softened, replaced by a glimmer of genuine mirth. "So tell me something I should believe, then."

Harry leaned his head back against the cool earth of the wall. He was afraid of what might happen if he let himself talk about Sirius. They had had such a great day, he didn't want to ruin it with some messy emotional scene. He'd always been able to keep his feelings in check when talking about Sirius before, but that had always been with Ron or Hermione. It was another thing, entirely, to bare his soul to Draco and mix all his unresolved grief into his frustrated yearnings.

The only thing that made Harry tell the story was the fact that Draco was right. It was his turn to talk.

So he did. He told Draco everything, from blowing up Aunt Marge and running away from the Dursleys' house, all the way to the Department of Mysteries and Sirius falling through the archway. Draco stayed silent through the whole thing, discreetly looking away in the moments when Harry had to swipe gruffly at the dampness on his cheeks.

When he'd finished talking, Harry was exhausted. All he wanted was to curl up into a ball and take a long nap. He would get himself back to school later.

Draco was looking at him steadily. He reached out a hand and yanked Harry back to the half-standing position that was all the boys could manage in the cramped space.

"So you say there's a knot at the exit of this tunnel that will keep the Whomping Willow from knocking us senseless?"

Harry nodded mutely, grateful for the soft, comforting grip of Draco's hand on his.

He could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips.

They pushed on, awkwardly bent over and crushed together. Before long, they had reached the exit. Harry realised he didn't actually know which knot it was that would stop the Willow from whomping, but he found it in a few tries, then pulled Draco out.

The two boys sat on the damp grass for a few minutes, safely out of range of the reanimated tree, catching their breath. They were sweaty and cold, and smeared head-to-toe in dirt. Both were smiling broadly.

"Still planning on never trusting a Potter again?" Harry grinned giddily. He was trying to draw Draco's attention away from their still-clasped hands, afraid that if he noticed, the vibrant feeling of contact would disappear.

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "I may reconsider that policy. Depending on how you propose to get us back inside the castle now."

"Glad you asked."

Harry hadn't actually thought through this detail before he'd led them toward the Shrieking Shack. In retrospect, the tunnel under Honeydukes might have been preferable, but Harry hadn't wanted to risk being seen breaking into the shop, which would have closed as soon as the students left the village. Plus, without the Map in hand, he had no idea where Filch or Mrs. Norris might be prowling at that moment.

He'd had time to think about it, though, since Draco had asked, and he had a couple of possible ideas.

Harry stood, pulling Draco to his feet in the same motion. He surveyed his companion's appearance. "Alright. First of all, if anyone finds you looking like this, there's no telling what they'll think. Scourgify." A moment later, Draco looked as composed and presentable as always. Harry then turned the wand on himself and performed the same spell.

Without another word, Harry turned and started walking toward the castle.

Draco jogged to catch up. "Are you going to share your plan?"

Harry smiled. "The simplest solution is sometimes the best," he answered. He felt a bit as though his words sounded as obliquely as Dumbledore's were wont to do, so he clarified: "I'm going to try the main doors."

"What? You're mad -"

"Shh." Harry pulled Draco into the shadow of a tree, in sight of the entrance to the castle.

Draco obligingly lowered his voice to a whisper, but was not willing to silence his objections. "Just walk in the main doors? Even if they are open, we'll be caught for sure!"

"That's why I stopped," replied Harry. "I'm about to let you in on a very big secret."

"What's that?"

Harry took a deep breath. If Draco had trusted him to lead them back safely to the castle, then Harry could trust Draco with the information he was about to share.

He smiled at his nervous friend, then turned his attention to the bottom of his trunk, up in his dormitory. "Accio Invisibility Cloak!"

Draco stared openmouthed for the full minute that passed before the slippery material slid into Harry's waiting hands.

"You know, we knew you had one of these! It was the only real explanation for your head turning up in midair that day."

"So? You were right." Harry shrugged. "Now come here. This thing will barely cover the two of us."

Harry smiled a bit at the turn events had taken. Now that they had left the tunnel behind and returned to Hogwarts grounds, Draco was visibly more relaxed. Harry, for his part, was starting to feel more excited about being alone with Draco, and if circumstances forced them to huddle together under a single Invisibility Cloak, who was he to complain?

Draco grinned at Harry as they were pulled close together by the material. "So this is what it's like to be part of one of your adventures," he said.

Harry said nothing, only beamed yet more widely, as Draco's hand slipped back into his.

The gamble paid off, and the doors opened easily to allow the errant students access to the castle.

"Alright, we're in," breathed Draco in relief. A happy shiver scuttled up Harry's spine at the puff of air on his neck. "I'd better get down to the dungeons."

Harry held on before he could slip away. "Let me walk you. I don't want you getting caught between here and there."

Draco smiled and squeezed Harry's hand, then led the way toward the staircase down to Slytherin without a word.

Harry's heart was racing. Draco's palm was so warm against his, and the grip of his fingers was so strong and sure. Harry couldn't stop himself from imagining the sensation of having those hands running over his back, or threading again into the hairs at the back of his neck as their lips met for a second time. If only he could be truly sure that was what Draco wanted, Harry would make his move this very instant.

But for all the joy this closeness was bringing, Harry couldn't help thinking back to the previous night. Draco had been so upset and confused, he might not even be sure what he wanted. Harry couldn't handle another three weeks of confusion like the ones he'd just endured. He would not let himself kiss Draco, unless he were sure of Draco's feelings, no matter how deeply the frustration dug into him.

Finally, they came to the bit of blank wall Harry recognised as the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. He tried to hide his knowledge of what lay behind the wall.

Draco turned to face Harry. In the torch light, under the shadows of the Cloak, Harry felt exactly the same excited agitation he had when he'd been pulled into that alcove at the other end of the corridor. Their faces were even closer than they had been that day.

"Thank you, Harry," whispered Draco, his breath feathering across Harry's mouth. "I have had a truly wonderful day."

Before Harry could answer, he felt Draco's hands take hold of his hips. Before Harry could breathe, he felt Draco very purposefully press his lips against Harry's mouth.

Harry smiled widely, parting his lips slightly to allow access for Draco's soft tongue, which he met with his own. He wrapped his arms around Draco's back, running one hand up to thread fingers into the impossibly fine strands of Draco's hair. When he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, Draco responded in kind, moving one arm more tightly around Harry's waist and leaning his body against Harry's.

The warmth of contact flooded every corner of Harry's senses, from his knees all the way up to his face, and to the very tips of his fingers. His heartbeat was deafening in his ears, and yet still allowed Harry to hear the minute sounds of happiness emerging from Draco's throat. Harry smiled and even laughed a bit as he ran his lower lip over the other boy's, meeting Draco's tongue with his as the tiny prickles of their stubble burned each other's chins.

Harry's head was swimming from the sensations. Every nerve ending shouted at the relief of being free to touch Draco, and begged for more. He inhaled sharply through his nose, sighing as Draco pulled back to brush his lips lightly over Harry's before plunging deeper again. Having been so preoccupied with the fact of the first kiss they'd shared, Harry had forgotten precisely how good it had been. Draco was an amazing kisser. Harry didn't care how narrow a basis he had for comparison: there was no way anyone could possibly be better.

Draco broke off the kiss with a firm nudge of his nose against Harry's. Harry opened his eyes to observe the broadest, most brilliant smile he had ever seen him wear.

"I'll see you tomorrow," said Draco through his grin, then pressed one more soft kiss to Harry's lips before slipping out from under the Cloak. "Now bugger off! You're not allowed to see how I get into my House from here."

Draco's tone was light and teasing, so that Harry couldn't help but laugh as he walked away. He trod more heavily than normal, so that Draco would be sure to hear his footsteps retreating and know that Harry really had left.

Harry could have floated up all the staircases from the Dungeons to Gryffindor Tower. Draco had kissed him. And Harry knew that he had meant it. Draco had meant it!

Harry was so happy he felt his joy ringing in his brain. There could be no doubt about that kiss. Things were finally going right. The night couldn't possibly be short enough until Harry could see Draco again.