Checkmate

I have to hand it to you
For you've managed to make me forget why I ever agreed to this farce

I don't know why I can't think of anything
I would rather do
Then be wasting my time . . . with you

Lyrics from "Mountain Duet" from Chess by Benny Anderson, Tim Rice and Björn Ulvaeus

* * *

There was a frozen moment in time, when Harry's softly spoken words, "Come here," hung in the air between them, echoing over and over in silence. Then Draco stepped around the table, and came to him, one hand trailing along the edge of the table, as if he needed something solid to cling to for a moment. He came to stand face to face with Harry, very close, his left hand still resting on the edge of the table, firelight turning his flaxen hair to a molten red-gold.

Harry suddenly felt no more compelling need than to just gaze at Draco, up close, to let his eyes rest on the perfect curve of that inviting upper lip, or on the pale cheeks that were flushed just now with firelight and maybe something else, or on the fair delicately arched eyebrows or the thick dusky-blond lashes that framed those exquisite eyes. Harry saw that Draco was studying his face too, and he gave one brief distracted thought to whether Draco could possibly find him as attractive as he was finding Draco, because he was coming just now to the startling realization that Draco Malfoy was very beautiful to look at. Not in a feminine sense, but in the sense that Harry felt he could stare at the perfect features and soft-hued colors of Draco's face all night long.

Then Harry's eyes traveled up to the pale, fire-burnished blond fringe falling over Draco's forehead, and his longing-to-look turned into wanting-to-touch. And so he did. With the fingertips of one hand and a feather-light touch, Harry reached up and brushed those soft strands back, then let his fingers trail down the side of Draco's face, behind his ear and into the silky waves of hair that fell down the back of his neck.

At this first touch, Draco eyes closed and he drew in a short sharp shivery breath.

Harry stroked Draco's hair down the back of his neck, then he raised his hand again and let his fingers trail down the side of Draco's face from temple to jaw line.

Draco turned his face slightly into Harry's hand so that his cheek brushed Harry's palm.

The tenderness of this small gesture almost undid Harry. Touching Draco only with that one light caress of fingers to cheek, Harry leaned forward to kiss him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, so close that he could feel Draco's breath on his face, and then their lips met, and he was kissing Draco, oh, so softly, and everything melted. Time, the room, and all thought swirled away in a dizzy flood of trembling sensation.

Draco never moved his hands, letting this be Harry's kiss, making no demands of his own, surrendering control of whatever happened entirely to Harry for this moment, giving him everything.

Harry moved his hand back behind Draco's head, fingers sliding into that wonderfully silky hair, and he slipped his other arm around Draco's waist, slowly drawing their bodies together, as he deepened the kiss. Draco's warm mouth opened for him, and Harry felt a tremor run through Draco as their bodies came together. An answering shiver went through Harry, and he felt in that timeless second, as if some missing part of him had just slid quietly and perfectly into place. He dropped his hand from the back of Draco's head, wrapped that arm around Draco's back and pulled him tighter against himself. Draco moved then, and Harry felt firm arms encircle his neck, gentle hands and fingers caress the back of his neck, tangle in his hair.

Oh. . . .

Draco was responding to him with a trusting abandon and willingness that was quite new to Harry's experience, and that told Harry far more about how much this meant to him than anything Draco had said. He really wants this - wants me. Oh God, this is serious for him - no, he thought, this is serious for us, and Harry acknowledged the commitment he was making with this kiss. For he knew with certainty in that moment that he never wanted to hurt Draco again, not ever again.

Harry pulled back a little, gently breaking the kiss, softening the parting with a second small kiss. "Draco," he whispered.

Draco opened his eyes and met Harry's intense gaze with complete openness. His eyes were misty, dreamy gray velvet, and Harry got lost in them. Their eyes locked, emerald and gray, and the walls crumbled, the fences fell, all the boundaries came down, until there was nothing left between them but wide unexplored spaces, endless vistas of sparkling green fields meeting velvety gray skies, melting together somewhere on some distant horizon as smoothly and seamlessly as two streams of water flowing into one.

Harry was profoundly moved. He closed his eyes and kissed the corner of Draco's mouth, kissed his cheek, and the sweet place just under his ear. Then he buried his face in Draco's soft hair and tried to keep standing. He was breathing fast and his heart was pounding. He could feel Draco's heartbeat pounding in counterpoint to his own, could hear Draco's quickened breath that so mirrored his own, in his ear.

The arms that were around his neck tightened, and a whisper in his ear said, "Knight to B5," and then slow and impossibly tender kisses were trailing down his neck, into his collar and onto his throat, then up over his jaw, until those lips closed over his again, and Harry found out how it felt to be kissed by someone who wanted him deeply, and without reservation. It was revelation, explanation, and deliriously intoxicating. Harry felt his knees go weak.

But then abruptly, Draco broke off the kiss and pulled back.

Harry's eyes flew open and he met Draco's eyes with surprise and concern, feeling bereft, and then astonished at how much he didn't want that kiss to end, wondering why Draco had pulled away so suddenly.

Draco looked back at Harry with deep affection in his eyes and a mischievous half-smile on his lips. "I'm just checking - " he said, in a low, teasing, out-of-breath voice. "You don't still want to be . . . just friends . . . do you, Harry?"

Harry exhaled the breath he'd been unconsciously holding with a laugh. "Oh God, you," he said, shaking his head, still a bit breathless too, in the after effects of that kiss. He tightened his arms around Draco, and grinned. "No," he said softly, his face coloring slightly. "I don't." Draco's answering smile caused Harry's heart to turn over. He leaned his head in and quickly kissed the adorably curved corner of that smile. Then he turned his head and looked at the chessboard, and laughed again. "You didn't even move your piece on the board."

Draco tilted his head and smirked at Harry cutely. "I was busy," he teased. He reluctantly let go of Harry with one arm, and turned to look at the chessboard. "Hmm," he said smugly, turning back to Harry with one eyebrow raised, "seems I took your Pawn."

"I took yours first," countered Harry with a grin.

Draco laughed and moved his dragon. He took Harry's Pawn off the board.

Then Harry moved. "Pawn to E6." He pulled away from Draco, took hold of his wrist, stepped back, sat down in his chair and pulled Draco down into his lap. He looked up into those lovely gray eyes. "Kiss me like that again," he said, putting his arms around Draco. "And this time," he added softly, as Draco curled up against him, and met his eyes with a steady tender gaze, "don't stop."

Draco put one arm around Harry's shoulders, then lowered his eyes, and began unbuttoning the collar of Harry's shirt with his other hand. He gently pulled Harry's collar open, buried his face in the warm hollow of Harry's neck and kissed him there. Then he raised his head slowly, trailing lingering feathery kisses up Harry's neck to his ear. "Like this?" he whispered in Harry's ear.

Harry moaned very softly; his eyes fluttered closed. He felt Draco's tongue flicker over his ear lobe and he shivered. God. "Yes," he breathed. He wrapped his arms tighter around Draco and pulled him closer.

But then Draco lifted his head to look at Harry, this time quite soberly. "Harry?" He waited until Harry opened his eyes and looked back at him. He held Harry's eyes in an intent, searching gaze for a moment, before he spoke again. "You know, this isn't a game to me at all."

"I know," said Harry quietly, seriously, returning Draco's searching look with complete sincerity. "And the only game I'm playing with you is chess." He laid his hand against Draco's face and ran his thumb lightly over Draco's cheekbone. "This is the most real thing I've ever felt." Harry saw something kindle deep in Draco's eyes for a second, just before they closed, and Draco's mouth came down on his with a trembling intensity that sent waves of shivery tremors through Harry, and blotted out all thought.

Nothing was said for a long time after that except what was said with warm kisses and sighs, soft moans and tender heart-stopping touches. But at last Draco laid his head on Harry's shoulder, with his face against Harry's neck, and they just held each other, Harry with one arm around Draco, stroking Draco's hair with his other hand, and that alone was so much.

Harry sat with his eyes closed, holding Draco, soaking in the warmth and comfort he felt. The fire had burned low, but crackled pleasantly; he could feel Draco's breath on his neck, and the gentle idle caresses of Draco's hands. He felt he could have stayed like this and never moved again, but awareness of the time finally surfaced in his thoughts, and he stirred and sighed. "I'll have to go soon," he whispered.

"I know," said Draco. Neither of them moved.

Then after a bit, Harry bent his head and kissed the top of Draco's nose. "I should probably go now," he said.

Draco slowly uncurled and sat up. He looked dreamy, half-asleep, his hair was adorably disarrayed. "What are you going to tell your roommates?" he asked, suddenly looking uneasy.

"As little as possible," said Harry. "At least for now. What do you want me to say?"

Draco looked down, thinking. "I don't expect you to keep secrets from your friends, Harry," he said, after a moment. "But I think the fewer people who know about this, the better."

"I agree," said Harry. "And . . . well, this is really new for me . . . and we both know it's going to cause a huge stir. I don't want to deal with a lot of outside pressure yet. So, I won't even tell my friends until we both agree it's okay."

Then Harry looked suddenly alarmed. "But what about Pansy? Is she going to remember anything? And what did you do to her, anyway?"

"Memory charm," said Draco. "Erased the last five minutes of her memory - so no, she shouldn't remember anything about seeing you here." Then Draco started laughing. "It was a good thing I was still mad at you when I hauled you back in here, otherwise I might have had a seizure from laughing so hard. The look on your face. . . ."

"Hey," said Harry. "It wasn't funny. I thought she was going to eat me alive."

"Oh, she would have," said Draco. "That girl's no pansy - she's a bloody Venus Man-Trap. At least she didn't ambush you and drag you into one of the broom closets."

Harry choked. "She did that to you? Oh my God."

"Yes, she did. End of fifth year - it was horrible - actually that may have been a defining moment in my life - the reason I jumped the fence, so to speak." Then Draco laughed again at Harry's appalled expression. "She never really laid a hand on me, though," he said. "When I realized what she intended, I punched her in the nose and ran like hell."

"You didn't," said Harry. Then he started to laugh. "Yes, I guess you would."

"She's mostly left me alone since then, except for that bloody nickname." Draco grinned and shrugged, then stood up, stretching. "I figured it was either her nose, which was no great beauty to start with, or I'd have to jump out of one of the towers later, and that would have been such a waste, and so much messier." He held out a hand to Harry.

Harry laughed and took Draco's hand, and let Draco pull him up from the chair.

"You know I don't want you to go," said Draco softly, keeping hold of Harry's hand. His eyes were the deep soft gray of summer rain clouds, full of hope and longing.

Harry felt the heat rush to his face. "I . . . really do have to get back. . . . It's late . . . and my roommates. . . . " he stammered, suddenly at a loss for words.

"I know," said Draco with a wistful smile. He released Harry's hand with a gentle squeeze.

Harry retrieved his glasses from the table, then went to find his shoes. Draco stood by the door while he put them on. Then Harry put his arms around Draco and kissed him again, one long lingering kiss, followed by a small tender one. "Will you let me come back tomorrow night?" he asked shyly, gazing into those captivating gray eyes.

"Harry," said Draco, his voice warm and teasing, "if you don't come back tomorrow night, I'll tell Pansy you like her."

Harry shuddered, and then grinned. "If you do, you'll just have to explain the nasty mess under the astronomy tower the next day."

Draco laughed, and reluctantly pulled out of Harry's arms. He opened the door. "Be careful going back."

"I will," said Harry. "Don't worry. I've been outrunning Filch for six years." He paused, then reached up and gently trailed his fingertips down the side of Draco's face. Their eyes met, green and gray. "Thanks . . ." said Harry, very softly, ". . . for coming to talk to me last night." Then he went out the door, and as he started down the stairs, he heard a whispered "Good night," and the click of the door closing quietly behind him.

* * *

Draco closed the door behind Harry, then leaned back against it with his eyes closed, exactly the way he had earlier, after he had thrown Harry's shoes out and slammed the door. But the feeling then had been quite different. Then, with the slamming of the door, Draco's surge of anger was overlaid almost instantly with regret - with the feeling that he had just made a huge mistake. Had he really just thrown Harry out - after wanting him to be here so much - how could he have done something so stupid?

Harry was probably all the way down the tower by now. Was it too late to go after him? Would Harry even consider coming back? Draco had put his hands over his face and moaned. Even if he was angry, he wanted Harry back. Then, incredibly, Harry had called his name through the door. He hadn't gone at all. Draco had been too stunned to respond at first. After a moment, he had pushed away from the door and turned to face it, completely transfixed by surprise, as he listened to Harry asking to be let back in. Then Harry had said, "I need to tell you something. That you're wrong - what you said about me not being interested - it isn't true," and Draco had reached for the door handle. But before he could open the door, he had heard Pansy's voice, and had frozen for a half-second in alarm. Then he had run to find his wand.

And he had gotten Harry back. But then, oh damn his temper, he'd almost screwed everything up again. He'd been mortified that he'd yelled at Harry. But Harry had been wonderful, had teased him, and let him explain. And had stayed. Had been everything Draco had longed for.

Now, leaning back against his door, Draco suddenly noticed that the deep ache of longing that had been with him for months was gone, lingering only faintly now as a sweet reminder of Harry's absence, and how much Draco wanted to be with him again. In its place was a feeling that he'd never, ever felt before. It was the most wonderful, swirly kind of mixture of cozy warmth inside his heart, and a light-headed dizzy feeling - it was probably happiness, or contentment, or something equally clichéd - so he really didn't want to put a name to it - he just wanted to enjoy feeling it.

He pushed away from the door and walked past his bed to his wardrobe. He opened the drawer at the bottom and pulled out a brown packing box, which he carried back to the fireplace. He knelt in front of the fire, set the box down, and then stared for a moment into the flickering flames while a flood of memories and sensations rushed over him. Draco could still feel Harry's light touches, hear his voice, his words, could still taste the velvety soft inside of his mouth. More than anything, Draco wanted to lose himself in this rush of feeling, wanted to relive the memory of the perfect way he and Harry had felt together.

But, he was tired, had not slept much at all the night before, and it was late. And there was something important he had to do tonight before he could go to bed. He forced himself to concentrate - he would have to save thinking about Harry for later. Draco opened the packing box and pulled out another box that was labeled Portable Potions Kit. He had gotten it by owl order a few weeks ago, mostly for curiosity's sake, but it was perfect for what he wanted to do now.

He opened the kit and unpacked a small pewter cauldron, size 0.67, a length of chain with a hook at both ends, a pair of tongs, some cutting and stirring implements, a sieve, and a funnel, all appropriately small, plus several sizes of bottles and jars with lids, and another box which was labeled 50 Standard Potion Ingredients. This last box contained tiny individual packets and vials of everything from aardvark bile to powdered zombie toes. Draco smiled to himself, quite pleased by the set, and found he was no longer sleepy. Between this kit, his own class supplies, and what he had stolen from Snape's desk that morning, he should have everything he needed.

He jumped up and went to his desk to get his notes from that morning's class, his Potions class supplies, and to retrieve the stolen ingredients from the drawer where he had hidden them. He carried them all back to the fireplace, and dropped down with artless grace to sit cross-legged on the floor. He unrolled his parchment and reread it. He had taken very careful notes this morning from Snape's lecture on the advanced variation of the Hex Repellant Potion. It might be a little tricky, because it had to be done in two steps, but he thought he could use one of the bottles from his new kit to make the infusion of forget-me-nots.

He sorted through all the ingredient packets, pulling out what he needed and packing the rest away. He used the chain to hang the little cauldron by its handle from the flue in his fireplace, so that it dropped down over the fire, and then began mixing the ingredients. He had to go fill one of the small bottles with water from the bathroom tap, then he set that at the edge of the fire to boil. When it did, he put in the forget-me-nots, waited the proper length of time for it to steep, then promptly stirred in the pinch of shredded boomslang skin. He stirred it again, and added this mixture to the ingredients simmering in the cauldron. There was a poof of white smoke and the liquid in the cauldron turned a clear blue. Draco stared at it closely, hoping it was supposed to do that. Snape hadn't mentioned any color changes.

He found the tongs, clamped them under the curved lip of the cauldron, and lifted it off the hook. Then he strained the contents into one of the jars and screwed on the lid. He held the jar up and inspected the blue liquid with a critical eye. This absolutely had to be right - there could be no mistakes.

He set the jar down, sighed, and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of one hand. Then, he yawned. He was very tired now, the lack of sleep from the night before was catching up to him, and being so close to the fire had made him hot and sticky. He got up and started clearing everything away. He washed out his little cauldron in the bathroom sink, then packed the kit back into its box and put it away in his wardrobe drawer, leaving no trace whatsoever of what he had done. He hid the jar of blue liquid in his medicine cabinet. Now, if his father would send the ring soon. . . .

He took a very quick shower, and finally, dropped gratefully into bed. Only then did he let himself think of Harry again.

This night would be etched in his memory forever. Especially that moment when Harry had taken off his glasses and stepped around the table. Harry had smiled at him in a way that made him feel suddenly breathless with surprise and hope, and Draco had known then that Harry was going to kiss him. Harry had said, "Come here," in that soft way, and the room, or maybe the whole world, had shifted crazily under his feet so that he felt he had to hold on to the edge of the table to keep from falling.

Draco had gone to him, and found he had to hold on tighter to the edge of the table. He had never seen Harry with his glasses off. Harry in glasses was cute, attractive, often adorably so. Even the glasses themselves had attained cute status in Draco's mind, as had Harry's invariably messy hair, simply because they were part of Harry. But without glasses, Harry was - well, flat-out stunning. His eyes were an unbelievably pure green, sparkling like bright colored glass, or gemstones, not hard, but warm and brilliant, reflecting light into everything they touched. And those long black lashes. Draco's heart had skipped several beats. Harry had touched him so gently, and kissed him so sweetly, and all Draco had wanted in that trembling moment was to give Harry everything.

Then Harry had said his name in that awed whisper, and he had opened his eyes to look into Harry's eyes, and been lost in the expression in those emerald eyes - it was the achingly moving reality of what he had always dreamed of seeing in those eyes. He had been lost, willingly and gladly, in some timeless place where it was impossible to tell where one of them stopped and the other started, lost in the depths of those brilliantly warm green eyes, his heart given over without question.

But the moment that had caused the total meltdown in Draco's heart was when Harry had pulled him down into his lap, and had held him so close, and had said, "This is the most real thing I've ever felt." Draco hadn't believed that anything could ever touch him as deeply or as eloquently as that one sentence had. And it had been Harry who had asked if they could see each other again. That meant so much. It meant that Harry wanted him. It was so unexpected.

No, tonight had not been what Draco had expected at all. It had been more than he had ever let himself dare hope for, but most certainly not what he had expected. He had expected accusations about past wrongs, questions about his father and Death Eaters, and how much Dark Magic he knew, things he had steeled himself to answer as honestly as possible. But Harry had acted like none of that mattered. Instead, Harry had turned him inside out with his soft tentative touches, sweet words and kisses, and filled him up with the most incredible new feelings.

Draco turned over on his side, and exhaled a ragged heart-torn breath. No, this was not what he had expected at all. A Harry who reciprocated his feelings had not been part of his plan - it had been too inconceivable - it was the one thing he had not considered. And now. . . .

He rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. He felt a depth of regret that he had never known before. Because even with these incredibly wonderful new feelings he was experiencing, still, at the very center of it all, lived the terrifying knowledge of what he had planned for his father. And that meant he had very little time left to be with Harry, to love him. More than anything, Draco wanted Harry to know that he loved him, before the inevitable ending came. His mind shied away from this - from the knowledge of what he knew his father would do. He had known from the first the terrible price that would have to be paid. No, he couldn't think about that. It was not possible to stop what was going to happen. It was the only choice I had, he thought. But before I give him up, I want to hold him, touch him . . . love him. I just want him to know how much I love him. I just want him to love me back. Draco's thoughts turned over and over in his mind, and it was a long time before he finally fell asleep. I just need him to love me back. . . .

* * *

Harry literally ran all the way back to the Gryffindor common room. He felt excited and wound up with emotions, and running felt good. By the time he got to the portrait hole, he was completely out of breath, and had to lean against the wall panting, before he could say the password. The Fat Lady had her hair up in curlers and was eyeing him with sleepy annoyance. He realized this was the second night in a row he had had to wake her up to get in the tower. He put on his best apologetic smile, and whispered, "Tapioca pudding."

As he stepped through the portrait hole, he smiled and shook his head. They had decided to let Neville think of the passwords this year, because he always had so much trouble remembering them. This one was actually the most complicated one they'd had so far, because Neville's passwords had turned out to be a list of his favorite desserts, and the early ones had simply been things like "Cake" and "Pie" and "Cookie." "Ice cream" had been his first venture into a two-word password. Harry grinned as he bolted up the stairs to his dorm room two at a time. They had all teased Neville, but nobody really minded.

He opened the door to his room as quietly as possible, and peeked in. It was dark, everyone was in bed, hopefully asleep. Harry took a moment to slow his breathing, then slipped through the door. He tiptoed toward his bed. He heard all four of his roommates sit up in bed simultaneously. Then Dean lit his lamp, and the sudden light caught Harry in the center of the room, only half-way to his bed. Harry looked around at his four friends and sighed. "Sorry, guys," he said. "I didn't mean to wake everybody up." He walked the rest of the way across the room and sat down on his bed.

"You didn't wake us up, Harry," said Dean.

"No," added Seamus, "we were waiting up for you."

"Harry, are you all right?" asked Ron. "You've been acting so strange today, and then no one could find you all evening."

"Yeah," said Neville. "We were really getting worried, Harry. We thought maybe You-Know-Who had kidnapped you."

"We did not think that," said Dean, with a laugh.

"Well, I did," said Neville, in a small voice.

"Ha!" Seamus broke in with a low snicker. "He's been off kissing somebody, that's where he's been."

There was a second of startled silence. "Oh, go on, Seamus," said Ron, rising to Harry's defense. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Well, just look at him," said Seamus, grinning. "I know that look - he's all rumpled, and pink around the mouth, and his shirt's untucked. In fact, I think his shirt's unbuttoned all the way down, and there - look, there's the proof - " Seamus chuckled. "Harry, you look like a bloody rose . . . with a sunburn!"

And it was true. Though he was still wearing his vest, which covered his shirt, when Harry looked down, he saw that he was obviously unbuttoned from collar to shirttail, and he blushed bright red. When had that happened? God, Draco had had those gentle, agile hands all over him, and Harry had been far too lost in the sea of sensations Draco was rousing in him, to have sorted out any details. He had never even noticed his shirt being unbuttoned.

"Harry? Are you seeing someone?" asked Ron with concern. "Is that what's been going on today?"

Harry ran one hand through his hair, which made part of it stick up. "I've been playing chess with someone in another house," he said, trying to think of an explanation without lying. "It just got late - "

Seamus snorted. "It must have been Spin-the-Bottle-Chess then, Harry. Those marks on your neck weren't made by any chessmen I've ever seen."

Harry groaned. He didn't feel at all like being teased about this. This was serious. It might have happened in one day, but six years of suppressed emotion and intense interaction had led up to this day, and now all his hurt, his longing for someone, his loneliness, all of it had been swept away by Draco's gentle loving. He just wanted to lie in bed, in the dark, and drown in the memories of what had happened tonight. In peace.

"Who is it, Harry?" asked Neville.

"What house are they in?" asked Dean.

"Is it somebody we know?" asked Neville.

"Oh, Saints preserve us," said Seamus, with a conspiratorial grin to Dean and Neville. "Now we're going to have to put up with two of them going on about their girlfriends and getting all serious on us."

"Oh, shut up, Seamus," snapped Ron. "I do not 'go on' about Hermione."

"You do so," retorted Seamus. "Just the other day, you - "

"Stop it!" yelled Harry. He looked around at his stunned roommates. "Yes, I am seeing someone! And it is serious! Very serious," he said more quietly. "I just don't want to talk about it yet, okay?"

A subdued chorus of "Sorry," and "Sorry, Harry," came from several points around the room.

Then Seamus spoke up, meekly. "Was there kissing, Harry?"

"Oh, geez, Seamus," said Harry. Then he sighed. "Okay. Yes. Quite a lot, if you must know." And then he had to bite his lip to keep from grinning at the memories this conjured and he blushed again.

"I knew it," crowed Seamus. "I can spot post-kissy-face a mile away. Won't you give us a hint, Harry? Who's the lucky girl?"

"Okay, that's enough, Seamus," said Ron. "Leave him alone. He'll tell us who it is when he's ready."

Harry looked gratefully over at Ron.

Ron was looking back at him with a very puzzled expression. "Right Harry?"

"Of course I will," said Harry sincerely. "You guys are my best friends. I promise you'll be the first to know - " Just as soon as I'm sure myself, he added silently. "But right now, it's late and I'd like to get some sleep." He started getting undressed for bed, and Dean put out his lamp. A soft chorus of "Good night," ran around the dark room, punctuated at the end by a barely audible smooching noise coming from the direction of Seamus' bed, and a loud "Shhhh!" from Ron's.

Harry climbed into bed, feeling a little guilty, and also a little amused. They had all assumed he'd been with a girl - and for now he had no intention of correcting that assumption - it would throw them off for a little while, until he and Draco were ready to tell them the truth. Oh, Draco was such a delicious secret! And being with him tonight had been so incredible. He never would have imagined that they could talk and laugh together as they had last night and tonight. Or that Draco Malfoy could be so gentle, or so tender, and would draw such deep, equally tender responses from him. A great sense of comfort pooled up in Harry's heart, and he had the most wonderful shivery happy feeling inside him. He lay awake for a little while, smiling in the dark, letting the memories and the feelings wash over him, and when he fell asleep, he slept better than he had in a long time. Because for the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to tomorrow.