Checkmate

Did I know where he'd lead me to?
Did I plan
Doing all of this for the love of a man?
Well I let it happen anyhow
And what I'm feeling now
Has no easy explanation
Reason plays no part
Heaven help my heart

Lyrics from "Heaven Help My Heart" from Chess by Benny Anderson, Tim Rice and Björn Ulvaeus

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Harry and Draco exchanged several subtle glances and secret smiles from across the Great Hall. But Harry quickly realized that he was going to have to be very careful where he looked, and for how long, because Seamus had him under close surveillance. Seamus was determined to discover the identity of Harry's mystery girlfriend. Harry had some fun after that, letting his gaze linger longingly on several girls he didn't know at the other house tables, and only in between them, on a certain blond Slytherin.

After breakfast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the Great Hall together for Potions class. They were almost down to the dungeons, when Harry was suddenly, and quite rudely, jostled from behind. At the same time, he felt an affectionate caress against his side. "Must you block the hall, Potter," said a familiar drawling voice in his left ear, "and make everyone else late as well?"

Harry dodged sideways as Draco elbowed past him. "Missed me, Malfoy!" taunted Harry, as Draco swept ahead. He put a hint of a question in the teasing words that he knew only Draco would catch.

They were just outside the door to the Potions classroom when Draco whirled around. His eyes met Harry's with a devious glint. "I want a word with you, Potter," he said. "Alone."

"Harry, no way," warned Ron seriously. "Don't listen to him. Don't you remember what happened yesterday?"

Harry stopped right in front of Draco, and let his bookbag drop to the floor. Oh God, yes, I remember what happened yesterday. He leaned up against the wall facing Draco, his eyes riveted on the Slytherin. "Go to class, Ron," he said. "I can take care of him - "

"Harry," said Hermione firmly, in a tone that Harry and Ron now jokingly referred to as The Head Girl Voice. "This is not a good idea." She looked sharply at Draco. "Neither of you can afford to get in trouble again for fighting."

Harry tore his eyes from Draco's for a second to look at his two friends, but before he could say anything, Draco turned to face Hermione. Harry glanced back at Draco and had to stifle a grin. The look of absolute innocence on Draco's face could have graced an angel.

"Trust me, Miss Granger," said Draco, quite solemnly, as he laid his hand meaningfully over his prefect badge. He cut his eyes over to Harry for a split second. "On my honor as a prefect," he continued, facing Hermione again with the most perfect expression of purity and goodness on his face that Harry had ever seen, "my intentions concerning Mr. Potter do not even remotely resemble fighting."

Harry choked back a laugh, then grinned at Draco, unable to cover up his reaction to that statement.

"Surely there's no rule against me talking to Potter, here," continued Draco, turning his innocent gaze on Harry, ". . . assuming he's agreeable."

Harry was aware that Hermione had turned to look at him, but he was caught up in Draco's eyes, unable to look away from the other boy, who was looking back at him now, grinning too, one dashing eyebrow up, an expression of devilish amusement replacing the cherubic innocence of only a second ago. God, he is so gorgeous. As coolly as he could manage, Harry said, "I don't think it would hurt for me to hear what he has to say."

"Well . . ." said Hermione, looking from Harry to Draco and back as if they were a puzzle she was trying to work out. "If you're sure, Harry."

"Hermione!" interrupted Ron, shocked. "You can't tell me you're actually going to believe that prefect honor crap - "

"I'll be fine," said Harry to Hermione, his eyes still locked with Draco's. "You and Ron go on to class. And," he said pointedly, "you should hurry, or you'll be late." They went, but mostly because Hermione was forcefully pushing a reluctant, protesting Ron into the classroom.

As soon as they disappeared through the doorway, Draco dropped his bookbag and took the one step toward Harry that closed the gap between them. The impish amusement was gone from Draco's eyes, replaced with mesmerizing promises of warm affection. "I had the most wonderful dream last night, Harry," he said softly, as he reached up and lightly rested his hands on Harry's shoulders. He pushed Harry gently back against the wall. "You were in my room." He smiled. "It seemed very real."

"It was real," whispered Harry with an answering smile. He leaned back against the wall, feeling suddenly glad for that support.

Draco leaned his head forward and nuzzled up against the side of Harry's face. "The word," he murmured in Harry's ear, "I wanted to say to you is . . . yes."

Harry felt a feathery kiss, then teeth lightly teased his ear lobe. He shivered as he wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and pulled their bodies tightly together. "Yes, what?" he whispered.

Draco arched back a little to look in Harry's eyes again. He grinned. "Yes . . . I missed you."

Harry laughed quietly. "Me too," he said, his eyes locked on gray velvet. He ran his hands up Draco's back, one hand reaching up to tangle in Draco's hair, to pull him into a kiss. He felt Draco's hands slide up on both sides of his neck to cradle his face just under his jaw. Then their lips met, and Draco seemed to melt into him. Draco tasted like maple syrup and hot chocolate, and Harry got so lost in the tender passion he felt, and in the sweet warm flavor of that kiss that he never heard the footsteps in the corridor.

But Draco suddenly broke away from him and turned his head to look down the hall. "Quick! Get your books!" he whispered urgently.

Harry looked down the hall as he reached down for his bookbag and gasped. Snape was bearing down on them fast, his eyes narrowed to slits of lethal fury.

Within an instant both Harry and Draco had grabbed up their books and vanished into the classroom, with Snape one sweeping, murderous step behind them. As Harry dropped rather frantically into his seat, he was aware that everyone was watching him and Draco rush in. His heart was pounding, he was alarmed by what Snape might say or do, but he also had to bite down on his lower lip to keep from laughing. He had never felt quite so exhilarated. Ron caught his eye with a questioning expression, but Harry shook his head, his attention riveted on Snape. The professor was now standing at the front of the classroom with his arms crossed over his chest, his robes gathered around him like the closed wings of some monstrous malevolent bat. He glared first at Draco and then at Harry.

"Malfoy. Potter," he said finally, in a low cold furious voice. "You will both remain after class." Then he glared slowly around the room. "Well, what are you all staring at?" he hissed. "Get out your books! This is a classroom, not a stage show!"

There was an immediate flurry of book-getting, and Harry relaxed slightly. Draco looked back at him for one brief glance, his one raised eyebrow saying it all. They would have to wait until after class to find out exactly what Snape had seen.

Harry had spent extra time on his Potions homework the night before, which was a good thing, because though Snape pointedly ignored Draco, the professor drilled Harry with questions constantly during the entire class period, seemingly intent on tripping him up. But Harry was able to answer every question right. Draco, at one point, turned around and flashed him a surreptitious grin. By the end of class, though, Snape was seething, and after class, when Harry stood next to Draco in front of the professor's desk, he was a little afraid he had only made things worse.

But Snape, standing like a pillar of wrath behind his desk, now completely ignored Harry, and immediately fixed his fierce attention on Draco. He leaned forward, his hands flat on his desk, his black eyes narrowed with anger. "Mr. Malfoy," he raged, "as Head of your House, I spoke to Professor Dumbledore about yesterday's incident between you and Mr. Potter, and the headmaster has now made me aware of certain agreements you have with him. Specifically that you would not fight with Mr. Potter. But this morning I find you obviously breaking that promise! Do you not understand the seriousness of this situation!? You could be expelled!!" Snape turned his furious stare on Harry. "And you! Potter, if I find out that you deliberately provoked him - "

Draco exchanged a puzzled glance with Harry. Could it be that Snape had not actually seen what they were doing? "Sir," he said evenly, "I am taking my promise to Professor Dumbledore quite seriously. I have not been fighting with Potter."

"Then how do you explain what I saw this morning," sputtered Snape, livid with exasperation. "You had him back against the wall, your hands on his throat -"

Draco looked at Snape for a long moment. He set his bookbag down. "I really don't want to explain it," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "You'll have to trust me, sir. We were not fighting."

Snape's voice got very icy. "How can I trust you," he hissed, "when you are telling me something that completely contradicts what I saw with my own eyes. This is too important. I will not have you getting expelled over some trivial incident with Potter. I demand an explanation!"

"But this is a private matter between me and - "

"NOW!"

Draco turned to Harry, clearly aggravated, and raised one eyebrow in elegant apology.

Harry sighed, and nodded slightly in resignation.

Draco turned back to Snape. He glared at the professor. "All right, then," he said. "If you must know, I was kissing him."

"Malfoy," spit out Snape, "I am warning you for the last time. Do not joke with me about this!"

"It's not a JOKE!" said Draco, totally exasperated. He turned and looked at Harry.

Harry saw a mischievous calculating sparkle blossom suddenly in Draco's eyes. He hardly had time to register the warning that look signaled, before Draco stepped over to him, took his face between his hands, and was kissing him very thoroughly. For a second, Harry stood stunned and immobile, but the lips on his were warm, insistent, and irresistible. He dropped his bookbag, wrapped his arms around Draco and kissed him back. Somewhere in the background, he was vaguely aware that, for a moment, it sounded like someone was strangling.

When Draco and Harry finally pulled apart, Harry caught hold of Draco's hand and laced his fingers with Draco's. He felt his face flush as Draco's eyes lingered on his for a moment before they turned to face the professor. Snape was sitting down, having done so quite suddenly, and his hands were balled into tight fists on top of his desk.

For several seconds, Snape just stared from Draco to Harry and back, his face rigid with shocked incomprehension. It looked like a train wreck had happened in his brain. "Are you two quite finished?" he rasped finally, in an enraged whisper.

"Sorry, Professor," said Draco with perfect composure. "I did try to tell you it was private."

Harry was fighting a losing battle with the grin that so wanted to break out on his face.

Snape rose up out of his chair in fury. He seemed to tower over Harry and Draco. The pillar of wrath was back. "It most certainly was private," he said in a vicious, infuriated tone. "And as such, it was completely inappropriate behavior for the public corridor, and I certainly didn't need to be subjected to it either."

"Well, you didn't believe me when I told you, sir," said Draco, a bit of his old smirk lurking around his mouth.

"Oh . . . shut up, Malfoy," snapped Snape. He speared both of them in turn with an outraged glare. "If I even hear of any repeat performance in public, I will take so many points away from both your Houses, Hufflepuff will win the House Cup! Now get out of here before I give you both detention!"

"If you do, sir," said Draco, "can we serve it together?"

"NO! GET OUT!!"

They grabbed up their books and ran.

"AND STOP THAT GRINNING THIS INSTANT, POTTER!"

Snape's last words echoed after them as they fled down the hall. They ran full out, almost racing each other, stopping finally, laughing and out of breath, at the place where they had to split up to go to different classes.

Harry had to pull his glasses off for a moment to wipe tears out of his eyes. "Oh, Draco," he said, "I don't think you should have done that. He did like you."

Draco just laughed. "I'm glad you're not mad, Harry. I really wasn't sure how you'd react."

Harry shook his head. "God, I loved it," he said grinning. "And he hated me, anyway. I had nothing to lose. I just hope he doesn't hate you now too, by association."

Draco came close and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "He deserved it for the way he was picking on you today. Besides, he'll get over it," he said, with another laugh. "That was just the last thing in the world he expected to see, and an opportunity I couldn't resist."

"It was bloody brilliant," said Harry laughing again. "He looked like he'd swallowed a pufferfish wrong way down. But I can't believe we didn't get in trouble - what if he tells - "

"Ha! Who in the world is he going to tell?"

"Er, Dumbledore?"

Draco grinned. "I'm pretty sure Dumbledore already knows a bit of what's going on with us, Harry. After all, I was holding hands with you right in front of him yesterday."

Harry looked a little startled. "I didn't think he saw that."

Draco laughed. "Of course he did. Why did you think that stuff kept falling off his desk?"

"Gravity?" said Harry with a sheepish grin.

"Idiot," said Draco affectionately. He slid his hand up to Harry's neck and toyed with a stray lock of Harry's hair. "You were really good in class today. What do you have next?"

"Advanced Meds with Madam Pomfrey."

"Didn't know there was such a thing," said Draco, a puzzled expression in his gray eyes.

"Er," said Harry, "well . . . there's not actually. I'm the only one in it, and I - " Harry stopped short, suddenly acutely embarrassed. "I . . . well . . . hardly anyone knows about it."

Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. "A secret, Harry?"

"No," said Harry quickly. "It's just that . . . I don't usually talk about it much."

Draco looked at Harry thoughtfully, then shook his head at Harry's worried expression. "Then I promise I won't ask. But . . . do you like it?"

"I love it," said Harry, relieved at Draco's somewhat unexpected willingness not to press him on it. "It's my favorite subject. I even like doing the homework."

"Hmm," said Draco, still regarding Harry intently. Then his eyes softened. "Speaking of homework - I was hoping you might come earlier tonight, Harry. After dinner. We could do our homework together."

Harry's eyes lit up. "I'd like that."

Draco smiled, and leaned close to Harry's ear. "I'd kiss you," he said in a conspiratorial whisper, "but you never know who's watching around here, and I really couldn't bear it if Hufflepuff won the House Cup."

"Save it for me, then," whispered Harry back. "For tonight."

Draco gazed at Harry, his eyes kindling. "I definitely will," he said, softly. He tilted his head slightly, and raised one pale elegant brow. "It's my move next, you know." He gave Harry's hair a playful tug, then let his hand slip away, trailing his fingers slowly, lightly down Harry's jawline. "See you tonight, then," he added, and with a swirl of robes, turned and walked away down the corridor.

Harry watched him go for a moment, wondering if his heart was still beating hard from running or if it had something to do with that goodbye. Then he turned and rushed off to the hospital wing, hoping to have some excuse and an apology for being late ready for Madam Pomfrey by the time he got there.

Later, at lunch in the Great Hall, Ron was almost beside himself from the suspense of not knowing what had happened to Harry after Potions class. Hermione, on the other hand, said nothing, but simply studied Harry, a very thoughtful expression in her brown eyes - eyes that every now and then glanced over to the Slytherin table, to focus equally thoughtfully on a certain blond Slytherin. A certain blond Slytherin whose gaze, she noticed, tended to stray quite often in Harry's direction. But Harry didn't see this, since Ron was impatiently pestering him for the details of what Snape had done.

All Harry could say was that Snape had yelled at him, and that he wasn't really in trouble. Harry did wish he could tell Ron what Draco had done - Ron would have so loved to see that look of undisguised utter incomprehension on Snape's face - that is, if Ron even noticed due to having an identical reaction. No, Ron would just have to miss out on this one. But Harry realized that he wouldn't be able to keep this secret much longer from his best friend. And telling him was not going to be easy.

* * *

Seamus poked his head in the door of the steamy bathroom, for what was probably the eighth time. He grinned at Harry, who was standing in front of the mirror, comb in hand and a frown on his face.

For Harry, it was like being tormented by a bloody cuckoo clock. "Get out of here!" he said, both annoyed and amused. "You're not helping!" Harry had run upstairs after dinner to take a quick shower, had changed into his nicest shirt and best pair of jeans, and was now standing in front of the mirror, unsuccessfully trying to tame his unruly, just-washed hair.

Seamus batted his eyes. "Ooooh, Harry, you look sooo pretty."

Harry glared at him, then grabbed up a soaking wet towel and threw it at him. But Seamus pulled the door shut as a shield, disappearing for a moment. The towel hit the door with a sloppy thud and dropped to the floor.

Seamus poked his head back in. "You look great, Harry," he said, still grinning. "And you know, if last night was any indication, whatever you do to your hair now is just going to get messed up again anyway." He stepped into the bathroom and took Harry's comb out of his hand. "Want me to have a go?"

"No!" said Harry, snatching the comb away and setting it down on the far side of the sink. He took one last critical look in the mirror, then turned to face his friend. "Okay," he said, grinning slyly back at Seamus, "I guess you're right. It probably is just going to get messed up again. Maybe a lot. And maybe somebody else's hair is going to get messed up, too."

Seamus wiggled his eyebrows at Harry suggestively. "And whose hair would that be, Harry?" he coaxed.

Harry stepped past Seamus to the door. He paused for a moment, then in one swift motion, he scooped up the sloppy, wet towel and plopped it over Seamus' head. "Yours, you prat!" He caught one delightful glimpse of Seamus grappling with the wet towel, rivulets of water running down his neck into his collar, as he took off. He barely made it out the door before the colorful Irish cursing started. He raced up to his room to get his books. He stuffed his Invisibility Cloak in his bookbag too, just in case he might need it on the way back, then hurried down to the common room to go out.

He was surprised to see Ron sitting at a table in the deserted common room, studying alone. Harry had already wasted a lot of time getting ready, and he was anxious to go, but he couldn't just walk out without speaking to Ron. So instead of going straight out the portrait hole as he'd intended, he detoured and sat down at the table with his red-haired roommate. "Where's Hermione?" he asked, as Ron looked up. "I didn't expect to see you here by yourself."

Ron pushed his book aside and waved his quill toward the girls' dorm rooms. He had a martyred expression on his face. "She's looking at wedding robes in catalogs with my sister and Lavender and Parvati. I thought we were keeping our engagement secret, but if those girls know. . . . " He ran one hand through his red hair. "Lord, you've never heard such giggling. I had to get far away." Then he grinned. "Going out again, Harry?"

Harry colored slightly, but grinned back. "Yeah, I have a . . . study date."

Ron propped his chin in his hand and studied Harry for a moment. "I haven't seen you look like this in a long time. You look happy. Hermione and I have been worried about you, you know. Is it okay if I tell her you're seeing someone?"

"Okay - but no one else. We don't want this to get out for a while."

"I can't believe you're being so secretive about it, Harry - I mean, can't you at least tell me who it is. I won't tell the other guys."

Harry sighed and looked down at the table. "I can't yet, Ron. I just need to be sure of what I'm feeling this time." He knew Ron and Hermione were sure of how they felt about each other. You could see it when their eyes met. Will Draco and I ever look at each other like that? he wondered. He looked up, hesitated for a moment, then asked, "How did you know you were . . . in love? I thought I was before, but. . . . " I don't want to make the same mistake again.

Ron absently stroked the feather of his quill while he considered the question. "Well, how do you feel now?" he said finally. "Compared to before - "

Harry couldn't keep the smile from his face. "I've never felt anything like this before," he said softly. "This person is smart, and funny . . . and pretty . . . (well, he is) . . . and . . . so. . . ." Harry trailed off. He'd been about to say, so gentle, but was suddenly struck by the absurdity of describing Draco Malfoy like that to Ron Weasley.

Ron laughed at him. "And, I take it from the look you had on your face last night, that the kissing was pretty good too."

"Ron," said Harry in a lowered voice, meeting Ron's teasing blue eyes earnestly. "I meant it last night when I said I was serious about this. Last night was the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me in a relationship, and that had nothing to do with the kissing. Which was spectacular," he added, blushing in spite of his most fervent wish not to.

"You do have it bad, don't you?" said Ron, grinning and shaking his head. "But Harry, when you're in love, you know it. You don't have to think about it."

"Hmmm," said Harry, slowly standing up, looking pensive. He shouldered his bookbag. Then he grinned. "Wedding robes, Ron!?! God!"

"Oh," moaned Ron, dropping his face into his hands. "Don't remind me. When I proposed, I had no idea of all the stuff that's involved in planning a wedding."

Harry snickered. "I imagine it was more like your wedding night you had on your mind, wasn't it?" Ron still had his face in his hands, but Harry saw his ears turn almost red enough to match his hair.

"Aren't you late, or something, Harry?" muttered Ron from behind his hands.

"Yes, very," laughed Harry. He turned to start toward the portrait hole, but just then he heard running footsteps on the stairs, and Ginny bounced into the room.

She smiled at both boys, excitement shining in her bright brown eyes. "Oh Ronnie-kins," she cooed teasingly at her older brother. "Hermione wants you upstairs to look at something." She turned and looked up at Harry. "Hi, Harry," she continued brightly. "I'm sure Hermione won't mind if you come up and look too. It's sooo pretty." She sighed dramatically. "I just love weddings."

"Harry can't come," said Ron in a disgruntled tone, as he stood up. "He has a date."

Ginny's eyes widened and she looked at Harry with avid interest. "Oh, wow." She smiled. "That's great, Harry. Who is it?"

Harry looked from Ginny to Ron and shook his head. "Some secret keeper you are, Ron," he said, with a laugh.

Ron looked sheepish for a moment. "Oh well," he said. "She's family, that doesn't count."

"What!?" said Ginny. "Why is it a secret?"

"I just need time to be sure about this, before it gets out all over the school," said Harry, and he saw the expression in Ginny's eyes change to understanding.

"I won't say a word, Harry," said Ginny. "I promise." She cast a wickedly mischievous look at her brother. "Not like some people." She stuck her tongue out at Ron. Ron pretended to swat at her head and she laughed.

"Thanks Gin," said Harry, gratefully. He knew she would keep her word. She had never pestered him for the details of his break-up when school started back, the way Ron and Hermione had at first. Instead, she had simply been around, supportive, understanding, and cheerful. She had been the one who had actually consoled him the most. He had even wondered then if something might happen between them, but it hadn't. The crush she had had on him had deepened into loving friendship. And as for his feelings for her, she was very dear to him, like all of the Weasleys, she was as Ron had just stated, family. "I'll tell you as soon as I can," he said smiling down at her.

"I'll be breathless with anticipation," she teased.

Harry laughed. He turned away and took a couple of steps toward the exit, then turned back as Ginny called out.

"Hey," she said. "Have either of you seen Seamus. I wanted to borrow his Herbology notes."

Harry gave her a wide grin. "Last time I saw him, he was upstairs in the bathroom. He was having a little, er, trouble with his hair." Then he turned to Ron. "And don't you guys wait up for me tonight!" he added. He went out the portrait hole and stood still for a moment. I do feel happy, he thought. Then he took off at a jog. He was much later than he'd meant to be.

* * *

Within seconds after Harry knocked on Draco's door, Draco looked out, his expression an odd mixture of hope and aggravation. "Harry," he said, his expression resolving into relief. "It's a good thing it's you this time." He opened the door wider to let Harry come in.

Harry stepped into the room, noticing that Draco was wearing black jeans again, this time with a charcoal gray turtleneck. He was barefooted again too.

"There have been more people up here this evening," said Draco as he closed the door firmly behind Harry. "First Snape came up to speak to me again about this morning, and then Granger had a discipline problem with some kid in Ravenclaw that she wanted to talk about."

Harry looked at Draco in surprise. Hermione was up here?

"And then those girls came up," continued Draco. "I swear, if you had been one of those girls again. . . ."

"One of those girls?" asked Harry, puzzled. He walked over to the chair he had sat in last night and set his bookbag down. "What girls?"

Draco followed Harry over to the chair. He looked both amused and irritated. "Oh wait 'til you hear this," he said, with a short sarcastic laugh. "It involves you, too. There are two sixth year girls in my House - and I don't even know their bloody names - but evidently they saw us in the hall together yesterday morning, and decided we looked like perfect dates for the Yule Ball."

Harry groaned. Not the Yule Ball again. "I remember them," he said flatly. "The gigglers. I saw them talking to you at lunch yesterday, too."

"Yeah, well, they came up here tonight, as well. They think we can double-date! I had already told Pansy I was not taking her to the Ball this year - so I think for revenge, she must have told them I was available."

Harry looked up at that, and met Draco's rather annoyed gaze. He reached up and lightly brushed the long blond fringe back from the other boy's eyes, and saw the annoyance evaporate as Draco smiled, his eyes going warm at Harry's touch. Draco was looking at him again in that way that sent fluttery sensations stirring inside him, and turned his knees to jelly. Available!? Harry suddenly knew he didn't want those eyes to look at anyone else the way they were looking at him just now. "You are so not available, my dear," said Harry softly, and then his breath caught in his throat as Draco's eyes ignited into molten silver at his words.

Draco stood quite still, his eyes locked with Harry's, those silver eyes reflecting his own and Harry's surprise at the unexpected word like a mirror between them. Then he leaned into Harry, threw his arms around Harry's neck, and dropped his head onto Harry's shoulder, his face buried between his arm and Harry's neck.

Wow, thought Harry, quite surprised at himself. Did I really just call him dear? He smoothed the hair down the back of Draco's head and held him tight. He could feel Draco's heart pounding. Oh, yes, he thought then, with a quiet thrill. I can turn him into jelly, too. He turned his head and nuzzled into Draco's silky hair. They stood that way for a long moment, then Harry felt, as much as heard, the words that Draco whispered against his skin.

"Do you have any idea what you just did to me?"

"Yes," Harry whispered back. "And I like it - knowing I can do that to you."

"No one's ever called me that before."

Harry rubbed one hand gently up and down Draco's back for a minute, then reached up and ruffled the other boy's hair mischievously. "I could call you Poopsie-kins, if you'd rather," he whispered.

There was a second of silence, then a muffled gagging noise in response. Draco lifted his head to look at Harry, unsuccessfully trying to hide a smile with an expression of horrified insult. "There is no way in hell I'm answering to that," he said. Then he raised one eyebrow, and the smile turned into a wicked grin. "Or perhaps you fancy being my ickle Dumplin-wumplin, Harry?"

"Oh, God. Screw that!" said Harry laughing.

Draco laughed too, and then his eyes softened. He reached up, carefully took off Harry's glasses, and set them on the table next to the chess set. "You asked me to save this for you this morning - 'til tonight. . . . " Then he leaned in and kissed Harry slowly and tenderly, the way he had that first night in the corridor.

"Oh," said Harry, when Draco pulled away, his voice breathless and warm, but also teasing. "Do you have any idea what you just did to me?"

Draco put his hands on Harry's shoulders and shoved him playfully down into the chair. "I hope so," he said with a delighted smile. Then he walked over to his desk and sat down. He turned around in his chair for a moment, watching Harry put his glasses back on and lean down to get his books out of his bag. Then he grinned. "Hey," he said. "D-W."

Harry looked up from his bookbag, frowning slightly, puzzled. Then he snorted and rolled his eyes. "I am not answering to that," he said.

Draco snickered. "Hurry up with that homework. We have a game to play."

Harry grinned back at him. "Then stop distracting me." He paused for effect. "P-K."

They looked at each other for a second and then both broke up, dissolving helplessly into laughter. Finally, they turned to their books, but the next few minutes were interrupted by several intermittent spells of involuntary giggling.

In a short time, though, they settled into studying, and Harry looked up now and then to glance at Draco. He liked it here, in this room, with the fire burning cozily in the grate beside him. It was comfortable and calm here, not like the often frenetic common room or the dormitories. And Draco's presence was oddly comfortable and calming too; Harry liked hearing the quiet sounds of Draco turning pages and the soft scratching of his quill on parchment as he wrote. Harry found that for once he was actually able to concentrate on what he was reading.

Harry had finished everything but his Potions homework, and was stuck trying to understand the complex instructions for a list of potions ingredients that made no sense to him, when Draco pushed his chair back and started packing up his books and parchments. Then Draco walked over to the side of the table and stood looking down, studying the chessboard. Harry looked up from his book to watch him.

Draco turned his head and raised his eyebrows at Harry. "Nearly done?" he asked.

"Almost," said Harry irritably. "I just have Potions left - but I don't get it at all. It's like a puzzle or something - "

Draco smiled knowingly and came to sit on the arm of Harry's chair. He leaned in to look at Harry's book with him. "It's not really a puzzle," he said. "It's just that some of the more advanced potions take precautions to be sure you know what you're doing before you can make it. Some of the really dangerous potions do use puzzles or riddles, but for this one, you just have to know potions ingredients really well."

Harry shook his head. "Well that's the problem. I've never even heard of these ingredients." He looked up at Draco. "I suppose you had no trouble with it."

Draco laughed. "Well, no," he admitted. "This one was fairly simple."

"That figures," muttered Harry. "Then would you please explain it to me?"

"Maybe," said Draco with an impish grin. "What do I get if I do?"

"The pleasure of watching me provoke Snape again by knowing all the answers in class," said Harry, grinning back. Then he said more seriously, "And the satisfaction of knowing you kept me from failing Potions this term. I really need your help."

Draco staged a sigh. "Well . . . I don't know," he said with an air of indifference. "That's hardly what I had in mind."

Harry gave him a slightly exasperated look. "Then help me get finished with my homework so you can take your turn in the chess game. Then you can do whatever it is you have in mind."

Draco fixed Harry with that intense mesmerizing jelly-inducing gaze, then slowly grinned. "I think I was going to be doing that anyway," he said in a soft teasing tone.

Harry looked down, blushing slightly.

Draco laughed at him. "Okay," he said relenting. "I'll help." He leaned back in to look at Harry's book again. "To start with," he said, "this is a Hex Mirror Potion. It's related to the Hex Repellent we just studied, except that this potion is supposed to cause any hex directed at the user to reflect back on the sender." Draco looked back at Harry. "Unfortunately, in practice, that's not quite how it works. It's gotten the nickname Spell-Bouncer, because it's actually very unpredictable - there is no way to control how the spells reflect and some very nasty ricochet effects have been reported by duelers who have tried it." He laughed lightly. "In fact, there was one supposed case where both of the duelers had taken it, and the hexes bounced around so much that they took out both seconds and several of the witnesses. It's also pretty tricky to make, and usually requires two people to do it right. The potion itself can be dangerous, possibly even explode, if the ingredients are not prepared and added in the correct order. That's why the precautions are taken with the ingredient names, to be sure a wizard is at a certain level of training before attempting to make it."

"God, Draco, how do you know all that?" said Harry, very impressed. "None of that is in our book."

"I read other books, Harry."

Harry sighed. "Yes, of course you do," he said. "I should have known. Okay. Tell me about the ingredients."

Draco smiled and pulled Harry's book closer. "What you have here is a list of ingredient descriptions instead of a list of ingredient names, like you're used to. You have to know the ingredients well enough to recognize them by their descriptions or main properties before you can do this potion." He pointed to a line on the page. "For example, when it says Spikes of Heart's-Ease, it means foxglove, because that plant blooms in tall spikes and is often used as an ingredient in heart medicines."

"Hmm," said Harry. "I did know that - from my Meds class."

Draco shook his head. "Harry, I don't know how you can like Magical Medicine and not like Potions. It's almost the same thing. Mediwizards have to be good Potions masters, or else they have to work very closely with one."

"It's not the Potions part I like," said Harry. "And most of what I'm studying is, well . . . quite different." He bent his head to read the next ingredient on the list. "Oh, hey, I think I get this one now. It says Optic Orb of Amphibian. Ha - that would be eye of newt!" He looked back up at Draco with a satisfied grin.

"Told you it was simple," said Draco, grinning back. He turned around and slid backwards off the arm of the chair down into Harry's lap, scattering Harry's parchments and knocking his book to the floor.

"Draco! What - I'm not done yet!"

"Sorry. Time's up."

"What time's up?" asked Harry, smiling, leaning his head back against the chair, looking into teasing gray eyes, amused.

"The time that I can stand to stay away and not bother you." Draco's arms slid around Harry's neck. "I never have been able to leave you alone for long, Harry."

Harry chuckled. "I've noticed that," he said, putting his arms around Draco's waist.

For a moment, Draco didn't reply. Then he said, "No, you didn't."

"What are you talking about? I always noticed when you were bothering me - you did it quite a lot."

"I mean, the last three months, you didn't notice when I stopped. I left you alone because Dumbledore made me promise to. It felt like hell to me, Harry. I missed you so much I couldn't sleep. But when I asked you about it, in the hall the other night, you had to think. You hadn't noticed."

Harry looked seriously at Draco, trying to gauge this sudden shift in mood. Harry saw no anger in the other boy's gaze, only something distant, something a little sad. "I would miss you now," said Harry softly.

"Why?" asked Draco. Then he quickly added, "No, don't answer that." He pushed himself away and got up from Harry's lap. He bent down, picked up Harry's Potions text and handed it back to him. Then he stepped over to the chessboard and made a move. "Pawn to A4. Finish your homework, Harry. When you're done, there's something we have to talk about."

Harry watched Draco walk away, over to his window and open it. Then in one quick graceful motion, Draco put his hands on the sill and jumped up to sit on the ledge. He turned to sit sideways on the ledge, pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs and stared out the window. He must do that a lot, thought Harry, recognizing the smooth habit-quality of the action. He looked down at his Potions book and then retrieved his sheets of parchment from the floor. He looked back at Draco. There was something inexpressibly lonely about the way he was sitting there.

Somehow, Harry had never pictured Draco being alone. Hadn't he always had people following him around, especially Crabbe and Goyle? Wasn't he always the center of attention everywhere he went, even if it was negative attention? At least Harry had always thought the Slytherins practically worshipped him. But now, he wondered if any of them had ever really had Draco's attention, had ever touched him. Maybe Draco had always been alone inside, even if surrounded by adoring housemates. Alone and wanting to be with me, thought Harry. "I missed you so much, I couldn't sleep. But you didn't notice." How was he supposed to finish his homework now?

He turned his attention back to his book again anyway, and tried to concentrate. The sooner he got done, the sooner he could find out what this was about. He managed to figure out four more of the ingredients before he came to one that completely stumped him. "Draco?" he said cautiously. The blond head turned toward him slightly. "What's Night Knight Liquefying Liquid?" asked Harry.

"Armadillo bile," said Draco, turning back to look out the window.

"Er," said Harry. "I . . . don't get it. Well, I get that the liquefying liquid is the bile, but not the other part."

Draco shrugged one shoulder, and leaned his head back against the wall. "Armadillos are nocturnal animals," he said in so low a tone that Harry had to strain to hear him. "They have protective plating on their bodies, like a knight in armor."

"Oh," said Harry. "I see . . . I guess . . . thanks. . . ."

Draco simply shrugged again and turned back to look out the window.

Harry managed to struggle through the rest as best he could, his concentration shattered by Draco's distant behavior. Finally, he rolled up his parchment and put his things back into his bookbag. Then, he got up and crossed the room to the window. "I'm done," he said quietly. He leaned against the wall under the window and laid one arm up on the window ledge. Draco pulled his feet back a little to make room for him. God, he even has pretty feet, thought Harry, and he wanted to touch Draco, to reestablish their closeness, if only in a small way. He reached out tentatively and laid one hand lightly over Draco's bare left foot, surprised to feel how warm it was, even though the air coming in the open window was quite chilly. He felt Draco startle at his touch, but he didn't move away. After a second, one of Draco's pale, slender hands moved from his knee, slid down his shin, and came to rest on top of Harry's hand. And, thought Harry, he has beautiful hands. He's elegant down to his bones. Harry looked up to find that Draco was looking down at him and their eyes met. "You said we had to talk. . . ." prompted Harry gently.

Draco's hand slipped away from Harry's, and he pulled his foot out of Harry's light grasp. He jumped down from the ledge, then turned to face Harry. "I'm really tired," he said softly. "I haven't slept well for several nights, and . . . I . . . I'm not used to talking like this with anyone. It's hard and . . . it hurts. I feel wrung out." He paused for a moment, then continued hesitantly. "I thought maybe . . . would you mind . . ."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling suddenly stung, thinking Draco was going to ask him to leave.

". . . if I lie down while we talk. You don't have to . . . you can sit at the end of the bed if you'd rather."

Harry opened his eyes and returned Draco's questioning and somewhat wistful gaze. Draco wasn't asking him to leave? "No, I . . . I wouldn't mind," said Harry, slowly.

Draco turned back to the window and pulled it closed. Then he walked around Harry and went over to his bed. He lay down, scooting over toward the middle, and stretched out on his back, his legs crossed at the ankles, one arm draped loosely across his stomach, the other over his eyes.

Harry stood watching him for a moment, then walked over and sat on the edge of the bed at the foot. He wasn't sure what else to do. He toed his shoes off, pulled his feet up under him so that he was sitting crossed-legged on the bed, and waited.

"Harry . . . I . . ." began Draco, in a low voice. "I did a lot of thinking . . . last night, after you left. What happened last night wasn't what I expected at all. I never expected you to ask me about that kiss, or want to be with me that way . . . not after everything I've done, even if I have changed. I expected you to ask me questions about my father, about the Death Eaters and dark magic." He paused to take a rather ragged breath. "I really don't know much. My father didn't entirely trust my . . . loyalty to his interests, because I kept avoiding things he wanted me to do . . . but whatever you want to know . . . I'll tell."

Oh bloody hell, thought Harry. He was so tired of this subject, of the incessant questions he had to endure from everyone, of the war that had never happened and so hung over them all like a relentless dark cloud, of the way it tainted his future. He was so sick of it all. He closed his eyes and tried to get control over the deep frustration he felt that this should have to come up between them, that it couldn't just be ignored, as he so much wanted to do. Finally he said, "I don't want to know any of it, Draco." His voice was low, his tone drained and a little bitter. "I'm not an informant for the Ministry of Magic. If you have information they can use, you'll have to tell them yourself. I only want to be left out of it - so you can stop worrying - that's one subject I don't intend to bring up, or want to talk about."

Draco slowly sat up, his hair falling unnoticed over his eyes. He frowned at Harry. "But I need to talk about it, Harry. There's no one else for me to tell - and I can't. . . ." He paused and looked down at his hands. Then he said quietly, "Don't you want to - "

"What?" interrupted Harry, suddenly venting his angry frustration. "Be a hero? Get killed fighting Voldemort? No, I don't. I'm sick of it. I don't plan to have any part of it, if I can help it."

Draco looked up at Harry a bit startled, then resolutely continued his sentence. " - to know if I was forced to be one of them? A Death Eater? Branded with the Dark Mark?"

Harry stared at Draco, his anger suddenly washed away by a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked down at Draco's arms, which were, as usual covered. Harry couldn't remember seeing Draco dressed in anything but long sleeved shirts or sweaters. Oh God, no. He looked back up and met Draco's haunted eyes. "Were you?" he whispered. Oh, please not . . . yes.

"Yes."

No no no. Harry suddenly felt many things crash down inside him. More than anything, he felt anger and revulsion to think that Draco's perfect body was disfigured with that cursed mark. If they had done that, he would fight. Harry watched with a growing sense of horror and apprehension as, as if in slow motion, Draco took hold of the bottom hem of his sweater and pulled it up and then off over his head. Draco's arms came slowly out of the sleeves, one at a time, each one in turn, pale, smooth, and unmarked. Harry looked at Draco with relief and then confusion. Had he been joking? But, no, the Slytherin's eyes were still deadly serious.

"It's there," he said very softly. "You just can't see it." He crossed his arms over his bare chest, his hands gripping his own shoulders, and shivered. "It's inside me," he said, his words barely an audible breath, "and. . . ."

Harry stared at Draco, fighting with conflicting emotions, waiting for him continue.

Draco suddenly let his arms drop limply into his lap. "And, we can't go on, Harry . . . I can't go on . . . with what is starting between us, unless I know you know everything that I am. And that you still want me after that." His head dropped down. "If you still want me after that. . . ." He took a deep breath and lifted his head to look at Harry. "Right now, I don't understand why you want to be with me at all."

Harry looked away. I don't understand it either. He pulled his feet out from under him and stood up. He was aware that Draco's questioning eyes followed him, looking up at him through long dusky lashes. He stood with his back to the bed for a moment more, then turned to look at Draco. Sitting partly in the shade of the bed curtains and partly in the glow of the lamplight, Draco seemed sculpted, perfect, and infinitely desirable, his slim body fashioned of ivory and gold, light and shadow. The list of things Harry had told Ron earlier that evening ran through Harry's mind. Funny . . . smart . . . pretty. . . . God, right now, achingly beautiful, was more accurate. But these were all shallow things that had nothing to do with the deep reality that Harry was feeling, a feeling that he wasn't sure he could explain at all. He felt awed quite suddenly by what Draco was offering him. And why did Draco want to be with him? He wasn't as smart, and certainly not, most definitely not, pretty. "I could ask you the same question," he said at last, his tone gentle, not accusing. "I don't really know why you want to be with me either."

Draco groaned and laid back down, his eyes closed, his arms crossed limply over each other across his stomach, his face turned slightly away from Harry, pale hair fanned out over the paler white of the pillow. It seemed a gesture full of weariness, withdrawal, and raw waiting, as the tension of unspoken feelings hung suspended in the air between them like an emptiness that ached to be filled.

Harry looked down at Draco from the side of the bed. Another person, another time, eclipsed his vision briefly, past intruding on the present. For a moment, he was frozen, afraid he would be caught up, helpless in the grip of that pain again, but there was very little power in that image now, and he found it wasn't difficult to shake it off. He couldn't let the fear of being hurt again stand between him and what he should do now. What he knew he would regret forever if he didn't do now. He put one knee up on the bed and leaned forward with his hands on the bed so that he was looking down on Draco. "Draco," he whispered.

Draco turned his head back slowly and opened his eyes.

Harry almost looked away from the loneliness that was swimming in those deep gray eyes. "I can't explain this," he said. "I can't give you reasons. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that I want to be here. That I want to do this." He eased down onto the bed to lie on his back next to Draco, at the same time slipping one arm under Draco's head to circle his shoulders, pulling the other boy gently against him. "And I want to hear whatever you need to tell me."

Draco turned onto his side and allowed himself to be drawn into Harry's embrace. He fitted himself into Harry's side, his shoulder under Harry's arm, and laid his head on Harry's shoulder.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, and his breath caught as his hands slid across the bare skin of Draco's back, skin that was warm and satiny soft under his touch. He reached up and smoothed the hair down the back of Draco's head, and felt Draco sigh and relax into him. He felt Draco's hand move to unbutton his shirt, starting at the collar and working down, pressing each button down against him for a second, holding it still until he could work it loose using only one hand. Then that warm hand was sliding inside his shirt, to rest over his collarbone, gentle fingers caressing the curve of his shoulder, the hollow of his throat.

"Harry?" whispered Draco. "There's something I need to know."

Harry turned his head so that his lips brushed Draco's hair. "What's that?" he whispered back.

"Last night, you acted like nothing had ever been wrong between us. But we both know I've done and said a lot of very hurtful things. How can you just ignore that - how can you act like they never happened?"

Harry was silent for a moment, thinking. Draco was right, he had completely ignored the past between them. "I don't know," he said slowly, "but, somehow, and I guess it was while I was thinking about you in Binns' class yesterday morning, when I finally realized that you had meant that kiss, that you had meant everything you had told me that night in the hall, it was like none of that past stuff mattered any more."

Draco shifted slightly, pressing his face into Harry's neck. "I'm just afraid," he said very softly, "that sometime, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week or next year, you'll remember something that I did, and you'll change your mind about me again."

Harry hugged him and smiled. "No, I don't think that's going to happen. If I did that, I'd have to change my mind about being with you like this, and . . . I really like this." Harry tilted his head and laid his cheek against the top of Draco's head. "Actually, it's funny, but this is the only thing that upset me. I was completely freaked out at first, that I was feeling attracted to you. But maybe we've always had these feelings, and were too young to know what it meant - so we reacted by wanting to beat the crap out of each other. I don't know - I always felt so frustrated with you, because you weren't what I wanted you to be, because I couldn't like you."

"And I was hurt that you didn't like me."

"So it makes sense, I guess, that all that frustration and hurt turned into anger between us. I even really hated you for a while - after what you said about Cedric on the train after he died."

"God, Harry, it was a miracle you weren't killed with him. When Dumbledore made that announcement, when I realized how close you had come to dying too, I was so shocked I couldn't stand. I remember being vaguely aware that a lot of people at my table copied me and didn't stand either, and I was grateful at the time because it let me cover up my reaction."

Draco rose up on one elbow and looked down at Harry. "That's why I said what I said on the train," he explained quietly. "I was scared for you, Harry. I didn't want you to be killed. But I didn't want anyone to know that. So I thought I could come to your compartment and sneer at you and your friends the way I always did, act like I didn't care . . . but I couldn't keep it up. I was furious with you for picking the wrong side, for putting yourself in such danger by siding with the very people that would be the first targets. I kept thinking that if you had been my friend instead, you would be safe."

He sighed and laid back down, settling back against Harry's side, then sliding down a bit until his head was resting on Harry's chest. "It was after that, over that summer and later," he said after a minute, "that I first started to understand that maybe I was feeling more about you than I knew before. It's also when I started seeing my father differently. He changed too, after Voldemort came back. And I started to see that maybe I was the one who had picked the wrong side." Draco moved his hand deeper under Harry's shirt. "I had to be very careful though, not to let him see that." He was silent for a long moment. "It's your move, Harry," he said softly.

Harry tightened his arms around Draco and thought for a bit. "Bishop to D6," he said finally. "Tell me what you meant about the Dark Mark, why you said you have it inside you."

"Because it's why I was born," said Draco in a flat scornful tone. "It's the future I've been given no choice in. I was supposed to be the perfect little Lucius Malfoy duplicate, to carry on his life, his plans. My father's sole purpose for my life was to have me become a Death Eater. Ever since I can remember, my father has talked about it, described the ceremony, told me countless times how I would have to act, how I must not dare show fear, or react to the pain. Since Voldemort came back, he's tested me constantly, tried to get me used to pain, so that I wouldn't embarrass him in front of the Dark Lord."

"What do you mean, Draco? He hit you?"

"Oh no," said Draco, with a sharp bitter laugh. "He would never do anything so crude as to actually touch me. Ever had the Cruciatus Curse done on you, Harry?"

"Yes," said Harry, numbly. Oh God. "Voldemort did, twice. God, Draco, your own father did that to you?"

"A lot more than twice. My father was always too busy to fuss with me much. He allowed me to be spoiled, laughed when I terrorized the house-elves. He made sure I knew what was expected of a Malfoy, demanded I make the best grades, but he didn't take much active interest in doing anything with me. But he could also be intolerant and unpredictable, and casting a forbidden curse on me was sometimes his idea of a parlor joke, or he would become enraged over something trivial and cast that on me as punishment. After Voldemort came back, though, he started with the Dark Mark training. And it doesn't matter, Harry, how many times you feel that bloody curse. You can never, ever, get used to it."

"But what about your mother, Draco. Surely she - "

"Didn't know, didn't care - I have no idea. To be fair, she probably did care when I was small. I have some bits of memories that are nice. But in the last few years my mother has been . . . well, indifferent to everything. I know it will sound horrible, and I don't mean it that way, Harry, but sometimes, in the last two years I have wished I were you - that it was my parents that were dead instead of yours."

Harry couldn't think of anything to say. This was beyond horrible. He lay still, holding Draco as tightly as he could, letting silence, and some distance from what had been said, settle around them. Finally, he whispered, "I'm so sorry." He felt Draco's arm tighten against him, a slight hug in response, and he hugged Draco back.

"Knight to D6," said Draco, after a moment. He pulled his hand out from under Harry's shirt and tugged at the collar. "Take this off," he whispered.

Harry didn't move for a moment, then he slowly sat up, pulling his arm out from around Draco. Draco sat up too. Harry pulled his shirttail out and fumbled with the buttons at the bottom of his shirt that Draco had not undone, the trembling in his hands making it difficult to work them loose. Finally, he pulled off the shirt and dropped it to the floor beside the bed.

"Those too," said Draco, his voice still a whisper, as he lightly touched the frame of Harry's glasses.

Harry took them off, folded them, and leaned over the side of the bed to set them carefully on top of his shirt. He sat back up and faced Draco, their eyes meeting, green and silver-gray melting together in a shivery hush of anticipation.

Draco reached out and took Harry's hand, lacing their fingers together. "I've never done anything like this with anyone," he said in a soft awed tone. He lowered his eyes, then laid his other hand on Harry's shoulder, sliding his fingertips very slowly, lightly across the top of Harry's bare shoulder to stroke the hair at the nape of Harry's neck.

Harry closed his eyes and let himself be swept away by the tantalizing gentleness of that touch. He clung to the hand he held tightly, as if it were his only anchor in a sea of shifting waves of feeling. He felt the mattress under him shift slightly, felt the warmth of Draco's body so very close to him, then Draco was leaning against him, and Harry caught his breath as a tremor thrilled through him.

Draco pressed a feather-light kiss just in front of Harry's ear, then he rested his forehead against the side of Harry's head. "It feels so good to touch you, Harry," he whispered in Harry's ear. "I've never felt anything like this."

"I haven't either," whispered Harry back. He turned his head and found Draco's mouth with his own in a tender melting crush. The hand Harry held pulled out of his grasp and slid around his waist, while the hand on the back of his neck came up to touch his face, fingers sliding under his ear, over his jaw, warm palm coming to rest against his cheek, claiming him, gently coaxing him deeper into the kiss.

Harry slipped his arms around Draco's back and pulled Draco against him. Draco felt so warm and perfect in his arms as their bodies came together. And Harry felt again that so simple, yet so profound sense that some part of him that had been missing was here now, fitting perfectly into place. That sense of completeness invaded him from everywhere. From the feeling of Draco's mouth moving tenderly on his, from Draco's body pressed so solidly against him, filling his arms so perfectly. It was filling all the empty places inside him, easing out all his hurt, settling into him like a sigh, the rightness of this feeling soaking into him bone-deep.

Harry surrendered himself fully to this sensation, and to this kiss. He tightened his arms around Draco, feeling that these lips were as necessary against his own as the air he breathed. Then Draco's tongue was teasing his lower lip, and Harry opened his mouth to that warm sweet invasion.

Draco finally pulled gently away, his nose brushing Harry's with a tender caress. He kissed Harry softly again, then opened his eyes. "Oh God, Harry," he whispered on a trembling breath.

Harry opened his eyes and their eyes met deeply for a very long moment. Draco's eyes were liquid silver in the lamplight. Harry felt his face flush at the tenderness in those eyes, and he couldn't look away, caught up by a sense of connection that made his pulse race. He lay back slowly, drawing Draco down with him.

Draco settled into the same position as before, lying against Harry's side, his head on Harry's shoulder. "Your move, Harry," he said in a soft breathless voice. "I took your Bishop. You're in check."

Harry's heart was pounding. Check!? He could barely think. Draco's touch, no matter how light, was like fire on his bare skin. He was aware of every place that they touched. Draco's arm lay across him and Draco's hand curved around his waist, Harry's bare arms were wrapped around the satiny smoothness of Draco's back. He felt the hand on his waist move, fingers trailing slowly upwards, leaving cool flames in their wake, as they lightly skimmed his ribs, gliding smoothly over his chest and up his neck, to at last tangle in his hair.

Harry closed his eyes and reveled in all the thousand feelings of Draco lying next to him. The impossible silkiness of skin on skin, the warmth that comforted and electrified all down the length of him, the whisper of breath against his neck, the pulse of a heartbeat against his side, the pressure of a hand, of a knee sliding up over his thigh, a foot curling under the calf of his leg. He had no idea where his chess pieces were, or what move to make next, and didn't care. "I don't want to move," he whispered.

Harry reached up and let his fingers skim through Draco's hair, then began to smooth that silky hair down, stroking it back behind Draco's ear and down the back of his neck. "God, Draco," he murmured after a few minutes, "I love your hair. It's got to be the softest thing I've ever touched." He sighed and shifted his head so that his cheek was against the top of Draco's head. "I hate my hair - it's so awful." He felt the fingers in his hair move and a muffled whisper against his throat.

"It's not. I like it. Your hair is soft too, and it's cute, the way it sticks up sometimes."

Harry felt his face flush at this very unexpected compliment. He let his fingers trail down Draco's bare back to the top of his jeans and back up to his neck.

Draco nuzzled closer into his neck. "Still your turn, Harry."

Harry sighed. "I can't play chess like this," he said very quietly. "I don't know what to move." He ran his fingers through Draco's hair again. "If you want me to take my turn, I'll have to get up and go look at the board."

Draco tightened his hold on Harry. "No, don't get up," he said with a small shiver, as Harry's fingers again trailed down and then back up his bare back. "Just take my Knight."

"With what?" whispered Harry.

"Pawn to D6," whispered Draco back. "Then you won't be in check."

Harry lay still, except for the idle movement of his hand that slowly stroked Draco's hair and wandered up and down Draco's back. Draco's hand moved down to lie over his heart, fingers curved into the hollow of his throat. Lying here like this was the gentlest, most exquisite feeling he'd ever known. Harry realized suddenly that he didn't need to look for complicated explanations for why he wanted to be with Draco. This feeling alone, simply and singly, was explanation enough.

"Pawn to D6," said Harry finally. He took a deep breath. "You asked me why I want to be with you, and I said I couldn't explain it. But maybe I can now - or a little anyway." He paused again, it was important to get the wording right. Then he began speaking slowly, as if he were thinking it through as he spoke. "Being with you . . . like this . . . feels like something I've always wanted. I just never knew what it was until now. I don't like being alone, but I don't think I've ever felt that I truly belonged with anyone before. My aunt and uncle have always hated me because I'm a wizard, so all my life, I've been yelled at, made to live shut up in a cupboard, or half-starved. I don't think I'd ever even been hugged until I came here. And," he added very softly, "I've never felt anything like this."

He continued slowly stroking up and down Draco's back. "I really like this, Draco. I'm so sorry we fought all those years. I'm sorry I was so slow to understand what you - or maybe, both of us - were feeling." Harry sighed as Draco moved his arm up to encircle Harry's neck. "But I feel closer to you right now than I've ever felt with anyone in my life, because I think you understand what it's like to feel alone too." He paused again for a moment. "Being with you feels so right to me. It feels like we . . . belong together and . . . I don't want to be alone anymore. I want - "

Harry stopped talking as he realized that Draco had tensed up, and that the hold Draco had on his neck had tightened considerably. Then he felt a shudder run through the other boy, and Draco turned his face into Harry's neck. Harry realized then, with a startling jolt, that Draco's face was wet where it pressed against his skin, and that more hot tears were falling, trailing cool tracks down his neck. Harry realized this only a second before a sob that Draco had been trying to hold back broke from him in a strangled gasp. "Draco?" Harry whispered. Oh God. "What is it? Did I say something wrong?"

It was several moments before Harry heard the muffled answer to his question. "Not . . . wrong," came the soft broken reply, ". . . so . . . right."

* * *

Draco lay in Harry's arms. He could feel the steady pulse of Harry's heartbeat under his hand and in the hollow of Harry's throat. Harry was smoothing the hair down the back of his head, running his hand lightly up and down his bare back. It felt like heaven to be touched like that, and what was even more incredible, was that it was Harry, the one person he had so wanted, but believed he could never have, that was touching him like this, petting him, loving him. No one in his life had ever really touched him, much less like this. Draco was entranced, undone, and unprepared for the depth of his reaction to this touch, this embrace.

And Harry was saying things to him that touched him in an entirely different way, words that were finding a way through all his barriers, words that reached into him, seeped and trickled and poured like cool water into the bare, dry untouched places in his soul, filling him up until he would have to overflow with it. With each touch, each word, he found the walls crumbling, found himself moved beyond words, and found to his utter humiliation that his throat had closed up with ache, and he was perilously close to tears. He held it back for as long as he could, but Harry's words, "It feels like we belong together . . . I don't want to be alone any more," ripped the last stone from the walls.

Draco turned his face into Harry's neck and let it come. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He was barely able to answer Harry's question, and then he lay in Harry's arms and cried. He could not in his life remember crying, but he did so now. Trembling with ache and embarrassment from the sobs he desperately fought to hold back, he clung to Harry and tears flooded out of him. All the hardened places in his heart that he had built to cope with the life he had at home had dissolved under Harry's gentle caresses, Harry's soft words and tender touch. Draco had no defenses left to hold back the torrent of hurt that poured through him and overflowed, seeking release.

How had he never known he wanted this, how desperately he had wanted this, craved it? He had hidden this even from himself. He knew he loved Harry, but until this moment, had not really understood why. Had it been this all along, that he had sensed in Harry a person who could give him this perfect combination of understanding, strength, and tenderness. It was only Harry who could stand up to him, giving back as good as he got, never backing down, facing him undaunted, his match in all things, and yet could also say "I can stand up to a lot worse than that from you, Malfoy," and mean it as a reassurance of his intention to weather Draco's emotional storms. Only Harry would stay and knock at a door slammed in his face. Draco could not resist the kindness of heart this implied. Simple kindness was something Draco had never known. In Harry, he had found a deep well of kindness, and he wanted to drown in it, sink to the bottom of it, and never come up.

And Harry was still talking to him, saying words that Draco couldn't quite catch, words that were soothing and comforting, and calmed him even though he didn't understand. He began to relax, and the tears, and even the tight ache that filled his throat, finally subsided, and the sleep that he had held so long at bay stole up imperceptibly to claim him. His last conscious thought was of being held, so perfectly, in the place he most perfectly belonged. There was a quiet peacefulness in his heart that he could never have imagined feeling, and then he was lulled deeply asleep.

* * *

Harry was taken completely by surprise when the tears started. It had frightened him more than a little at first, but he had held resolutely onto Draco, and murmured whatever soothing reassurances he could think of. Then Harry found he could sense the exhaustion in the other boy, and remembered that Draco had said earlier that he hadn't slept, that he felt wrung out from all the things they had talked about. And Harry realized that he knew exactly what to do about that. He had been working with Madam Pomfrey since last year on wandless healing, and it was in this aspect of Magical Medicine that he had discovered his greatest talent, and the possibility of a future working in something he loved doing.

He lay still for a moment, concentrating inward, expanding his conscious awareness to include the force of magical energy that flowed through him, and surrounded him in an aura of power. This colored aura surrounded all wizards, but most were barely aware of it, and very few could actually see it. Harry had found, to his delight, that, if he concentrated in the right light, he was one of those few. And through long hours of private training with Madam Pomfrey, he had learned to consciously direct and use this energy for healing.

He concentrated now, tapping into the deep center of magic inside himself and sent that energy out through his hands as he gently ran his hands over Draco's back. He murmured the words of a calming spell and then another to induce sleep, layering his voice with quiet reassurance. Almost immediately, he felt Draco begin to relax, and very soon, the tears stopped, and Harry felt that relaxation gradually deepen into sleep.

He continued to hold Draco for a while, even after he was certain the other boy was asleep, just so he could be with him a bit longer, savoring the sense of deep contentment he felt. There was a vibration he sensed in the air around them, a humming, almost as if a stringed instrument was playing a note too low to be heard, a note that could only be felt. It seemed to lace itself around and through them, weaving them together, until Harry felt that there were no boundaries between them, that he and the boy who lay in his arms were the same self.

It was while he was lying like this that he noticed the sparks. In the dimmed light where the curtains of the bed cast a shadow over them, and where Harry's hands moved as he touched Draco, he left a trail of tiny golden sparkles, like tiny static electricity sparks, but these were definitely magical in origin. They hovered behind his hands for a moment, following his movements like tiny comet tails, casting small circles of dancing golden light over Draco's pale skin, then fading away. He guessed they were an after-effect of the magic he'd been doing, though he'd never heard of anything like that in his study of magical energy auras. But then he didn't expect to have learned everything yet - he'd definitely have to ask Madam Pomfrey about it.

Thinking of that reminded him of class tomorrow and of how late it must be tonight. He really had to get back to his room and get some sleep himself. It was so hard to leave, but Draco needed to sleep, and Harry didn't want to stay uninvited. Finally, he eased away from Draco, being careful not to wake him, and stood up. He picked up his shirt and glasses and put them back on. He looked down on Draco as he finished buttoning his shirt.

Lying there, asleep, Draco looked devastatingly fragile, and heartbreakingly lovely. It was inconceivable that he had spent six years fighting with this person. A deep feeling of tenderness welled up in Harry, and he wished again that he could stay. For a brief moment, he considered getting Draco out of his jeans, to make him more comfortable, but immediately abandoned the idea, far too embarrassed to do it. He did gently tug the coverlet and blankets down from under Draco to cover him up. Draco stirred then, but Harry laid a hand on his shoulder, and he sighed deeply and settled.

Harry bent and gently brushed the blond fringe back from Draco's forehead, then sighed himself. He stood up, uncertain if Draco would want his bed hangings closed, then decided to do it. At last, he picked up his shoes and crossed the room to stand by the chessboard. He studied the board for several minutes, then, still thinking, sat down in the chair and put his shoes on. When he was sure he was remembering the sequence correctly, he carefully made the four moves they had made during the evening, removing his Bishop and Draco's Knight from the board. Finally, he picked up his backpack, withdrew his wand from the pocket on the side, and said the spell to put out the lamps. Then he pulled out his Invisibility Cloak, swirled it around him, and left the room.

He didn't run this time, but walked quietly and deliberately back to his dormitory. He had a great deal to think about. He was discovering that he and Draco were alike in many ways, that they shared a great deal of common ground between them. But, he was also seeing that they were vastly different in their emotional natures, and was beginning to realize that even though Draco's hostile behavior had changed, a relationship with him would always be full of emotional ups and downs. Draco was mercurial, the white-hot streak of lightning in a stormy sky that suddenly changed to warm gentle rain, and back again to storm.

But Harry felt some excitement about this. His own nature was more constant and even-tempered, needing some outside spark to stir him to life. And it had always been Draco, more than anyone else, who had stirred such depths and heights of feeling in him. Draco was spark and flame; Harry was the rock that was warmed and yet contained the fire and remained unburned. For Draco, Harry was the solid earth, strong, steady, and reassuring, grounding the lightning, drinking in the rain and in turn, blossoming.

Their differences balanced, enriched and centered them. Shining green fields meeting gray velvet skies. Harry had never felt a greater sense of wanting to belong with someone than he had felt tonight. So it was the beginning, this balance, this understanding growing between them, of something Harry wanted deeply.

There had been so much said tonight, so much still left to be said; things for which the words must be found, and things that must be said without words. Tonight he and Draco had shared themselves very intimately, and Harry knew that the closeness they had experienced together tonight would express itself very soon in a different kind of intimacy. He was now completely certain of two things. He was falling in love, and he was going to have to tell the truth about that something he had lied about, something very important, something that, at the time, he had not thought mattered.