Valentine's in Five

DAY FIVE: VALENTINE'S DAY, February 14th

Step 13: Alone time is necessary

Front steps, 7:14 AM

The air was cool, the sky a splash of bright copper. Harry followed the golden streaks upward with his eyes as they melted into violet. Purple threads of cloud zigzagged over the horizon, and pale yellows and pinks interwove with the sun's light. A flock of tiny birds dipped and whisked about, dark against the fiery tableau.

Harry pulled his scarf closer about his throat and blinked slowly. The new day's warmth fingered his cheeks, and for just an instant, the breeze pulled back and everything was still and cozy.

It had been beyond early when he rose; the castle held a blanket of silence he'd recognized. But that was just as well; he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone in the hallways on his way out of the school. The sky had been that purplish blue color that precedes the sun, and Harry could just imagine the strange, tantalizing stillness of the dawn air.

He hadn't seen the sun rise in months. Nearly a year, actually. It had begun as an accidental habit. Coming out of his tent in the chill mornings during the war, unable to sleep for the nightmares that stalked his every dream, Harry had found an odd comfort in seeing the first tip of orange peeking over the horizon. The shadows crept away as if slithering back into the earth, and the warmth of gold spilled over the land like billowing gauze. He couldn't remember the last time his sleep had been troubled enough to make him seek the sun's first moments, but he remembered clearly how it had made him feel. In the whole vast world of fighting and killing, surrounded by the dying and the ones he dreaded the deaths of, the dawn had calmed him, reminded him of how... small they all were. How, if one day he failed to rise, the world would keep going and the warmth would return, morning after morning.

Surprisingly, Ron's bed had been empty. The curtains hung parted, and watery light streamed over the tussled sheets. Harry had a moment of wondering where Ron might be, if Hermione was out of her bed, and making the obvious connections in his mind. But he was too tired to put much effort into it. He wanted out, in the vast quiet, where he could sit and let himself not think for once. He grabbed his hat and the coat Draco had given him, and shut the door softly behind him, cutting off the sounds of snores.

He stopped short at the threshold of the common room, and then backed up into the stairwell, out of sight. Hermione and Ron were there, sitting on the sofa directly in front of the fireplace. The flames threw an orange glow over his friends' features. There was something about Hermione's face as she sat there, fingers fidgeting with her hair. She was speaking, her words far too low to hear. Harry lowered himself to the steps, not quite sure what he was doing, and watched.

Whatever she was saying came haltingly; her shoulders twitched and hunched as she spoke, her hand movements grew jerkier. Hermione's face crumpled in a nervous grimace and her cheeks grew redder and redder with every word. Ron's mouth hung open; he stared at his girlfriend.

Ron and Hermione's feelings had always been so plain for Harry to see, but now... In a flash, he was certain he knew what Hermione was saying, what words were twisting Ron's expression into utter astonishment. For an instant, the curiosity was overwhelming. Harry felt so bereft, and in the hole settled a longing as intense as any fear he'd ever experienced. He needed to hear it suddenly, hear them.

Harry lifted his wand and muttered a quiet listening spell. Hermione's voice came to his ears as if she were sitting right next to him.

"...feel I should. And there's been so much time to do it, but I just... I don't know."

The space of a breath. Then-- "Hermione. I don't..." Ron struggled for a moment. "I don't deserve anything like that. Unless you decide that I do."

Ron's voice held a well of emotion that filled Harry to the brim and threatened to trickle out down his face. Harry blinked, guilt stealing up like claws over his shoulders. He silenced the spell with a jerk of his wand and rested his chin on his knees.

He doubted he'd ever have the courage to say anything like what Hermione was saying now, to Draco. The thought of Draco's face upon hearing it, the disbelief and fear of being told such a confession, made Harry's stomach flop over helplessly. They just... weren't close enough. It was time to start facing facts; he didn't know Draco well enough yet to even consider such a tender admission. That sort of intimacy, the kind Hermione and Ron were discussing right that instant, was wholly beyond Harry. He knew he wanted that with Draco, or was beginning to want it. Whenever they kissed, he felt it in his gut, tickling at his limbs. Whenever he saw Draco across the Great Hall, or bent over a book, brushing his hair back with slender fingers, it was there. But it was terrifying to think of letting someone get that close to you, in... inside you, even. Close enough to hold your heart in a single hand. Close enough to drop it into a void and leave emptiness in its place.

Ron was speaking quietly to Hermione now, his words vanishing under the crackle of the fire. Their faces were very close, his hands cupped against her cheeks. Her eyes were a watery brown and she nodded every so often. Ron's palm slid down her face and tilted her chin downward. His lips brushed her forehead. Hermione's shoulders shook, and then she lunged forward and clasped her arms around Ron. He stroked her hair with one hand.

That had been nearly an hour ago; Harry had sat in the stairwell until they left the tower for Merlin knew where. Now, he traced the peaks of the farthest hills with his eyes. It seemed to be the week for eavesdropping. First Susan Bones, then Neville and Padma. Now Hermione and Ron. Was it a requirement for Valentine's Day that someone overhear one's every trouble and complication? Was it a requirement for him to overhear it all? And just how many of his fellow students had gained priceless information about his lovely relationship with Draco over the past few days? Harry grimaced. He hadn't been as careful as he could have been. If Draco wanted discretion, maybe he wasn't the one the blond should be dat--

Coldness stole over Harry's shoulders, despite the sun's warmth. He himself didn't want discretion. It fell like a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach; truth, but with it a whole host of other, more worrisome realisations. He wanted to be able to kiss Draco in front of other people, to hold his hand if he desired it. To sit closer to him than a friend would, bodies touching all up one side. He wanted to glare Valentine-givers into cowering silence just because they knew who he was to Draco.

But most of all, he wanted Draco to want to do the same to him.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely heard the door creak behind him. Someone came slowly down the steps and sat at Harry's side. He caught a flash of white-blond hair in the corner of his eye.

Harry sighed inwardly. Was everyone up this early? Perhaps he should just go back to bed to be alone.

Draco did not look at him for a long time, and Harry studied the hills and the light bleeding across their edges. Finally, Draco spoke.

"Thought you might be out here."

Harry didn't answer, and Draco shifted once beside him. "Weasley paid me a visit last night."

Matter-of-fact, no real emotion there. Harry hesitated, then turned before he could find a reason not to and took Draco's face in his hands. He cradled his jaw softly, angling this way and that to check for the tell-tale purple of bruises. Draco let him, sitting with his hands in his lap. He studied Harry's face in silence, but Harry did not meet his gaze.

"He was remarkably restrained," Draco said in a low voice. Harry glanced up, caught a flicker in the blond's eyes, and dropped his hands. He turned back to watch the sun, glad he did not have a reason to be furious with his best friend on top of everything else.

Draco sighed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Harry, last night--"

"It's fine," Harry said shortly. Draco stopped, looking at him. Harry studied his own hands. He was suddenly tired, and angry at Ron, whatever he'd said to Draco. He didn't want a Ron-induced apology, one that might hold water for a time, but ultimately wouldn't change much.

Draco's voice was flatter when he responded. "Fucking hell, Potter, it's not fine. You're angry with me."

Harry shrugged, fighting against the desire to just yell and be done with it. He didn't want to get into this. He was too tired to think about the right thing to say, and yes, too angry, and he was missing the sunrise. It was Valentine's Day; he wasn't supposed to be arguing with his boyfriend. They were supposed to be getting along, at the very least. But then again, there was really no point, was there?

Draco jerked at one of his gloves, and then raked a bare hand through his hair. "What do you want, then? I shouldn't have said what I said last night. It's been a lousy week."

Harry remained silent. He could feel Draco's frown. The Slytherin spoke again; his voice bit, the edge of sarcasm seeping into the words. "I don't know what else to say, Harry. Maybe I'm just too self-absorbed to get it, as Weasley was so kind to point out last night."

"Maybe you are."

Draco stared at him, mouth slightly open. Harry knew he was courting another row; the building turmoil in Draco's features was plain to see. He sighed and went on before the other boy could get a word out. "Maybe we both are."

Draco looked down. He shook his hair out of his face. Harry stared at him, the familiar slope of his jaw, the dark eyebrows lowered pensively. Something stirred in his chest, and before he knew it, the question was out.

"Do you like this?"

Draco looked up, frowning. Harry gestured between them. "This, I mean. Do you like it?"

A snort. "Potter."

Harry only stared back. Draco sighed, rolling his eyes. "Yes. Yes. I - like - this." He imitated the gesture with one hand. "If I didn't like it, you can be sure I'd be in bed where it's warm, not out here worrying about the state of this, Harry."

Draco's tone was aloof. The vague sensation in Harry's chest grew. It wasn't hollowness, or discomfort. It was more like a sense of calm. Not warming. He didn't feel comforted by it, per se. More... stilled by it. Something was coming, he could feel it. Words? Action. He wasn't sure.

"No one knows about this, Draco," he said. His boyfriend's eyes met his, then darted away. Realisation was filling the blond's face, just as detachment was finding a niche. Harry watched with a sinking feeling.

"They don't need to know about it, Potter." His words were hard. "I know it, you know it. Our friends know it. I don't want the whole fucking school to know about my personal life."

"I know," Harry said.

"It's our business, not theirs!" Draco picked up a small pebble from the step by his foot and flung it viciously into the snow on the path. "Why the fuck would they know about it? They'll just whisper in the halls or giggle about it in class. I've been the fucking focal point for this damn school's attention before."

"I think I can understand that particular sentiment, Draco," Harry said sarcastically. His boyfriend's eyes flashed.

"Well, then, what the hell do you want from me?" He rounded on Harry, openly furious. "Shall I hold your hand on the way to class? Get caught in a few broom closets with my hands down your trousers like that idiot Finnigan and his girlfriend?"

Harry frowned. "Don't be stupid, that's not what I want, Draco."

"Well, what then? You want me to fawn all over you? You want to fawn all over me? We're a couple, Potter, not a fucking fair exhibit. I'm not going to get snogged by my boyfriend in the Great Hall just so they can all have something new to talk about!"

"Draco, I'm not going to snog you in the Great Hall!" Harry tore a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath. "I don't want you to declare your feelings for me in front of the whole school, or sneak around in broom closets, or anything like that."

He searched his boyfriend's face and saw only apprehension and misunderstanding there. It made his entire body go hot. He looked Draco right in the eye. "But I'm not going to act like we're not together. In the halls, or... or in class." He dropped his eyes to his feet, settling his chin on his knees. "Not going to pretend we just know each other. I don't want to. It's not how I feel."

"I know that!" Draco sighed fitfully. "I know that. But I don't see why everyone needs to be aware of it! It's not some fucking status symbol; we're together. It's ours, not theirs--"

Harry turned abruptly and pulled Draco toward him, shuttering his words in a deep, searching kiss. Draco's lips parted in surprise, and Harry swept over his tongue, his teeth, the inside of his mouth, tasting. Draco responded tentatively, little brushes of his tongue. His breath sighed out in a whoosh. Hands clenched fistfuls of his coat, then pushed at his shoulders. Draco jerked his head to the side, breathing heavily. "Harry, stop. What if--"

"Why not?" Harry interrupted, more loudly than he'd intended. He swept a hand toward the closed doors of the school. "Why not, Draco? What's going to happen? They'll talk? Of course they'll talk, they always talk!"

Draco licked his lips. "They will if you intend to do that again!"

"Just so you know, I don't," Harry shot back. "But it wouldn't matter what I intended to do, you'd respond the same way. Maybe you're ashamed of me, or someth--"

"I'm not ashamed of you!" Draco hissed hotly. There was a new, visceral sharpness in his voice, something directed at Harry, yet not directed at him, and it made him pause. "It's not their business what we do! It's private, Harry, for fuck's sake."

"I know that!"

"It's not for them! I don't like the idea of people seeing us."

Harry sighed, feeling tired and angry. "I know you don't like people to see. But you don't let anyone see, you know? I want... I want something more than that, Draco."

He stood and brushed off his jeans. He didn't want to look at Draco. It was easier to speak, to move, to think when he could pretend he'd spoken to himself. Whatever Draco's reaction, Harry did not want to have to respond to it then. If it was bad... well. He would deal with it better tomorrow.

"I'm going in," he said softly. "Almost time for Charms, and I'm hungry."

He turned and went inside, leaving Draco sitting on the steps. The front atrium was warm, full of voices from the Great Hall, but the emptiness in Harry's body just seemed to grow larger.

* * *

Step 14: Start your day

Great Hall, 7:59 AM

Harry took a bite of his banger without tasting it. Around him, the chatter was good-natured, punctuated by giggles and greetings. The Hufflepuffs had taken to calling "Happy Valentine's Day" down the table to each other in singsong voices. The Ravenclaws were subdued, as always, quietly going about the business of eating. Harry's own housemates were talking amicably, tossing bits of food across the table at each other's heads - the boys - or whispering to each other - the girls.

He hadn't bothered to look at the Slytherins.

As he picked up his goblet, someone slung a leg over the bench next to him and sat down. "Hey, Harry."

It was Ron. Harry nodded. "Hey."

Hermione edged onto the bench on the other side of the tall redhead. Ron didn't even wait for her to get comfortable; he slipped an arm around her waist and gathered her close to his side, kissing her hair. Hermione reached for the pitcher of pumpkin juice, but even as she did, Harry saw her folding herself into Ron's embrace, pillowing her head on his shoulder and yawning. "Morning, Harry."

He nodded again, watching them: Hermione's hand, rubbing Ron's upper back in slow sweeps, the protective curl of his friend's body around his girlfriend's. Ron leaned over and picked up a piece of toast, whispering into Hermione's ear as he did so. Her smile was brighter than the sunlight outside. She laughed and took a bit of melon from Ron's plate.

Whatever had been said, they'd dealt with it. Harry found himself wondering how long they had until the next bridge in their relationship was finally crossed. Maybe a week... Maybe only today. He wondered if he would be able to tell when they came down to breakfast the next morning. He was suddenly more certain than he'd been about anything that Ron would not tell him when it happened. At least, not at first.

He wondered if he, in turn, would tell Ron the first time he and Draco took that step. If they took that step.

Something ugly began to gnaw at his stomach. Harry took another bite of scrambled eggs and stubbornly ignored it. He was not yet ready to deal with it, whatever it was.

A flurry of hooting above dragged his attention away from himself. The owls soared in, a strange cloud of greys, browns, and whites mixed with an overabundance of red. Hedwig made for him, flapping madly, and barely succeeded in dropping onto his shoulder before a tumult of feathers and hooting announced the arrival of about fifty Valentines. Harry pushed his toast to the side for the owls to eat and studied the pile. It mocked him, all lace and candy and shiny paper. He shoved the pile away and settled his chin in his hands.

Up and down the table, his housemates were receiving their own owls. Ginny slid a card out of a red envelope and read, then flushed. She craned her neck to look at Dean. A bright smile played about her face, spilling her features into unconstrained happiness. Dean grinned back warmly. Harry fought the urge to sigh. He looked at Seamus instead, and was just in time to watch a flurry of tiny lavender petals burst out of a matching envelope into his roommate's face. Seamus barked a laugh and sought Lavender out down the table, where she sat with several sixth year girls. Lavender leered at him gamely. Seamus returned the grin, eyes darkening, and Harry knew enough to understand that avoiding the Room of Requirement tonight would be a wise decision.

He went back to poking at his goblet.

At the front of the hall, the Headmaster stood and waved his hands once. "I wish you all a good morning on this, our day of adoration." Dumbledore's blue eyes circled the room, a tiny smile twitching at his lips. "Enjoy yourselves, but please do not allow the celebrations to distract you from your assignments."

The students tittered. Harry caught a glimpse of Snape's scowling face several seats down from the Headmaster. He would no doubt destroy any Valentine that made it into his Potions classroom, just as Draco had done several days ago.

"My goodness," Dumbledore said calmly. "It looks as though I have been singled out." The old wizard bent and picked up a modest-looking card of pale pink. He opened it, eyebrows raised expectantly. He read the note and then turned to his left.

"Why, Minerva. You shouldn't have," he said, smiling brightly.

McGonagall's face looked scandalized. She hmphed and jabbed at her eggs with her fork, blushing furiously. If Harry had been in a better mood, he would have echoed Ron's guffaw.

Something jabbed him in the right arm. Harry turned around, but there was no one there. He tried the other direction and found Romilda Vane smiling sweetly at him over his left shoulder. She fluttered her eyelashes in what was definitely a come-hither look.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Harry," she purred. Harry caught the movement of her hand as she slipped something into her robes. He glanced back up at her, then over at his friends. Hermione glared at the girl, and Ron was frowning.

Harry nodded silently. Romilda Vane walked away, hips swaying. He waited until she'd taken a seat further down the table, then eyed his now-sinister-looking goblet and plate of food. "Suddenly, I'm not hungry."

"Couldn't agree more, mate," Ron said darkly.

* * *

Happy Valentine's Day

Transfiguration corridor, 6:25 PM

"Merlin, I thought she'd never let us leave," Seamus said. Lavender, wearing a deep red top and skirt to match, snickered and kissed his cheek. Her arms were looped around Seamus as if he were a life-raft.

"She's just embarrassed. About time she got up the nerve to ask the old man out, I say. It's not our fault she can't handle the pressure."

Seamus laughed and planted a sloppy kiss on Lavender's lips. "Lucky for me, you can handle it, right, love?"

Her chuckle was entirely too sultry for Harry to ignore. "Oh, but can you handle it?" she asked in a silky tone.

"Countdown's begun," Seamus murmured.

"Good lord, take it somewhere where we don't have to choke on it." Dean appeared at Harry's side, glaring. Ginny walked next to him, having just gotten out of Astronomy. Farther up the hallway, Ron and Hermione meandered, arms tight around each others' waists. Harry rolled his eyes. He knew what day it was, but was it honestly necessary for every couple in the school to accost him with it?

Lavender giggled again and turned to him. "Harry, who's your Valentine?"

Suddenly everyone was looking at him expectantly. He smiled and shook his head. "Been trying to avoid them, to tell you the truth."

"Vane didn't get you then?" Seamus' comment brought titters from everyone. Harry shuddered.

"God, I hope not."

More giggling. Harry let the other six walk on, falling to the back of the group as they made their way downstairs for dinner. It had been a long day and all he wanted was to hole up in his room and not think about the mess he was in.

It had taken him nearly to the end of Charms to realise that he'd basically given Draco an ultimatum that morning. At the time, it hadn't seemed like such a big deal. The words had come out of him as if spoken by another person, and they held a ring of truth he hadn't felt in a long, long time. It was only later that he finally heard what he'd said, actually heard it for what it was.

Change our relationship. Or else.

Harry chewed his lip, feeling sick. Draco hadn't looked up at him once during Charms. He hadn't made an appearance at lunch either, and Harry'd sat through it in miserable, unappetizing silence. It was just as well, considering that any food in front of him had probably been doctored by Romilda Vane somehow. But he really could have cared less what she'd managed to slip him.

Had he inadvertently broken up with his boyfriend? Had he begun the process? It was painfully obvious to him now: Draco didn't want the same things he wanted. His idea of a relationship was so far off Harry's mark that there was no way of being a successful couple, short of one of them changing his mind completely.

Harry made his way slowly down the main staircase with the others, behind a large crowd of fifth year Hufflepuffs just released from Arithmancy. Perhaps... he was expecting too much. Draco was not Hermione, or Ron, and would never prescribe to their sense of romance. He was also, thankfully, not Romilda Vane. The idea of not being with Draco hurt Harry deep inside his chest. Not touching him, not talking with him as they did now, never kissing him. Never holding him. So what if a little bit of secrecy was part of the deal? Wasn't it worth it, in the end? He would still have Draco in private, where it counted.

Or maybe he just... wasn't cut out for a relationship. Harry grimaced. Maybe his screwed up childhood - and early adulthood - had seen to that already.

The Great Hall was almost completely full of students, and the noise level was discomforting. Harry walked past the Ravenclaw table, where a whole line of cooing couples ended with Luna Lovegood staring dreamily at a huge orangey paper heart. Harry made a face. Even Luna? The heart really was atrociously large. It seemed she'd found someone who knew her tastes, at least. Or maybe she'd sent it to herself. He was never sure with her.

Either way, Luna looked happy. It didn't matter whether that was from a self-inflicted Valentine or a secret admirer. And there was Neville, sitting at the end of the Ravenclaw table with Padma, eyes only for her. Harry felt especially alone.

He seated himself quickly at Gryffindor and ladled some tomato soup from the massive tureen in the middle of the table. Hermione sat down next to him, and the delicate scent of camellias floated to Harry's nose. Her skin was glowing, a subtle sheen that flickered prettily as she moved. She caught him staring at her, and looked down with a self-conscious smile. Clearing her throat, she flourished her wand and cast several quick spells over the bowl of soup and the various plates of bread and vegetables. After a moment, she nodded, satisfied. Seamus, who had been watching her with a nonplussed eye, poked Harry in the arm from across the table.

"Good news, Harry, you can eat."

"Shut up, Seamus," Ron said absently from Hermione's other side. Seamus responded by picking up a piece of bread and launching it at Ron's nose. Harry turned away.

Hermione was staring at him. "Harry."

"Yes?"

"He's right over there."

Harry didn't know what to say. He took a large bite of bread and pointed to his mouth. Hermione pursed her lips and waited until he swallowed. "Harry, you can't avoid him."

He gaped at her. How did she always zero in on everything so bloody fast? He'd thought her properly distracted by her own boyfriend and his successful gift, but it seemed nothing got past Hermione Granger. "I'm not avoiding him. Can we talk about something else?"

Laughter broke out down the table and Hermione frowned. She leaned closer. "Was your fight last night really that bad?"

"No..." How could he explain succinctly that he might have messed everything up all on his own? Harry put down his roll. "Hermione, I'm not the one avoiding anyone, alright? Just leave it."

"Harry--"

But he didn't hear the rest of her sentence. Susan Bones had risen to her feet over at the Hufflepuff table and was making for Gryffindor with a familiar gleam in her eye. Harry groaned. Probably coming to check on the status of her card; one of the Valentines from that morning was undoubtedly hers. Harry hadn't had the heart to read any of them. He had no idea how he'd managed to sidestep the girl for so long in one day. And now she was walking over to his table, most likely to ask if he'd read the card, and would he come sit with her, perhaps?

"I'm... not hungry," Harry muttered, pushing his barely touched soup away. It seemed he wouldn't get to eat. Again.

"We just got here," Hermione said, looking puzzled.

Harry sighed, trying not to hate the glitter of her skin, and the sweet, perfect scent. She had that, and he had... well. He'd just go back to his room and wait for this silly nonsense of a holiday - which he wasn't supposed to care about, but damn it, he did - to end. Hermione looked past him, blinked, and then met his gaze.

A hand brushed his shoulder. Harry cringed. Too soon for Susan. Maybe Romilda was back. He turned slowly, waiting for the ambush.

Draco stood there, one hand resting on Harry's shoulder, looking at him. Harry's mouth dropped open. He stared up at Draco. The Slytherin's tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone. He pulled his hand away belatedly and fingered one of his trouser pockets.

"I... Draco." It was all Harry could manage; his pulse was pounding in his head. The blond opened his mouth, licked his lips, and closed them again. His eyes darted around the hall before coming back to Harry. He took a breath visibly, and gestured with one hand.

"Mind if I sit?"

The talk at the table had dropped off. Harry could hear Lavender whispering, and felt all of his roommates' eyes on him. His face began to heat up, and as it did, he saw a similar flush rising above Draco's collar.

"Sure. I mean, no. Sit--sit down."

Draco nodded, a jerk of his head, and slid onto the bench next to Harry. He picked up an empty bowl and spooned soup into it mechanically. Took some bread. But he didn't eat. His hands found their way down to his thighs and rubbed nervously. Grey eyes rose to meet Harry's.

Someone shifted, and Harry heard Hermione shush Ron. But he couldn't look. All he could do was stare at his boyfriend. "Draco, what--"

"I'm just trying this. Alright?" Muttered, only for his ear.

Harry's heart thumped swiftly in his chest. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Why?"

"Because you were right." Draco turned away from his scrutiny of the tabletop and fixed Harry with a frank gaze. Raised eyebrows. Challenging. For a long moment, they just stared at each other. Draco's eyes were full of tumult, but they pleaded with Harry mutely.

Harry slid his hand under the table and took Draco's. The other boy's hand went stiff, and then, hesitantly, fingers interlaced with his. Harry squeezed and a brief flicker crossed Draco's face.

Harry looked up and found the eyes of the elder Gryffindors on them. Dean stared, as did Ginny, her mouth slightly open. Ron's face was twisted, but he remained silent. Harry had a feeling his foot was being crushed by a certain someone's heel under the table. Lavender had a knowing look on her face, and Seamus was... leering. The Irish boy opened his mouth and took a breath, and in that moment, Hermione spoke.

"Could you pass the pumpkin juice, Seamus?" she asked pointedly.

Seamus glared at her, and handed her the jug. He turned back to Harry.

"And the rolls, please?"

This time, Seamus turned slowly to face Hermione and frowned. But it was no contest; even Ron couldn't stare Hermione down when she had a purpose. Finally, Seamus gave a sigh and dropped his eyes. The talk resumed, albeit stilted, but with the same threads of life it had borne before. Lavender leaned in next to her boyfriend, and Harry was sure he heard, "I told you so."

"What?" Seamus hissed. "I wasn't arguing."

Draco relaxed visibly as the attention moved away from the two of them. He leaned into Harry's side, and Harry wasn't quite sure if it was purposeful or accidental. He chanced a quick glance at Hufflepuff. Susan had regained her seat and was staring openly at the two of them, an injured, surprised expression all over her face. From that angle, she had most likely seen their joined hands under the table. Harry took a long, almost choking sip of pumpkin juice. Draco gazed at him cautiously, and Harry looked right back in silence.

It was comfortable silence, for once.

Eventually, Seamus' almost-food fight with Ron resumed, and Dean and Ginny were laughing again. Harry felt his spirits rise instinctively to his friends' chatter. The warm press of Draco's body along his side was glorious, and unbelievable. Something he'd felt only in the privacy of their rooms, on a secluded stretch of shore at the lake, in the dark recesses of the Quidditch stands, and it was here in the middle of the Great Hall, in full view of everyone. He suspected it might not look so obvious to those over at Ravenclaw, but it felt obvious to him. There was something different about the way Draco sat this time. As if... as if they were together, not just side by side.

Harry was in the middle of a bite of broccoli when Draco shifted. He felt the slight, but insistent press of lips to the corner of his mouth. Harry started, and nearly forgot to swallow. There was a soft gasp down the table, and the flow of conversation dipped again. Warmth flooded through his limbs.

"You didn't have to do that," he said quietly.

Draco was glaring, but not at him. "Yes. I did."

Harry followed his gaze and saw Romilda Vane way down the table, scowling directly at them. Her fingers were clenched so tightly around her spoon that they were white. She looked furious enough to fling the utensil at them.

Harry grinned at Draco. "Happy Val--"

"Don't even try it." Draco stabbed viciously at a piece of broccoli with his fork.

But a second later, there was a soft squeeze on Harry's hand. Draco's thumb drifted over his wrist, and Harry smiled. "Fair enough."

~fin~