"What's with you?"

"What?"

"You're so..." Hermione cast around for the right word, "Bubbly."

"Bubbly?" Harry scoffed.

"You know what I mean," Hermione stated irritably, her finger moving down the index of her book. They sat in the library, alone for a moment while Ron searched for a book on the opposite side of the room. It was stuffy, the sun having started warming up as spring progressed, and Hermione was in a bad mood. "You were pissed off and sullen for ages, ever since Christmas, but now for the past, what, four weeks? You're suddenly full of joy. I mean, I'm really, really happy that you're happy. But I want to know what it is that's affecting your moods."

"I can't find it," Ron appeared by Harry, freckled cheeks pink from the heat, "though I did find '50 Common Hexes they don't Teach You in Defence Class'. Thought you might like that, Harry." Then Ron noticed the look on Harry's face. "Mate, what's wrong?"

"Hermione," Harry said through gritted teeth, "is worried that I might be a little too... what was the word? Oh, yeah: bubbly."

"It's not that, Harry," Hermione said pleadingly, "It's just that I don't understand why you've been having such severe mood swings! I don't like the idea that there's some outside force having such a big effect on you!"

Madam Pince appeared around the corner of their bookcase and made a violent shushing sound. Harry glowered at Hermione.

"Look, I appreciate that you're worried about me, Hermione. But please, just let me be happy for once! God knows I need it,"

"He's right, Hermione," Ron agreed. "He's happy, so just drop it for know, alright?"

Hermione blew air out her nose, frustration on her face. "Fine. Let's just get on with finding stuff for Harry to use in this stupid maze."

0o0o0o0o

The Triwizard Champions had all been called out of the Great Hall yesterday evening by Ludo Bagman, and though Draco hadn't been able to talk to Harry since then, he knew it had to have something to do with the Tournament. Unfortunately, it didn't look like he was going to be able to ask Harry about it until tomorrow evening, as they didn't have potions that day, and he didn't know when they would next be able to arrange a meeting.

It had been four weeks since he and Harry had made up, and Draco had never been happier in his life. They didn't see each other outside of potions very often, but the few hours they managed to have together each week were better than Draco could ever have imagined. They could talk forever and never get bored, and it was so easy! And what was more, ever since Draco told Harry about the whole... parseltongue thing, Harry had started speaking it all the time. Draco had no idea what Harry was saying but it drove him crazy, though they hadn't done anything more than kiss. So far.

In fact, the only bad thing was Blaise, who continually nagged Draco about how stupid he was being at the moment. The worst part was that the quiet, logical voice in Draco's head agreed with him. Draco wasn't stupid; he knew that what he was doing was a gamble and that this sort of giddy happiness rarely lasted. But he couldn't bring himself to consider leaving Harry.

So he didn't.

0o0o0o0o

"Hey," Grinned Harry.

"I think I'm going to change the password for that door," Draco commented as he walked into the room. "I'm bored of Ilunga. I think the next password should be... Limerence. Yeah, that'll work,"

"Nice to see you too," Harry said, as he reached up to give Draco a kiss, which Draco returned wholeheartedly.

"It feels like ages since I last saw you," He said, as they pulled apart, "I missed you,"

"I missed you too," Smiled Harry, "It's going to be hell without you over the summer."

"Let's not think about summer," Draco said, taking his usual seat on the sofa. "Tell me what Bagman said when he took you all out of the hall a couple of days ago."

"He showed us the Quidditch pitch," Harry sat down and grimaced. "They killed it."

"What do you mean?"

"Hagrid's grown huge bloody maze on it, and they want us to get through it to get to the cup." Harry picked at the bobbles of his Weasley jumper as he spoke. "I think they're setting monsters loose in the maze for us to fight, and casting spells over it and stuff. So I basically have to learn as many spells as possible."

Draco raised his eyebrows "I hope they get the pitch back to normal before next year."

"Yeah, because Quidditch is my biggest concern at the moment," Harry laughed sarcastically. "Who knows if I'll even make it to next year,"

"Don't say that," Draco said sharply, "I don't care if it's a joke. I don't even want to think about that."

"Okay, okay," Harry raised his hands as if in surrender, "Sorry. Look, let's not talk about the tournament, I need a break from thinking about it. Tell me how your day was. You never talk about yourself."

From that point, the conversation carried on under its own steam. Time passed differently in the Guest Room, and the boys barely noticed the sun sink low below the horizon, and a few brave stars trying to make an appearance in the twilight. It was coming up to ten o' clock by the time the boys stopped talking, reluctantly lifting themselves from the sofa and gathering their things. Harry was just about to leave when he remembered something.

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"I was going to ask: what do ilunga and limerence mean? Ilunga's been bugging me for ages but I always forget to ask,"

"Oh, right. I pick those sorts of words up from the older books I read, which are actually mostly muggle classics. But ilunga's actually a Cuban word I think. It's famously difficult to translate, but it basically describes someone who will forgive any abuse the first time; move on from it the second time, but will never forgive a third."

"Ah, interesting. Did you choose it because it describes you?"

"I mostly chose it because I liked how it sounded," Draco came and leant with his shoulder pressed to the door, facing Harry. "I guess I sort of related to it."

"And what about limerence?"

Draco blushed and studied the ground at his feet. Harry smirked. "Go on, tell me."

"It means 'a state of infatuation with another person'."

"Infatuation?"

Draco flushed pink. "Ask Granger,"

"I will." Harry looked up at Draco, studying the taller boy's face. "I really love being with you, you know. Spending time with you. Even if I don't get to do it often."

Draco smiled, and cupped Harry's cheek with his hand. "I love spending time with you too."

Shutting his eyes, Harry leant into Draco, inhaling his smell, and loving how his head fit perfectly into the crook of Draco's neck. A swell of affection rose in Harry, and his grip around the small of Draco's back tightened. They stayed like that, simply existing with each other, for an indefinite amount of time. Then, Draco spoke.

"It means being in love," he said, with a suddenness that suggested he was scared to say it.

"What does?" Asked Harry, leaning back slightly to look at Draco.

"Infatuation. It means being in love."

"Oh," Harry looked down, at Draco's collar, and asked tentatively, "Do... do you think you might be infatuated with me?" He looked back up at Draco's intensely bright grey eyes and found that Draco was staring at him. He looked frightened, and took a deep breath before answering.

"I think I might be,"

Harry watched Draco's eyes carefully, his heart rate quickening. "Are you scared?"

"Terrified."

Harry rose a little on his toes and kissed Draco, so softly that he could barely feel it, and at the same time feeling every detail. Then he pulled away a fraction of an inch, so that their noses still touched, though their lips didn't.

"I love you, Draco,"

The words were whispered, frightened, and yet somehow yet self-assured. Harry felt Draco smile slightly against the soft skin of his cheek.

"I love you too, Harry."