Lying on his back in the boy's dorm, Draco allowed himself to relax for the first time in weeks. The knowledge that he was no longer sharing a house with The Dark Lord himself was like being able to breathe again, and meant that Draco could finally let down the tense guard around himself and his mind. Without the alertness, he realised he felt exhausted. Christmas really hadn't been easy.

Absent-mindedly he twisted the band of silver around his finger, thinking. Seeing Harry had been numbingly painful, and yet somehow thrilling. The split second of eye contact they had had while boarding the train had been enough to make his heart pound and his hands shake almost uncontrollably. And, like rubbing salt into a wound, it had made the sadness that had been with him so long return to its full intensity with sharp precision. But the green eyes had not hated him this time. Not like they had before the holiday.

A sketchbook lay, pages splayed, by Draco's head. No new drawings had been added to it since Harry had left. Draco found himself sitting and staring at the blank pages in front of him more often than he could count, wishing for the urge of inspiration to come to him as it had so often used to, and yet feeling nothing. The pages mocked him until, defeated, he would return it to its place.

He was remembering what Harry's eyes had looked like on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters as he drifted off into murky dreams.

0o0oHarry0o0o

Harry rubbed a hand over the place he'd felt pain only two days ago, when the line of fire had been burned into his ribs, making him yell out in hurt. It hadn't been his - it came from the ring which he had returned to his hand the night before. It was difficult to tell what hurt him more - the pain on his skin, or the pain of knowing that whatever was happening to him would be much, much worse for Draco.

Guilt that he hadn't been able to protect Draco was ever present in Harry's mind. And he was angry - so angry - at whatever person had dared to harm him. Seeing him on the train, even briefly, had been heartwrenching. It had been all Harry could do not to go and pull Draco to him, to tell him he was sorry, and yet...

Suppressing a grunt of indecision, Harry rolled over and pulled his pillow into a more comfortable position. He wanted to sleep, but as always, Draco kept him awake. When he shut his eyes, all he could see were the fathomless icy irises staring through him. How he longed to look into those eyes again, without hesitation, and see only his own love reflected back.

It was with a sense of giving up that Harry finally decided to talk to Draco again, tomorrow.

0o0o

When tomorrow came, Harry began to get nervous. It felt strange to feel scared of talking to someone who he had spent so much time with, whom he had talked to for hours, but there it was. Just because he didn't like it didn't mean it wasn't true.

Potions was first thing. Harry didn't know whether it was a blessing to get it over with, or a curse to have to do it so soon. As they made their way to class, Hermione shot him a look.

"What's up?" She asked quietly, so that Ron wouldn't hear.

"I'm going to talk to Draco after school." Saying it made it feel final. That scared Harry even more.

"I knew you'd come round," Hermione said, barely hiding her smile. "Stop looking so sad. Remember that you're about to talk to the guy you're in love with. Be happy!"

"I'm not-" Harry didn't even bother lying to himself, and tailed off. Forlornly, he made his way to his seat, and sat down next to Draco, who already had his things on the desk.

"Morning," Harry said, feeling awkward at how formal he sounded. Draco looked shocked at the acknowledgement of his existence and took a second to answer.

"...Hi."

Harry spent the entire lesson trying to think of how to ask Draco if he could go to the guest room after school to talk. The more he thought about it, the stupider he felt. He was just experimenting with the possibility of writing a note instead when suddenly, as if from very far away, he heard his name being called.

"Potter? The answer?"

Harry jerked back into reality to see the whole class staring at him, and Snape glaring with unhidden disgust.

"I- I'm sorry, Professor?"

"What is the answer to the question I just asked you, boy?"

The worst part was that Snape was enjoying watching him flounder. Then, the faintest whisper came from his left.

"Toad skin."

"Toad skin!" Harry almost yelled. Snape raised an eyebrow, and returned to the blackboard. Automatically Harry turned to Draco.

"Thanks," he began to smile, before realising who he was talking to and stopping himself, turning slightly red. Draco was also colouring.

"No problem." He said finally, and returned to his note-taking. Harry watched him, feeling as though he were about to jump from a very high place without a parachute. Just do it, Harry...

Harry cleared his throat. "Draco-"

Draco was looking at him with eyes that didn't know whether to be happy or afraid.

"-Could you come to the guest room after school? I want to talk to you."

Suddenly it occurred to Harry that Draco might not want to come. Maybe he had left it too long, maybe-

"Sure," Draco said in what must have been a neutral tone, and went back to his notes. Harry saw that his hands were shaking enough to make his usually neat handwriting look scrawled. He looked away, back to his own notes, and was startled to find out he was shaking, too.

0o0oDraco0o0o

Every time Draco heard footsteps outside the door, he jumped. It was just like Harry to be late, but really? This time?

Another set of steps thumped into Draco's head. He sighed, rubbing a weary hand against his temple. Please, Merlin, he thought, let him listen to me this time. Let this be over.

Then, a new set of footsteps approached. They didn't pass by, but instead stopped outside the door. Draco's heart froze. The person outside the door sighed tiredly, then said in an unreadable voice;

"Limerence."

Draco stood up as Harry entered the room, wiping his hands nervously on his jeans. Harry looked at him, and then quickly away, as if looking was forbidden. He hadn't brought a bag with him.

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but caught himself. It seemed right to let Harry make the first move. Silence drowned them.

"So..." Harry started, finally. He did his little look again, at, and then away from, Draco. Maybe he thought Draco would disappear if he looked at him too long. Draco wished he could. Harry started again. "I-" he ran a hand through his hair, looking distressed. "I was wondering if you could maybe - I mean, if you want to... if you could, please, explain what happened?"

Draco almost smiled, but stopped himself firmly, not wanting to believe that there might be a chance. "Of course," He said, nodding. "Of course."

They stood awkwardly, the sofa seeming too familiar, the desk and wooden chairs too proper. Draco, deciding just to stand, gave a jerky nod, and stood a little taller. There didn't seem to be an appropriate way to start, so he just did.

"Okay. About a week before the quidditch match, I got a letter from my father. He had heard from Sev- from Professor Snape, that... well... that you and I had been getting very close lately. My father wouldn't have minded in normal circumstances because, of course, he wants me to have friends in high places. But things aren't normal anymore. I mean, The Dark Lord is sleeping in our guest room, for Merlin's sake." The not-joke hung between them like stale air. Draco rubbed a tired hand over his face, and continued. "He was so angry with me. Of course, I understand why. But I couldn't do what he asked - I couldn't leave you." Draco took a deep breath, and looked at Harry. "So, I told him. I told him I couldn't hurt you. Ironic, isn't it? After what happened next."

"It was brave of you," Harry said, suddenly. It was breaking Draco's heart all over again to see the tears that already threatened to spill onto his cheeks, making his green eyes shine like precious stones. "To stand up to him like that."

"No." Draco shook his head. "It was just the right thing to do. Anyway. I sent him that letter, saying I wouldn't stop being friends with you. I got his letter back the day before the match. He said-" Draco broke off, not enjoying the memory of the day. "He said that if I didn't do it - if I didn't end whatever ties I had with you... He would kill Manimi. He said that Severus would be looking out, and if he didn't see any proof that we were no longer friends, he- he would kill her."

Harry didn't say anything for a long time. He was looking at the ground. Draco, having nothing else to say, watched Harry. It had been too long since he'd had the opportunity to look at Harry without feeling bad about it. Years seemed to pass before Harry looked up. He gave a shaky breath, and as he met Draco's eyes, Draco was shocked to see how upset he was. He looked like he was shattering into a million tiny fragments.

"I'm s- so sorry," He said, finally.

"You don't need to be-"

"Yes, I do!" Harry burst out with surprising force. Furiously, he wiped the tears off his face. "I SHOULD HAVE PROTECTED YOU! I should have been there for you and heard you out but I didn't and-"

Without consciously deciding to, Draco found himself walking to Harry and pulling him into his arms. Harry collapsed against him, dissolving into sobs and holding Draco so tightly that he couldn't breathe.

"Y- you had to make that choice, I shouldn't have put you in that p- position," Harry sobbed. It wasn't only the anger at himself, Draco knew, but it was the months of misery that they had both endured, finally leaving Harry's body in the form of tears. Draco shut his eyes, and was surprised to feel his own tears hot on his face.

"It doesn't matter," He soothed. "Shhhh, it's fine, Harry. Really, it's fine."

"But I hurt you! I let you go b- back to that house when I knew you weren't safe! I L- LET YOUR OWN FATHER TORTURE YOU! All because you s- said something at a Quidditch match!"

"You didn't know. You were just hurt." Tears stung in Draco's eyes and it was everything he could do not to start sobbing with Harry. But he had to be the strong one this time. He had a hand on Harry's head, his thumb stroking the mess of hair. He focussed on the action. "Shhh," he calmed. "Shhh,"

Draco felt Harry's hands grip the material of his shirt, holding him together. He focused on stroking Harry's hair, on not crying, on keeping himself steady. Slowly, he felt the sobs subside into shaking, hiccupping breaths, and then to a slow, steady in and out of air. Finally, after an eternal smudge of time, Harry pulled back to look at Draco, eyes still a little bloodshot, and wiped the half-dry tears off his face.

"I really am so, so sorry, Draco," He said, barely whispering. Draco's heart tugged. "Please forgive me."

Draco said nothing. Instead, he held Harry's face in his hands, and kissed him.

It felt like the first time, but without the fear of uncertainty. The room, the castle, the entire world, all were suddenly nothing, and the only thing that truly existed was the feeling of Harry - the chapped lips, the taste of salt and dried tears, but above all, the feeling of coming home to something warm and familiar. The kiss became increasingly frantic, as both boys truly realised how much they had missed each other. They sank into each other, into the bed, as hands went first to hair, then to shirts, then to belt buckles, jeans. They barely noticed the clothes come off. All they noticed was each other, and that was all they needed.