This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Harry felt his eyes narrow as Draco entered the Great Hall, nearly dragging himself to his seat at the Slytherin table. Draco's pale complexion was paler than normal, allowing the dark purplish smudges under his eyes to stand out quite prominently. The sharp gray eyes that could cut through anyone ten paces away were dulled with fatigue, and Harry could notice the weight Draco had lost from not eating.

Draco forced himself through sheer force of will to not fall asleep at the table, and the horrifying mental image of his face falling into his breakfast helped him somewhat in that endeavor. The dreams were coming back, stronger than before, and to him, it was far more preferable to stay awake until he was well and truly exhausted then to go to bed every night and have his mind haunted by truly disturbing images, some of which made him wake up screaming. He had vowed to himself after three nights in a row of waking up in the middle of the night screaming, he wasn't going to do that any longer. He could feel Harry's eyes on him, like two pricks of fire on his skin, and he knew that if he met the green orbs, there was a more than decent chance that he would simply lose it and break down tight there in front of everyone. Draco Malfoy did not break down or show weakness in front of people, and it was a rare time indeed that he ever did that in private. Looking down at his plate, he noticed that he had been absently pushing his food around, and now it closely resembled something that someone would throw up. Sighing silently, he felt what little appetite he had leave him abruptly. Standing, he strode quickly out of the Hall, not noticing Harry excuse himself and follow.

Once outside, Harry looked left and right, trying to discern which way Draco had gone. He saw the very edge of a black work robe disappear around the corner off to his right. Following, not caring if Draco heard him or not, he sprinted down the hallway to catch him. Once he did catch up to the paler boy, it was almost pathetically easy to grab his arm and toss him none-too-gently against the wall.

Draco, knowing precisely who was behind him closed his eyes for a moment, steeling his resolve, then opened them back up to see Harry's angry face close to his. Indignation flooded through him. Harry was angry at him? It wasn't as if he had gone asking for the damn dreams to start again. They were standing so close together, Draco could smell the faint scent of Harry's toothpaste mixed in with the eggs and sausage he had been eating for breakfast. An unexpected and completely alien thrill shot down his spine, but before he could place any significance to it, Harry spoke.

"The dreams are back, aren't they?"

Draco's defenses rose. "So what if they are?"

"If," the way Harry stressed the word sent another shiver down his back, "they are back, then you need to tell someone about them."

"And have everyone think that I'm a bloody nutcase because I'm getting all worked up about some dreams? I don't think so."

Harry's eyes narrowed as they caught Draco's and held them. "If you don't tell someone, then I will. I will not have you practically killing yourself any longer."

"If you do tell, I can just deny everything. It wouldn't be the first time. Besides, even if I was 'practically killing myself,'" Draco's mimicry of Harry was annoyingly accurate, "I don't see how you would stop me."

Time stood still for the space of two heartbeats. Then suddenly, they were no longer arguing, for their lips had become glued to the other's. Harry had no idea what possessed him to press his lips to Draco's, but it felt so damn good to kiss those wonderful lips that could form curses as easily as the could compose the most eloquent statements. And good God, he knows how to kiss, Harry thought before giving up all rational thoughts, recriminations, and wondering why he was kissing Draco, to just enjoy the moment at hand.

The thrill in his spine was back, and was shooting up and down at such a force, Draco's entire body was practically shaking. Pulling Harry even closer, he parted his lips and swiped his tongue against Harry's lips, almost begging for entrance. He could swear that a chorus of wood nymphs sang when they did, allowing his tongue to thrust greedily into Harry's mouth, savoring the textures and flavors it held, from breakfast to toothpaste, to something that simply had to be Harry. Twisting his tongue with Harry's he gently coaxed it to follow his own back to his mouth, groaning with pleasure when it did. His hands move up to tangle themselves in Harry's messy black hair, not as silky smooth all over as his was, but soft and coarse mixed together pleasurably. His body hardened, and he rubbed helplessly, almost desperately, against Harry, who groaned into his mouth.

Harry's head was buzzing, not only from a lack of air, but also from the sensations rocketing through his body. Everything he grew up with told him that this should be wrong, that he shouldn't be feeling this way kissing another member of the male species, but his body was almost spiraling out of control from this kiss. His confusion led him to pull away and open his eyes, staring right at Draco's flushed face and dark steel-gray eyes.

"Tell someone," he whispered before bolting back down the hallway towards the Great Hall. The confusion remained on the spot where they had shared that all-consuming kiss, even though both boys had went their separate ways - for the time being.