It's finally here - my very last chapter! Thank you, as always, to the reviewers of the last chapter - Tagicheartbreak , Liz, LadyWhiteRose2015 and Ern Estine 13624. But also thank you so much to everyone who has followed/favourited/reviewed this story.. And a super massive thanks especially go to LadyWhiteRose2015 and Ern Estine 13624 for their constant reading and reviewing of every update.. It really made me enjoy writing this all the more knowing that people were really enjoying everything I wrote, so this chapter is dedicated to you! :)

Chapter Ten

Somewhere To Be Alone

The next two days passed much more quickly than Harry wanted them to. He and Draco – yes, now firmly Draco, not Malfoy – had spent most of their time together; studying, eating and sleeping with stolen kisses in between. Neither of them had spoken about the events of New Year's Eve, of the emotions expressed and the actions that encased them – although neither acted as if it hadn't happened, either. Draco's invitation for Harry to stay in his bed had been non-verbally extended, which was why Harry found himself now lying beside the sleeping blonde under a thick winter sheet. No label had been given to whatever they were and neither had braced the subject that hung heavily in the air between them.

Harry knew it would have to be addressed but rather than open his lips he slipped an arm around Draco's waist, pulling him closer. Despite a very physical start to, well, whatever this was, the pair had not again gone any further than a few stolen kisses before sleeping, and although Harry often awoke to find himself wrapped in Draco's arms they had never consciously cuddled. Except now, that was exactly what Harry was doing. The simple movement was all it took for Draco to shatter the moment.

"Harry?" He breathed questioningly, apparently not asleep as Harry had first thought. He remained still, his back to Harry with his head on the pillow.

The sound of his name made Harry's heart twist almost painfully. It wasn't that Draco had gone back to calling him Potter, but he hadn't been calling him Harry either. The sound made Harry realise he wanted to keep on hearing it for a very long time. The sound made Harry realise that, against all the odds, he felt happy.

That thought firmly petrified him. Happiness never lasted long for Harry and whenever it came by he would cling to it tightly, waiting for tragedy to whisk it away. It always did; finding out he was a wizard, one of the happiest moments of Harry's life, scarred by learning his parents had been murdered by a dark wizard, winning the Triwizard Tournament, tainted by Voldemort's return and worse, the Cedric's death, Voldemort's defeat and the end of the war, the joy ever ghosted by loss, George without a twin, Teddy without parents. Cruelly it appeared that fate would never let Harry be happy. All those other time, he had allowed himself to dare to hope for happiness. Dare to hope that there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. In this situation, Harry knew hope would bring him nothing. He didn't know much about Pureblood traditions but what he did know that this – Harry kept referring to himself and Draco as 'this' from a lack of anything else to call it – would be far from acceptable. Although relations between the same sexes were not met with animosity in the wizarding world as some muggles did, he knew that to Purebloods, a relationship which did not secure the future of the family line was nothing more than worthless.

As Harry saw it, he had two choices. He could say nothing, commit this last night with Draco to his memory and wait for the cool distance to return as the students did. Or he could confront him now, then at least he would now he did all he could. He would have to return to bed alone but at least his mind would be clear, readily waiting for the distraction of his friends return in the morning.

His silence must have alerted Draco further who turned over, shifting to face Harry. He could see little of the pale, pointy face in the darkness of the room, although his slate grey eyes seemed to glow in the little light the room was given from the glow of the moon.

"I was just thinking about your owl-stalking tendencies." Harry lied. He had opened his mouth to confront Draco, to ask him what would happen when the students returned but as their eyes met, he found he couldn't break the moment just yet.

If the room were in more light, Harry would have been able to see the blush that crept across Draco's usually pale cheeks. "It wasn't stalking," Draco mumbled, before quickly finding his feet and smirking "says the one who polyjuiced himself with an untested potion to.. – to see me."

Harry noted with a soft, sad smile how Draco so deftly altered his words. Although he had altered the end of his sentence Harry knew it had originally been "to see my trial". As Draco had unwittingly opened up over the past few days it had been clear for Harry to see just how much he had been broken by the events of the war and those after it – but also, Harry dared to believe, how he was beginning to heal.

Harry swallowed the lump building in his throat, trying to prepare his voice to sound even and nonchalant, although already aware he would fail terribly as he said "I suppose you'll want to, well… I suppose you'll want me to go back to my room."

For the briefest of moments confusion flashed across Draco's dimly lit features "What? Now? Your stalking tendencies don't bother me that much-"

"I didn't think you'd want people to know." Harry cut him off firmly, his words hanging in the air. A small voice in the back of his mind, the voice that knew any glimmer of happiness ever afforded to Harry would never last said this was the moment where Draco would turn and tell Harry that this was nothing and there was nothing for people to know about. That would hurt more than Draco wanting to end it – at least then there would have been something to end.

Instead, Draco's brow simply furrowed.

"You're a pureblood." Harry continued in way of explanation.

This time it was Draco's turn to smile the soft, sad smile. "It's not like I have much of a name to continue," He whispered, although he didn't sound like that was something to regret, rather he sounded well, did Harry dare to believe… Relieved? "I've always known I liked, well… blokes, but now I haven't got a family honour to uphold… I haven't really got anything to lose."

His final words hung in the air as if they were a question directed to Harry, rather than a statement. "Neither have I."

"Not the Weaselette?" This time, it definitely was a question.

Harry could have chosen to reprimand Draco for the nickname, but now wasn't the time. "Not for a long time. I didn't know I liked… But I knew she wasn't for me." Harry paused for a second before throwing caution to the wind. "Besides, I er… Last night, I owled George and told him."

Despite the dim light of the room Harry saw an emotion flicker through Draco's eyes , one that he didn't have time to place – although he hoped for one certain emotion, he didn't dare believe it – before it disappeared and Draco spoke again.

"Weasley and the mu- Granger?"

"We can tell them tomorrow." Harry said, then held his breath, aware of the resounding 'we' that had escaped his lips. This was it, the closest either had come to remotely defining anything between them, Draco's last chance to back away.

The blonde beside him didn't protest, although he didn't rush to reply either. Instead he gazed at Harry for a moment before giving a nod so soft that Harry would have missed it if it had not caused the pillow they were sharing to wrinkle. Harry squeezed the arm he still had wrapped around Draco's waist and watched as the grey eyes he had been so fondly watching – for longer than he had realised – turn away and be replaced with the back of Draco's head.

It hadn't been a romantic declaration, a burst of confessions of love and commitment or even a remotely enthusiastic acceptance, but it was enough to cause a cheek splitting smile to sweep Harry's face and cling to the hope that this time, maybe, he could be happy.


When the pair awoke the following morning the previous night's exchange was, as was rapidly becoming common practice for the pair, not acknowledged. Although it wasn't acknowledge in words, tension seemed to ripple in the air between the pair as they dressed and in silence, headed down to breakfast. As they entered the Great Hall Harry noted with sadness that, in preparation for the students return that day, the four house tables had been returned to their rightful positions. Noticing Draco's steps falter beside him as if unsure where to go Harry nudged him lightly, nodding toward the empty Gryffindor table for Draco to follow. The blonde paused only for a moment before following Harry, sinking onto the bench beside him as they reached the foot of the table.

As Harry piled his plate with bacon – he felt he'd need his strength for the conversation he promised himself he'd have with Ron and Hermione – he allowed himself to consider what he might say. George's reaction had been promising overall, although it was understandable as he was in a position where he was least able to judge; not that dating your dead brothers girlfriend was on level with being the Chosen One and dating an ex-Death Eater who also happened to be a bloke. The full plate that Harry had made himself now made his stomach turn as he filled with apprehension. He looked up in search of a pot of tea to settle his stomach and as he glanced at the teachers table, caught his gaze with McGonagall's. She held it for a moment and offered Harry a warm, knowing smile that made the heat rush to his cheeks. Surely she couldn't know…? No, Harry was just being foolish. She was simply pleased the pair appeared to have put their differences aside and that Harry had taken her words before Christmas seriously.

He turned away and noticed how Draco was picking slowly at his food, apparently his appetite was as raging as Harry's.

"The train usually gets in around 3." Harry said, unsure why he had, as Draco would of course already know that information. "I'm going to owl Ron and Hermione, tell them to meet us in the Room of Requirement when they get here."

Yet again Draco said nothing about the upcoming meeting, merely nodded as he had the previous night.

"I'll see you back in the common room?" Harry asked, unsure why his statement had left his lips as a question. His nerves were on edge and he felt jittery beyond belief – he needed something more than a nod to convince him owling his friends with a request to meet them so privately was a good decision.

As if sensing he needed to hear his voice, Draco turned to face Harry and offered him a small, but sure smile. "Yeah."

It wasn't much, but it was enough. Harry returned the smile attempted to lighten the situation with a joke. "You could even deliver it, if you wanted." He said and thankfully, Draco smiled.

"As tempting as the offer to be your personal errand owl is, I'll pass." He replied, feigning an overly dramatic shudder as he looked up at the twirling snowflakes on the enchanted Hogwart's ceiling, today an exact replica of the swirling snow storm outside.

Feeling considerably more positive as he left the Great Hall Haryy scurried to the Owlery, quickly dashing off a note to his friends before tying it firmly to the nearest owl. The owl gave a sharp, annoyed hoot at being forced to leave its shelter but none the less swooped away, quickly disappearing in the thick white flakes that tumbled through the sky.

The rest of the day passed with several failed study attempts, a few games of wizards chess where neither had enough concentration to offer a decent game and no mention of leaving their common room for lunch. Harry's stomach rolled over, although it wasn't from hunger. He eyed the clock and noted it was five minutes to three. It wouldn't do for half of Hogwarts to see Harry and Draco strolling around together before they'd had a chance to talk to Ron and Hermione.

"The train will be in soon, we should go up before the first people get back." Harry said and Draco, once again, only nodded. They stood and left the common room, covering the distance that it took to reach the Room of Requirement with agonising slowness. All the time Harry's stomach twisted with nerves. Was he sure that this was the right thing to do? So far Draco had given him little in the way of a solid conformation about this, what if he changed his mind? What if he ran just before Ron and Hermione arrived? What if – Harry gulped uncomfortably – he laughed as Harry confessed to Ron and Hermione, claiming the whole thing had been one big joke?

But it wasn't a joke, Harry told himself firmly. He hadn't heard the words, but he'd seen it in Draco's eyes as they stared at each other, felt it rippling beneath his pale skin as they touched, he knew it was real.

Those thoughts – especially the ones of touching Draco – filled Harry's mind as he paced three times before the Room of Requirement.

"We need somewhere to be alone, we need somewhere to be alone, we need somewhere to be alone."

Harry repeated his request with each lap and slowly a large oak door appeared before them. Harry smiled quickly at Draco before grasping the handle and stepping through the threshold.

He had only gone two steps before he stopped in his tracks.

Apparently, he had been a little too distracted by thoughts of touching Draco as he had requested a place for them – and Ron and Hermione – to be alone. What he had managed to conjure was a large, simply decorated yet beautiful bedroom. The walls were a warm, soft cream and a large, four poster bed dominated the centre of the room. The sheets were a deep red silk which seemed to somehow glow? No, Harry noted as his cheeks flamed as red as the bedsheets – the glow was caused by dozens of floating candles, flickering softly as they hovered around the bed.

"So, you want romance and candles, eh?" Draco drawled. Although his voice was steady a playful smirk tugged on his lips that didn't reach his eyes. He looked… scared? Fuck. This was the last thing Harry wanted. He desperately tried to regain control of his mind and will his lips into creating any excuse.

"I asked it for a place to be alone. I meant for us to tell Ron and Hermione not – I mean – I must of got distracted…" He mumbled, awkwardly trailing off. Smooth, Potter, he reprimanded himself bitterly. As if sensing the creators discomfort the room seemed to fizzle slightly as it transformed; the candles flew into newly conjured wall hangings and the bed transfigured itself into two, large, very comfortable looking sofas. They were still deep red but no longer made of silk.

Harry didn't let himself feel relieved – he had seen the look of fear in Draco's eyes. Harry had unwittingly allowed him to see thoughts that clearly suggested romantic intention. They hadn't even discussed themselves what they were – no doubt Ron and Hermione would ask – they didn't have an answer but Harry had just made his thoughts quite clear…

He released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding when Draco strode over to one of the sofas, settling himself down into it. He followed him over, settling down beside him in relief. The pair sat in silence and Harry noted a new addition to the room. A large, very elegant, grandfather clock stood proudly in the corner, ticking softly. The time read twenty past three. Students luggage was, of course, magically transferred to dormitories so with nothing to collect, Ron and Hermione would arrive very soon…

Harry was aware he had been shaking his leg until long, bony fingers settled over it, stilling the motion. The touch was by no means firm enough to stop Harry but the comfort the simple contact offered stilled the swirling emotions which had beckoned the nervous reaction.

Just as Harry was about to turn to smile at Draco, the expression vanished from his lips as the door popped open.

"Harry, we got your owl we –" The voice, which sounded overly worried in a way that only Hermione's could, stopped as her eyes settled on the object of her conversation. "Harry." She repeated, her eyes widening as she took in the hand on his leg "Malfoy." She continued.

A figure behind Hermione made itself known, stepping around the place where she'd frozen in the doorway to gain entrance to the room. At first Ron's features flew threw a range of emotions as he took in the sight of the pair, before settling on a completely slack faced look of confusion.

"Come and sit down." Harry said, his voice hoarse as he finally managed to speak. As if too surprised to do anything otherwise, his two best friends dutifully followed his instructions, taking a seat on the sofa opposite.

"We were worried." Hermione said eventually, as if finding the voice she needed to finish the statement she'd begun when she entered the room. Now, however, rather than a statement of concern, it seemed to be a question, as if asking if she had something to be worried about.

"We, er…" Harry swallowed, feeling uncomfortable as he once again referred to himself and Draco as 'we' "have something to tell you. I know it might be, well… It probably definitely is a little unhealthy." George's words, he decided, had helped him realise his own feelings so well that maybe they could help his friends understand too. "But I think we might be happy."

Ron and Hermione both flew threw a range of expressions, each overwhelmed by a clear sense of shock. Neither breathed a word, completely speechless. A speechless Hermione was something that, under different circumstances, Harry would have found positively hilarious. Instead he watched his best friends with hope, willing them to understand.

All the while, Harry noted comfortingly turning now to gaze into the grey eyes he knew were his, Draco didn't move his hand from Harry's leg.


One year later

Of course, it hadn't been easy. Without ever defining what they were to themselves, never mind anyone else, the news of Harry and Draco had swept the castle like wildfire. At first whispers, giggles and stares followed them through the castle at every turn. Although Ron and Hermione had been unsure they had stood by him and their support warmed Harry's heart. Naturally, it hadn't taken long for The Prophet to get hold of the story and their headlines had ranged, republishing the same event on an almost daily basis for a week, each time giving a different angle. Their stories had ranged from claiming Harry was certifiably insane, suggesting St Mungo's admit him against his will, to claiming that it was all a painfully attention seeking act to boost his public profile which had diminished since his return to Hogwarts.

The worst article had declared that Draco Malfoy was still a master of the darkest magic and he had brewed a powerfully potent love potion for Harry to ensure success in his plot to kill Harry and become the new Dark Lord. Harry could take the Prophet making accusations about him, he was used to it, but Draco – he filled with rage just thinking about the way Draco had become withdrawn and angry, reverting to his old, cold ways. Harry had pushed through, contacting Luna – who thankfully, as non-judgemental as ever and hadn't even offered to check his mind for rouge wrackspurts - to publish an article in The Quibber in which Harry personally declared he was not crazy, not attention seeking and certainly not under the influence of any love potions.

The interest died down soon enough; Harry and Draco gave people little else to talk about. There were a few changes, like how Draco joined Harry at the Gryffindor table to eat, and how they sat together in the common room, studying and talking with Ron and Hermione, but nothing to give anyone anything to talk about. They didn't roam the corridors hand in hand or snog in public so naturally, as soon as the next Hogwarts scandal came, they were yesterday's news.

A few weeks after the whispers had died away, Draco had taken Harry back to the Room of Requirement. He had at first wondered why – Harry had, without formal invitation – moved himself into Draco's bedchamber at the top of the eighth year tower. If they wanted to be alone, all they had to do was go to their room. When they had arrived, however, Harry hadn't needed to wonder why.

Draco had conjured the room to look exactly how it had when they had told Ron and Hermione – the first time around. It was their very own "somewhere to be alone". The candles flickered just as warmly and the red silk sheets looked just as inviting. Draco had looked, at first, like he wanted the ground to swallow him up. It had been a very obvious display of a feeling that neither of them had voiced, but now, neither needed to. Harry had pulled Draco into his arms, kissed him deeply and taken him to bed, for the first time lying back and allowing Draco to take him. It had been… perfect.

"Do we have to? Can't we say I'm ill?" Draco moaned pitifully, snapping Harry from his warm memories. "There's been a few cases of Spattergroit at work, actually…" he continued, sounding hopeful.

Harry sighed deeply, rolling his eyes. Of course, just as he was having a fond, loving memory of his boyfriend – yes, after some time they'd finally got around to officially declaring themselves as in a relationship – he proved to Harry yet again just how much he could still be an insufferable git.

"No." He said firmly, standing from his seat in the living room of their flat and moving to where he could hear Draco's voice drifting from their bedroom. "First of all, that lasts for months, so they'd be pretty suspicious when you were up and healthy again on Monday. Second, the blisters can leave awful scars, so even if you were that desperate to avoid a meal with my friends that you'd hole yourself up in our flat for a month, I doubt you'd be willing to scar that pretty face."

His words were let with a loud, drawn out groan. Harry almost laughed as he walked through the door – then the amusement died on his lips. "Merlin Draco you're not even dressed!" He spluttered, his amusement quickly turning to anger as he took in Draco's undressed state. Of course, he never usually complained at the sight of his boyfriend wearing nothing more than his deep green – silk, of course – boxers, but tonight was an exception. "The table is ready in ten minutes and we need to walk from the apparition point! It took Hermione weeks to get this reservation!"

"I can hardly believe that, most places fall over themselves to feed the Saviour," Draco drawled, although the resentment and bitter attitude which would have laced such a statement years ago was gone. Instead, amusement and mirth flickered in both his eyes and his tone, a smirk plastering his face. Fleetingly, Harry wished for the resentment back.

"Well she didn't mention my name. Didn't fancy cameras being shoved in my face all night," Harry muttered. Of course, the papers were no longer interested in Harry and Draco's relationship, but it didn't stop them following Harry all over with cameras – if it was a slow news day, a photo of Harry could always make the front page, or at least one of the first few columns.

"Come on, Draco…" Harry whispered, pouting in a way that made his bottom lip jut out and he had learnt that his boyfriend, although he'd never admit it, couldn't say no to.

"No, Potter." Draco growled, turning the tables. Not only had he realised what Harry was doing, he had started to play games with him. He knew what calling Harry 'Potter' did to him…

Harry was taken over by images of Draco bending him over their kitchen counter, slamming into him with a force that Harry had been sure was aided by magic as he pinned Harry down, growling deeply in his ear; 'Is this how you want it, Potter?'

Harry shook away the thoughts – he would never describe them as unwanted, but they were certainly… Inconvenient at this time, Harry already dressed smartly in a fine new pair of dress robes Draco had helped him pick out. Harry had gaped at the price and insisted that it was insane to spend that much on material, but the way Draco's eyes had feasted over him had made him change his mind, paying for the robes quicker than the witch behind the counter could say "40 Galleons".

"I could be persuaded to take you like that again, Potter… Especially when you look so…" Draco paused to lick his lips as his eyes raked down Harry greedily "…. Edible in those robes" he finished, his voice low and dangerous.

"Draco," Harry protested, hoping his voice was as firm as he willed it to be. "You know I don't see them much, and I don't have many…"

As Draco's leer faltered, Harry had to bite back a smile. The guilt card always worked spectacularly with Draco. "Ok, ok, keep your beard on Merlin, I'm getting ready." He grumbled as he headed toward the wardrobe, pulling out a pair of deep grey velvet dress robes. Harry grinned widely at the choice –they matched the colour of his eyes perfectly. Harry remembered the day he had bought them. He had noticed Draco longingly fingering the fabric as they'd taken Harry's Auror robes for resizing. Draco had said nothing, but Harry had seen the way he gazed at the material. All he had to do was ask – but, of course, he wouldn't. Malfoy hated relying on Harry and, admittedly, he did rely on Harry an awful lot. Harry had bought their flat, got Draco his job… Although Draco had perfect N.E.W.T scores, they were little without Harry's influence which had allowed him to get a role as a Potion's Master's apprentice. As an apprentice, the pay was poor, but Draco loved his work and when qualified wouldn't have to rely on Harry – not financially, at least. But for now, such extravagant purchases as dress robes were firmly outside the realms of Draco's reach. The next day when Harry returned to collect his robes he had deposited 45 Galleons for the robes without a flicker of an eyelid, despite his protests at the expensive of his dress robes earlier that week. He had left them, packaged on the bed for when Draco returned home. The gesture had earnt Harry a smile; a smile that reached Draco's eyes and truly lit up his face with warmth, a smile that – even for Harry – was hard to inspire.

"Although, of course, I'll take you up on that offer when we get home.." Harry breathed hotly against Draco's ear having silently crept up behind him. To his delight the blonde shivered at the feeling, turning his face just an inch so that their lips were almost touching.

"I'll be counting on the thought to get me through this insufferable evening." Draco drawled, although Harry knew deep down that – whilst Draco would never wildly enthuse about spending time with Ron and Hermione - Draco didn't mind Harry's friends. In fact, on occasion, Draco could be seem entering into a sparring debate with Hermione as they discussed the laws of magic on such a complicated level that Harry and Ron sat back, shaking their heads and turned their conversation to Quidditch.

Harry pressed a brief kiss to Draco's lips before drawing back with a wink and leaving the room. He wandered back into the living room to turn of the wireless he had been listening to whilst waiting for Draco. His gaze wandered to the few photos which lined their fireplace. Their flat was decorated to a minimum, free of all the fussy touches that filled Ron and Hermione's home – clearly, that was a female thing. Harry didn't mind the bland, basic decorations of their flat; it was perfect for them, all they needed was their special place, their somewhere to be alone. The one thing Harry had insisted on, however, was photographs. One of Harry's most prized photos – one of his mother and father, stood at one end of the shelf. He watched his parents twirl and laugh together for a moment, before moving onto the image at the opposite end of the shelf. In it, a younger Harry, Ron and Hermione laughed together and waved at the camera, Harry and Ron pulling childish faces and Hermione shook her head at them, trying and failing to look stern. The central photo was Harry's favourite. A photo of himself and Draco which had been taken when they collected their N.E.W.T's. In the photo, the pair opened their scrolls and burst into whoops of delight, Harry unashamedly throwing his arms around Draco's waist and pulling him close, planting a kiss on his lips before the scene replayed. It hadn't been a photograph that either had been aware of until it had surfaced on the front page of The Prophet. Harry hadn't bothered to read the headline but had carefully clipped away the photo and framed it. Draco had rolled his eyes, muttering something about Harry being a sentimental sap, but he hadn't protested as the frame took pride of place in the centre of their fireplace and that was enough for Harry.

"Harry? Hello?" Harry jumped as Malfoy appeared right before his face, waving a hand across his eyes "The fire's lit but the cauldrons definitely empty." He muttered to himself, peering intently into Harry's eyes.

Harry blinked a few times, pulling himself from his thoughts; apparently Draco had been waiting for some time. "Sorry, I was er… I was just thinking." Harry apologised.

"Merlin help us, Harry's thinking, that could be dangerous." Draco smirked with amusement, offering out his hand to Harry in preparation for their apparition.

"I was just thinking about how happy I am. That we're here." The words left Harry's lips before he could stop them; it didn't cause a rush of fear as such emotions once had, but they were still tinged with a slight embarrassment that Harry hoped they would never lose. Such displays of affection were rare between them, but at least when they happened, they knew they meant it.

"Well I'm not, I can think of a list of places as long as Merlin's beard that I'd be happier to be rather than off to a double date with Weasley and Granger." Despite his comment, Draco smiled at Harry, giving his hand a squeeze to show he knew what Harry had meant.

"Those robes look great on you. Grey. Like your eyes." Harry continued to babble, a smile taking over his face – it seemed once he'd started, he couldn't stop.

Draco rolled his eyes, although his smile didn't face. "You've said." He replied dryly. "Now are you going to stop being a sap so we can apparate, or don't you care about being late anymore?"

Harry, in fact, suddenly didn't mind about being late at all. He leaned in, giving Draco a long, drawn out kiss, gently moving his lips against his, slowly allowing his tongue to slip out and seek access to Draco's warm mouth. Their tongues moved together, but only for a moment, until Draco pulled away.

"If you want to go to this blasted dinner, there'll be no more of that until were home."

Harry winked, grinning at Draco with a sensual promise. "Can't wait, grey eyes."


Once again thank you SO much to everyone who has followed the story and for all the support. I'm certainly very sad to see it come to an end! I have, however, got a new story in the works - another Harry/Draco pairing called "Guardians".. I'm posting the first chapter today, so if you'll miss reading "Grey Eyes" as much as I'll miss writing it - head over to my page and give my new story a try! :)