Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way shape or form. Though I did get to go to the opening night of the Harry Potter Exhibit at the Museum of Science and sit in Hagrid's chair.

Chapter 18: To Realize

Harry flew down the stairs from Gryffindor tower, the letters clutched tight in his hand as his feet pounded stone. His breath was ripping through his throat, making it almost raw with the exertion of trying to practically teleport to the opposite side of the school. He was skipping steps, leaping over railings, and making anyone he passed jerk out of his way and look like they'd just seen Peeves in a ball gown.

Not that Harry really noticed. He barely managed to stuff the letters into his robes pocket, the papers crumpling slightly. His mind was a complete mess, a chaos of things all tumbling together, fighting and contorting, save for one glaring fact.

Draco Malfoy liked him, and not in the way that Ron or Neville liked him.

And Harry needed to see him. Right now. He had no idea why exactly he needed to see him, but if the consuming feeling in his chest and stomach were any indication, he didn't really need to know why.

Minutes later, Harry was streaking across the entrance hall, paying no attention to the other students as they scattered, yelling at him, as he sped through the passage leading to the dungeons. He was close, extremely close, the vivid memory of the entrance to the Slytherin common room burned across his mind, when he rounded a corner and slammed directly into someone.

This was no light matter either. At the velocity that Harry was moving, he would have been surprised if the other hadn't broken a limb. Or that he hadn't broken a limb. Groaning and making to scramble up from the floor, brain still screaming to get to Malfoy, Harry looked at who he had slammed into, and froze.

Sitting up opposite him was none other than the Slytherin girl who had met him just days ago as Davis Greenwood. Looking extremely shocked for a moment upon seeing him, Pansy Parkinson's face began to shift into recognition and then a third emotion. Harry didn't want to wait around for the third emotion from Pansy however, seeing as most likely it would be something extremely negative and bad for him in the long run. Scrambling to his feet, Harry bolted down the way he had come, hoping to put as much distance between himself and the Slytherin girl as possible before she was able to react.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Too bad he had only made it about twelve feet before being hit with her stunning spell. With a painful thud, Harry fell to the floor, frozen in place and eyes darting around fearfully. After a moment or two, Pansy came into view, looking slightly rumpled and annoyed as she looked down at him.

"What the hell are you doing, Potter?" she asked him, her tone commanding with a definite hint of amusement.

Luckily for Harry the combined incidents of running directly into a Slytherin and then being hexed worked wonders for his previously disorganized thought processes. Namely the fact that he had been rushing to the Slytherin common room, clearly as Harry Potter, the demand to speak with the prince of the house, who currently most people thought hated him. The probability of being cursed into one of Snape's nasty ingredient jars in such a situation was disturbingly high. If he were thinking logically, running into Pansy and being petrified by her was the luckiest thing for him.

Unfortunately, he wasn't thinking logically, especially since his current though process was something along the lines of 'Ohshitohshitohshitohshit she's going to kill me and present my body to Snape for extra house points ohshitohshit I'm totally screwed.'

Pansy leaned down to him, her face a foot away above him, smirking slightly. "Alright, Potter," she said, her dark hair falling about her pale face. "You've got two options." Harry internally perked at her words. "I'm going to have to release you from the spell eventually, at which point you have two options." She held up two fingers, as if to make sure he understood what numbers were. "You can either run off like a hufflepuff and ignore me in order to save your own skin." She smirked as his eyes flashed at her in indignation. "Or you can listen to me and chance that I wont hex you again."

Harry considered for a moment. Right now, he was currently helpless, lying on the ground in an extremely awkward position, vulnerable to Pansy if he wanted to further hex or curse him. Running away really didn't make much sense, considering if she wanted to hex him she could have done so without resistance. Then again, she was a Slytherin, and they could almost never be trusted. So logically running was the best thing to do in this situation.

However, before Harry had finished coming to a legitimate conclusion, Pansy had released him from the hex, letting his frozen limbs fall from their place awkwardly as Harry let out a groan. He looked up at her warily to see her waiting, smirk still on her features.

"Good choice," Pansy said, before swiftly grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet. With a yelp and a startles protest, Harry found himself being thrown into an all too familiar empty class room.

Hastily, Harry spun to face the Slytherin girl as she easily locked the door behind her, his wand drawn and looking extremely uncomfortable. Pansy sighed exasperatedly.

"Put that away, would you?" Pansy demanded, rolling her eyes at Harry's brandished wand. "I'm not going to duel you. That wouldn't solve my problems."

Harry snarled at her. "Expelliarmus!" Pansy half shrieked in annoyance as her wand flew from her hand, giving Harry an extremely agrivated look.

"Potter! Would you shut up!" Pansy snapped. "For Merlin's sake I'm not trying to kill you! God! I liked you so much better as Greenwood."

Harry's eyes, previously narrowed, opened wide, his grip on his wand loosening slightly as his jaw hung open stupidly. "What?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I'm a Slytherin, not a Hufflepuff. You think I didn't recognized you? Not even Draco's that good at glamours."

Harry swallowed, trying to process the information Pansy was telling him. "You knew I was Davis Greenwood?" She rolled her eyes again, obviously exasperated at his inability to process information at the speed of light. "Why didn't you do anything?"

Pansy gave him a patronizing look. "You really are thick, aren't you Potter," she stated, deadpanning to him. Harry scowled at her, as she sighed dramatically. "Draco is one of my best friends. You think I'd want a riot in Slytherin if I exposed the fact you were living there for three days? I may find you an arrogant and unobservant moron but I don't really want to see you massacred, especially in front of Draco."

"Wait a moment," Harry said, backing up slightly and looking at her in disbelief. "Am I to understand you're helping me?"

"No Potter," Pansy said sarcastically, waving a hand and once again rolling her eyes. "I'm doing everything in my power to make both my best friend and his retarded love interest as miserable as possible."

"That I'd believe," Harry grumbled, eyeing Pansy skeptically.

Pansy huffed angrily. "Look," she said, placing her hands on her hips, eerily similar to Hermione. "I'm sick of watching the two of you. It's like a giant seething ball of emotional and sexual frustration glooming about every time you two are around each other." Harry felt his stomach jolt. "I'm sick of watching him mope about and whine to me about his life. If you two don't work this out, I'm honestly going to kill you both."

Harry's mouth had gone dry. Malfoy moped about him? Whined about him? Since when was there constantly emotional, let alone sexual frustration? He was fourteen! He looked up at Pansy, feeling hesitant but determined. "What do you want me to do?"

Pansy threw her hands into the air. "Boys!" she yelled, once again reminding Harry vividly of Hermione. He absently wondered if the two of them had ever had an actual conversation and realized they were practically the same person. "I'm telling you I want you to go, talk to Draco, make him stop lying like a bubotuber on his bed, and finally get it into your heads you're in love with each other!"

Harry gaped at her. "I am not in lo-"

"Shut up," Pansy snapped at him, obviously annoyed. "Give me back my wand so I can turn you into Greenwood." Harry, still scowling though fully aware of the presented opportunity to get into Slytherin, slowly returned her wand to her. She snatched it back, huffing slightly, before directing it at him.

It was almost exactly as the previous time. Harry felt the familiar sensation roll over him as Pansy began to slowly disguise his features, changing his hair and eyes. Without much ceremony, she ripped his tie from his neck, roughly shoving it into his pocket before mussing with his hair. "Take off your glasses when we get to the common room. I'm not leading you like a blind man."

Harry said nothing, nodding slightly dumbstruck. As he was shoved unceremoniously from the empty class room, he turned to look at Pansy again, who was looking serious. "Why are you doing this? Really."

Pansy paused, her head snapping up as she was about to make her way to down the dungeons. At Harry's expression, her face softened slightly. She took a breath before smiling slightly. "Draco's one of my best friends," she began to explain, motioning that they should walk. Their pace was slow but steady, taking them down to the dungeons. "I used to love him, but in the end of second year, I realized he would never return my feelings. It was hard at first, and I hated you for it." Her eyes flickered to Harry for a moment. "But I got over it pretty fast, realized that he was more like my brother or something like that. And he was so miserable. Still is." She stopped walking for a moment, giving him a stern look. "I'm not saying I like you," she stated, eyes firm. "I hated you for how you hurt him, made him weak, for being stupid." Harry was about to respond but Pansy began walking again, cutting Harry off.

"But then this year happened," Pansy continued, her eyes softening as she glanced at Harry again. "And the two of you suddenly began to work. He was finally happy, beginning to let go of everything he was afraid of, finally being himself. He needs you, and, as much as you don't get it yet, you need him."

Harry felt like he was being lectured by Hermione, or Lupin, someone who was telling him things he should have noticed years before only now laid before him clearly. He said nothing as they walked up to the entrance to Slytherin. Pansy swiftly whispered the password, stepping through easily as Harry followed, hastily removing his glasses before coming into view of the large room.

Pansy continued to lead him, Harry barely able to keep up, his vision blurred terribly without his glasses. They crossed the common room easily, making for the dormitories. A few shouts rang out in the room, mostly to Pansy but one or two for Harry as he recognized the voices of Blaise calling for 'Greenwood' by the fire. Harry waved hastily in greeting as Pansy ignored the lot of them. Having entered the hall where the dorms were located, Pansy abruptly stopped, causing Harry to bump into her briefly, surprising him slightly.

Giving her a questioning look, Harry watched as the blurred figure of Pansy turned to him, her posture suggesting her seriousness. "Just one more thing," she said, her hand drifting to a door beside her, lightly grasping the handle. "If you screw things up, I will personally feed you to the Giant Squid." Harry was given no time to respond as she wrenched the door open and shoved him inside. Letting out a startled and undignified yelp, Harry stumbled into the room, snapping around as the door snapped shut behind him, the distinct click indicating the dark haired girl had locked it behind him.

Harry glared at the blurry outline of the door for a moment before he heard the sound of shifting fabric behind him. Praying to God that Pansy hadn't locked him in a room with Malfoy and someone else, Harry slowly turned around. Relief flooded him as he looked over the now familiar dormitory, the only figure present being a blond blob on the farthest bed, half propped on the four poster.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Malfoy demanded from his blobby spot on the blobby bed.

Harry sighed, raking a hand through his disguised hair as he dug in his pockets for his glasses, quickly slipping them onto his face. The room came into sharp focus, causing Harry to gasp.

It was almost exactly as Harry had remembered, except for one glaring factor. Malfoy's space, his bed, closet, trunk, bedside table, all of it, was completely trashed, like Peeves had decided to blow it up or something. The trunk was lying open on its side, the items strewn about on the floor haphazardly. The bedside table was missing the drawer, which was lying on the floor next to a few bottles of ink and broken quill. Papers, clothes, ink, quills, books, and all sorts of things littered the space around Malfoy's bed. The four poster itself was in a state of chaos, the sheets strewn about and tangled, the drapes flipped over themselves.

Malfoy was half lying on the bed, his arm propping himself up as he half glared at Harry across the room, one of his legs tangled in a sheet. He looked as bad as his things, face flushed and streaked, his clothes mussed and out of place, extremely unusual for the typically pristine Malfoy. His hair stuck up in all sorts of interesting directions, for once making Harry not quite so self conscious about his own black tangled mess. He looked like he'd either just been in a particularly energetic fight or been taking lessons from Professor Trelawney on fashion.

"It looks like Peeves just blew up your room," Harry said for lack of better words.

Malfoy continued to half glare at him, though his face flushed deeper at Harry's words. "What are you doing here?" he asked again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he remained immobile on the bed.

Harry swallowed, taking a step forward but pausing as Malfoy stiffened. Slowly and purposefully, he reached into his pocket, withdrawing the now crumpled letters from his pocket and watching as Malfoy's eyes flickered for a moment. "Why bears?" he asked, the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them.

Malfoy blinked at him before finally letting his position change, his arm giving out beneath him as he flopped back down onto the bed. "Because if I said blast ended skrewts I wouldn't have been able to use the word 'maul'," Malfoy said, his usual haughty tone returning and clashing horribly with his disheveled appearance. Harry hesitantly took a few more steps toward Malfoy until he had entered the war zone, standing just at the outer edge of thrown items.

"Was the word 'maul' so necessary?" Harry asked, hoping to keep the conversation from being awkward, though, considering their situation, that was practically impossible.

Malfoy snorted, his chest jerking on the bed slightly. "I thought saying 'maim' or 'blast' wouldn't sound as humorous," he explained dully, his somewhat lifeless gray eyes fixed lazily on the ceiling. Seeing Malfoy so lifeless, surrounded by signs of chaos and destruction, left Harry slightly breathless. The image of a pure figure surrounded by devastation oddly appealing to him. The fact that Malfoy's white blond hair fanned around his face also didn't help the image to lose potency.

"Pansy dragged me in," Harry said softly, feeling that he might as well explain his presence.

Malfoys eyes flickered, his face remaining impassive though a slightly frown was evident. "Did she disguise you as well?"

Harry nodded. The same feeling was back. The feeling of comfort and familiarity with Malfoy. The feeling he had had when they had been in the snowball fight, the feeling from when they would talk, the sensation that they could be around each other and it was normal. It was right. Except, along with that feeling was the beginnings of the raging emotions he had felt up in the Gryffindor dormitories.

Malfoy liked him.

"What the hell," Harry suddenly spat out, feeling frustrated and trapped, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to feel, and overall completely confused. Malfoy's head jerked up, his eyes wide and slightly surprised. Harry found himself glaring at him, his emotions beginning to throb through him once again.

"Excuse me?" Malfoy said, his drawling tone stabbing into Harry like an electric charge.

Without thinking, Harry lunge onto the blond, straddling his hips as he gripped the wrinkled front of Malfoy's white shirt, bringing the blond closer to his now snarling face. "What the hell!" he almost shouted at the blond, delighting slightly at the flash of emotions over the blonds face, the spark of life making him feel alive. "I don't get it!" Harry snarled at him. "How can you suddenly like me? Suddenly break the pattern we've had for years!" Malfoy's eyes suddenly flashed in anger. "Why do you have to suddenly change! It was normal, it was constant. We hated each other. Why did you have to go and make things complicated."

Malfoy was glaring heatedly at him, his teeth bared slightly. Without warning, the blond's fist slammed into the side of Harry's face, causing the raven to roll off of him with a startled shout. Malfoy was sitting up, face furious and wand drawn, pointing directly at Harry who had fallen to the floor, glaring up at the blond.

"Going to hex me, Malfoy?" Harry spat, the familiar feeling of fighting with the blond leaving him thrilled and causing a gaping hole of pain in his stomach. They knew how to fight, how to hate each other, but it hurt now, seeing the blond's furious face directed at him. Somewhere, everything had changed.

Malfoy's scowl deepened as his grip around his wand tightened. "No," he said flatly before lowering his wand. Harry felt his heart skip as Malfoy sighed, his face falling slightly. "I'm tired of his, Potter," he said, his voice quieter as his eyes dropped. "I don't want to be fighting you all the time. I can't do it anymore."

Harry pushed himself to his feet, looking down at the blond, feeling slightly helpless. "Why?"

Malfoy snapped his head up to him, incredulous. "Are you seriously retarded?" he snapped, eyes flashing with hurt and anger. "That's like me asking you why you're the boy who lived! You can't change it, it just is that way!"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, feeling frustrated. "I mean, why change this year? Why not keep being an ass hole and trying to ignore me?"

Malfoy looked slightly shocked before he pushed himself to stand, facing opposite Harry and looking defiant. "Because I don't want you to die," he said, voice level and serious as he looked steadily at Harry. Harry's surprise must have shown on his face because Malfoy sighed, running a hand through his already mussed hair. "Every other year, there hasn't been this much chance that you could actually, well, die. Sure, you almost did," he hastily added, seeing Harry open his mouth angrily. "But it's never been so constant. People have died in this tournament, and considering the way things have been moving, what with the world cup and other things, I realized that I could actually lose you."

Harry scowled. "Lose me?"

"You could die you idiot!" Malfoy snapped at him, eyes flashing menacingly. "Actually die! Not just the one moment when it's possible. It's a constant threat! It's not like first year, or second, where it was just one moment where a few people would know the truth. It's my constant reality." He huffed and turned from Harry, anger radiating off of his as he kicked through his strewn things. "I'm sick of being the Slytherin Prince. Of being the Malfoy heir. Of being the figurehead of purebloods and mini-death eaters. I'm sick of being your rival!" He spun on Harry, his face flashing with pent up aggression. "I don't want this to be my reality."

Malfoy kicked angrily at his trunk, causing the piece of luggage to jolt loudly against the floor. "I'm sick and tired of everything. Of my heritage. Of this school. Of my reputation. The stupid war, the stupid stigma, and, most importantly, of you!"

Harry felt his anger flair defensively. "What the hell have I done!"

"Nothing!" Malfoy shouted back at him, hands balled into fists. "That's my point!"

Harry gaped at him. "What do you expect me to do?" he snapped, his anger fueling the adrenalin pumping through his system, making him feel excited and thrilled, the angry flush on Malfoys face causing his skin to prickle. "Do you expect me to be buddy buddy with you? You've never really given me reason to trust you. And what, you expect me to just suddenly like you? To drop everything, after being betrayed once already, and tell you I don't want you be mauled by bears either?"

Malfoy was kicking his trunk again, fury flushing his face. "I don't know!" he shouted at Harry, eyes wild with frustration. "I don't know what I want right now!"

Harry was getting extremely frustrated. Without even thinking, he had lunged, punching Malfoy square in the stomach, causing the boy to grunt with pain, the next moment lashing out at Harry. It was unusual. Usually, the two of them never legitimately engaged in physical contact. Sure, they randomly threw punches, but the majority of their fights were threats, verbal battle, or magic. Trying to beat the living shit out of each other wasn't typically their forte.

But it felt so good. Each punch thrown and received only served to fuel the fire building in Harry's stomach, pounding through his veins. His jaw hurt from where Malfoy had punched him, bruises littering him that he knew would form later. Malfoy was fighting back, tooth and nail, his own anger flashing over his face.

Harry had never seen anything more captivating. Malfoy, usually so refined and uptight, perfect in appearance and poise, was suddenly alive, thrashing and striking, his face completely unrestrained as he fought with Harry. His grey eyes flashing angrily and excitedly as he bared his teeth.

But nothing lasts forever. After a good twenty minutes, both Harry and Malfoy were propped opposite each other, panting slightly, mussed, clothes ripped slightly, and looking extremely thrashed. Malfoy's lip was bleeding slightly, his hair completely wild, plastered across his flushed face. The collar of his shirt was hanging open, the top few buttons having been ripped off. Harry had a few cuts around his face, bleeding, and his glasses were, once again, broken. He could taste blood in his mouth and the knuckles on one of his hands was bleeding. His shirt had been pulled up oddly so many times he doubted it looked normal.

Still panting slightly, Malfoy leaned up, snatching his wand from his bed and directing it at Harry. Barely having the time to move, Malfoy had swiftly removed the glamour Harry had forgotten he still wore. The feeling of a light veil being lifted from him left Harry feeling slightly naked, bare before the blond who flopped back onto the floor, wand still clutched in his hand.

"You might as well repair my glasses as well," Harry panted out, scowling at Malfoy slightly.

Malfoy smirked, his mouth still parted slightly. "I thought we'd already established I liked watching you run into things." Harry tried hard not to let his mouth twitch at Malfoy's words as the blond, despite his statement, quickly repaired Harry's glasses. "You really do look much better when you're not Greenwood," Malfoy commented, his eyes flashing to Harry for a moment before resting on the floor between them.

Harry swallowed. The exhaustion from the fight had lessened the burning in his stomach slightly, but it slowly began to gnaw at him again. "Pansy knew I was Greenwood," he said, frowning slightly.

Malfoy snorted. "Not surprising," he said, running a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. At Harry's look he sighed. "Pansy is like a sister to me. She notices stuff, much like Granger does for you, except she doesn't do it so everyone notices. Of course she'd realize you were Greenwood."

"Would the others realize I'm Greenwood?" Harry asked, the thought plaguing him slightly as he looked over at the blond.

Malfoy snorted. "I doubt it. Unfortunately, most Slytherin's do classify the stereotype and are not as bright as Pansy or myself just as most Gryffindor's do as well with the exception of Granger."

"Did you just recognize Hermione as intelligent?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow and wincing as it caused a cut to split back open. Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Just because I recognized she's not as stupid as you doesn't mean I don't find her annoying beyond belief, Malfoy drawled, shooting a look over at Harry.

"So I'm stupid," Harry blanked.

Malfoy sighed and leaned back, propping himself on his arms so he lounged slightly on his floor before hissing and snatching his hand up. During their fight, they hadn't exactly been considerate of the surroundings. This meant that the majority of the items on the floor had been abused, especially the ink wells, causing ink to be smeared across the stone floor scattered with broken glass. Broken glass like what was now stuck in Malfoy's hand. Angrily, Malfoy sharply removed the offending shard from his hand before flinging it across the room.

"Sure, you're stupid," Malfoy spat, glaring at his hand which had begun to bleed. "Which doesn't say much for me, I suppose."

"How's that?" Harry asked, leaning against the bed opposite Malfoy's as he observed the blond. Harry wasn't unfamiliar with the sight of the blond. He saw the damn boy every day. But, seeing him here, completely open and raw, mussed from fighting and still volatile, Harry felt thrilled. It was like seeing Malfoy for the first time and the feeling of urgency that had thrummed through him as he had sped from Gryffindor about half an hour ago began to return.

Malfoy gave him a withering look. "It, by association, makes me stupid for-" He stopped himself, a light blush crossing his face.

"For liking me?" Harry finished for him, feeling the urgency and excitement begin to bubble once again in his stomach. He could feel his heart begin to beat faster, the blood flowing rapidly through his body.

"Yes, that," Malfoy said softly, looking away, his eyes tinged with sadness again.

Harry, however, after having entered the room and seen Malfoy, lifeless on the bed, his eyes dead, wasn't about to let the blond regress once again. Malfoy's head snapped back to Harry as the raven launched himself at the blond, effectively pushing him over, pinning him to the ground. Malfoy scowled at Harry, who was currently grinning, straddling the blond again, hands on either side of Malfoy's head.

"I don't think that's stupid," the Gryffindor said, smirking down at the blond, who was scowling.

"Yeah, well, you think dungbombs are funny," Malfoy said, scowl never leaving his face though his eyes were brighter, alive once more and Harry internally cheered for keeping them from their dead look.

"You're face is funny," Harry countered, pouting slightly at the blond beneath him. They weren't fighting, their previous anger and aggression having been spent at the rooms expense. They weren't bickering or glaring at each other. It was much like the day of the snowball fight, when Harry had the blond pinned at the end of the game, except, instead of simply wanting to win the game, Harry didn't want this to be a game. It was too intimate. It wasn't intimate in the way Harry and Cedric had been intimate.

With Cedric, Harry had felt like he was being taught, a small child led through the ropes by a controlling mentor. Except, instead of being taught how to ride a bike, Cedric had been abusing his mouth and decency. Harry didn't feel smaller, he didn't feel vulnerable, he didn't feel like following others rules. He wanted his own rules, and he wanted to make sure they were heard. Looking down at the blond below him, Harry felt a surge of emotion shoot through his limbs, burning into his skin at the sight of the blond splayed below him.

"My face is not funny," Malfoy snapped, scowling deeply, a slight pout decorating his pale lips. "In fact, my face is perfect."

Malfoy was different. Malfoy didn't try to control him, try to bend him to his will, manipulate his ignorance and hormonal desire for his own use. Malfoy didn't use his name for social or political purposes. For years, he had been the only one not to treat Harry like a hero, like a trophy, like a name to write down in your year book. It had been through relentless bullying, pestering, and teasing, but, as Harry looked back on it, he was the one who knew Harry the best. Malfoy knew all of the things that bothered him, all of the ways to get him to react, all of his past, his likes, dislikes. And Harry knew the majority of his as well. Save for the obvious one being his like of Harry, but no one was perfect.

This was unlike anything Harry had expected, to be sitting on top of Malfoy, pinning him to the floor, and realizing that, opposite what he had thought for years, the blond beneath him was probably the only person he knew that hadn't tried to use him. The only one who was real. With Cedric, he had thought he had found someone to finally like him for him, see who he really was and not just as a name. But in reality, he already had someone like that, he had just been too blind to see it.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, his voice softer as he looked down at the blond, whose forehead creased at the words.

"For calling my face funny or for pinning me to the ground?" Malfoy asked, frowning at Harry. "I could make a longer list but I'd need some parchment and for you to get off."

But Harry wasn't listening. His heart was pumping feverishly, heat beginning to pool over his body as he tried to keep his breath from catching. He should have been shocked, revolted, aghast at the fact that his arch rival for so many years was the only person who had actually seen and liked him for who he was, even if he did have a weird way of showing it. But he wasn't. Instead, he felt his heart clench at the thought, his skin prickle and stomach jolt. He recognized the feelings from when Cedric had lavished his attentions onto him, except this was different.

This wasn't just hormones. This wasn't just the thrill of being liked. Malfoy was frowning at him for Merlin's sake. This wasn't like the small crush he had on Cho, this wasn't the flip flop from seeing Fleur. This was real.

"Potter?" Malfoy asked, his frown still present, eyebrows drawn in concern as Harry remained over him, still keeping him pinned to the floor.

"Harry," Harry said, his voice softer and, surprising even himself, slightly husky.

Malfoy's eyes shot wide at the Gryffindor. "What?"

"That is my name after all," Harry said, grinning slightly as his mind began to shut down. He had been thinking too much, his thoughts racing since this whole thing began. Since Cedric, since Malfoy, since the Tournament. And so, for once, Harry didn't think as he leaned down and pressed his lips to Malfoy's startled mouth, his grey eyes wide as Harry's slipped closed.

A/N: These chapters are KILLING me. I honestly had to rewrite this four times before it worked properly. UGH! I've been doing so much work on all my stories, this, THO, and my other newer stuff which will be posted when this is done. There is probably going to be only one or two more chapters after this one, so, even if you're sad, yes, the story is almost over. I know it's been forever, but I swear this will be updated soon. PLEASE REVIEW!!