They were young, but he didn't care. When he approached the room, he was delighted to find his lover in only a forest green robe, just barely covering his pale thighs, and the treasure that hid between them. He smiled, and approached the man while a romantic hymn played in the background.

He knelt down, fingers sliding under his chin, tilting his head upwards as his lover discarded the book he'd been reading lazily. Their lips met, a collision of silk and chapped material. There was fire, and passion, and a slow rhythm as their breaths mixed together. They switched, and suddenly it was he sitting in the overstuffed chair with his lover in his lap, platinum hair messy as he ran his fingers through it idly.

Intimacy flew between them like sparks of a firework display come the New Year. This was new, this was beautiful, this was all just a dream...

Harry woke alone in the bed that he and Draco had started sharing. His breathing was heavy, and he glanced to see that Neville was no longer in the room. Where had his family gone?

He climbed out of bed, and walked through the white door and to the left. Nobody was in the lounge, nor at the table or in the kitchen. The porch was abandoned. He turned back towards the other bedrooms. The bathroom was unoccupied, and the doors containing Draco's, and Harry's parents' rooms remained closed.

"Draco? Neville?" He called. No response.

He ventured further through the house, and came across the alcove. His breathing was still heavy from his dream, and now from a slight anxiety upon not knowing the whereabouts of his brother and his lover.

He glanced out the window, relieved to see that the two were seated out on a bench, apparently in a deep discussion, and decided to let them be. He trekked across the house again, and entered the kitchen. Surely, his parents would be awake soon, and he decided that for once, he could be the one to make breakfast.

And so, he set out the ingredients to make pancakes, bacon, sausage, as well as a healthy fruit salad.

~~~

"So, you and Harry are back on then?" Neville asked the blond-haired boy who sat across from him.

"Were we ever really off?" Draco returned, and the dark-haired boy nodded.

"You were. Don't you remember how bad things were between you?" The younger boy asked, and the blond frowned. Of course he remembered. How could he forget?

Originally, Draco had taken Neville outside in hopes of getting to know the boy better, but as soon as the two found themselves alone, the younger boy began prying Draco about his relationship with Harry.

When Draco had meandered his way out of his warm, comfortable place alongside Harry that morning, kissing the messy-haired boy on the forehead as he went, he had not expected this conversation to occur.

"I remember quite well just how horrible things were, but I can assure you now they're getting better. Much better." Draco stated, thinking fondly of the bathroom scene he and Harry had shared just a week prior.

"That makes me happy to hear, Draco. I feel that deep down inside, if the feeling isn't mutual already, the two of you will learn to love each other greatly."

Draco smiled, and stuck his hand outward for Neville to shake. "Thank you so much for that."

"I'm just being honest. There's a real chemistry between you two, and I'm not just saying that because your Papa is a Chemistry teacher."

"That makes sense, seeing as Harry and I actually don't have those classes together."

"What're the two of you going to do after we return to London? You two are done with school, have in mind." Neville queried, remembering the fact that Draco had turned eighteen, and Harry would also be reaching that age soon. Their final year of schooling had come to a close and it was time to face the real world.

"Well, I mean, we'll have to get our diplomas, seeing as we missed the official date, and I guess we'll just work our way towards the wedding." Draco decided, shaming himself for not realizing that he was done with school and would not be returning for another term.

"Are you planning on marrying within the year?"

"Perhaps. Probably. Knowing our fathers, they'll probably force a wedding upon us sometime within the two months that follow after Harry's birthday."

"And what would you do if suddenly Harry were to reject your proposal?"

Draco frowned. "I doubt he'd ever do that, especially with how good things are between us. He'd be foolish to throw it all away."

"I was just wondering, Draco. Don't take it to heart. I'm sure the two of you will be happily married before the year is out." Neville smiled, patting the blond on the back as he made his way toward the house again. His stomach had begun to rumble and he figured he could perhaps make himself some cereal or something.

When the two walked into the house, they were immediately overtaken by the aroma of a meal cooking. Draco wondered how long he and Neville had been out there, and if his father would be angry with him for not greeting him the moment he had risen that morning.

Instead, however, he found Harry manning the kitchen: and man it, he did. Harry rushed around, stirring a good-sized bowl while humming some sort of unrecognizable melody. He placed the bowl in the center of the table just as the meats on the stove let out another sizzle, signaling that they were ready. He arranged them neatly on a plate and set them out as well.

The table was already set nicely, with glasses of orange juice freshly poured. On the table now sat delicious-looking pancakes, a fruit salad, and various sausages and bacon. It was a mouthwatering sight, and the food didn't look too bad either.

"Morning fellas!" Harry spoke cheerfully, green eyes meeting Draco's. "Sleep well?"

"We've been up for a while." Neville claimed, staring at the food laid out before him.

"I took notice of that. Now, dig in before it gets cold." Harry ordered, and the boys all sat down and loaded their plates with the scrumptious repast.

When Draco took his first bite of the fluffy pancake, he decided this was what real love felt like. The flavor burst on his tongue, and syrup dribbled down his chin as he hummed contentedly. Harry smirked, dabbing at the thick condiment before it could reach his clothes, causing the blond to meet his eyes again.

"You've cooked a wonderful meal, Harry." Draco practically moaned, and the dark-haired boy smirked.

"I put my blood, sweat, and tears into this."

Draco hummed again. "Well, then your blood, sweat, and tears are like a combination of ecstasy and a food orgasm on my tongue."

Harry blushed, mind venturing to his dream from that morning, and then to the reality that had taken place a week prior. If all else failed between them, and if they never partook in such activities again, he knew he could at least cook for Draco to make him feel such a wondrous amount of pleasure, and so a smirk overtook his face once more.