Harry bit his lip, and warmth spreading through his chest. Draco had never said such openly kind things about him like that. "Well," he said, a little nervous. "You're a good sort too. You're clever and trust-worthy, and loyal. I'm sure my parents will like you very much when you meet them too."

Draco pulled at the grass, tearing several blades off. "I'm not good with people," he said quietly. "I don't present a good first impression like you do." He raised his eyes to search Harry's. "I would hate for your family to think I was cold, merely because I was unsure of what to say?"

Harry thought back to their first few weeks together in Little Whining, the first day in particular when Draco had been so standoffish it had been borderline rudeness, only to collapse into desperate tears once they were behind closed doors. How Harry had had to stay by his side at school and introduce the both of them to their fellow students, how he'd gradually eased Draco into their games and conversations with the little snippets of information he'd learned about his life, speaking on his behalf until Draco reclaimed his own voice.

But it had been a long time since Harry had had to act as Draco's protector or his guide. Draco was friends with all Harry's friends in the village, and had even made one or two of his own from when his mother had visited and she had introduced him to some acquaintances that Harry had yet to meet. (Not that he minded, much. It was understandable that Draco would meet other boys from well off families that Harry wouldn't have anything particularly in common with. He told himself that was alright.)

"You're different now though," Harry said warmly. "You've made lots of friends here, so even if you've a bit worried meeting new people in London at first, you'll soon come out of your shell like you did here too."

"You think?" Draco asked.

Harry shrugged. "You've always got something interesting to say," he told him genuinely. "I don't think you'll struggle to make a good impression."

Draco rolled his eyes. "That's just because you seem to find all my useless nonsense fascinating," he teased. "Normal people don't care how many years the Great Wall of China took to build, or how gravity works, they find it terribly dull."

Harry stuck his chin out. "That just makes normal people terribly dull then," he said. "And who wants to be friends with them anyway?"

Draco barked out a laugh, and Harry followed, both of them collapsing to the ground in mirth. "You're right," Draco chuckled, giving Harry a tickle that made him yelp. "Normal is rubbish."

"Let's promise to never be normal," Harry announced, flinging his hands up to the sky, making his vow to the whole universe. Then he turned and stuck out his hand out for Draco to shake. "Swear?" he said, his heart suddenly fluttering. "That we'll never be normal or boring?"

Draco looked at the proffered hand a moment, then took it firmly. "I promise," he said sombrely. "That you, Harry Potter, and I, Draco Malfoy, shall never be normal or boring."

They were lying on their sides now, hands still clasped and resting on the grass, looking at one another naturally. Harry shifted his fingers so they were laced together with Draco's, his skin cool as always against Harry's. He had an urge to say something more, but he got the feeling he was saying quite a lot in that moment without needing to open his mouth, so decided not to spoil it. He hoped though that Draco knew how lucky he felt to have met him, how important he was to him, how he always wanted to be friends and to have him in his life.

His feelings were overwhelming him, and he couldn't help but pull Draco into a hug, the way they did at night sometimes. Draco allowed it without any resistance, sliding his other arm around Harry's back to pull him close. The squeeze he gave with his hand seemed to convey all the same emotions Harry had been experiencing, and he felt such a surge of fierce love he trembled.

"What's wrong?" Draco murmured.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing," he said, pulling his head back so he was face to face with Draco, their noses only an inch or so apart. His pale skin was like milk, his lashes and brows golden in the autumnal sunlight. Harry had never really noticed the pale rose colour of his lips before, or the sort of heart shape they made, but now he was captivated by them.

He didn't want to lose this, this special closeness they had. He felt a swell of panic in him at the thought of no longer sharing a room, let alone their bed, of not being able to turn in the night and find comfort in his best friend beside him. He didn't want this to end, the best thing to have come out of their evacuation, and he felt a lump rise in his throat. If the war really was coming to a close, he should be happy, but in that moment the only thing he could see was Draco, and how he would surely lose him.

His mind was not right, he was consumed by selfish and unreasonable emotions. That was the only reason he could fathom afterwards, to explain why without thinking, he leaned over, and pressed his lips to Draco's.