Home. That sounded nice. He and Draco were going to go home together. "The Eighth Year boys' corridor?" Harry asked the little elf, and she nodded so hard her ears slapped her face.

"We can be leaving as soon as Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are ready," she informed them.

Harry hoped that, if they were lucky, they could arrive in the corridor and not be seen, thus preserving their little bubble of reality for a while longer. He didn't want to have to defend being seen holding hands with Draco (because there was no way he was letting go of him any time soon), in fact he didn't want to have to explain anything, not even to his friends. Not yet. He just wanted them to 'be' for a little while, and start figuring out how they fit together.

So Dinella's offer to apparate them when they were unable to do so themselves was extremely welcoming. But it wasn't fool-proof, and if anyone was going to walk by as they appeared in the hallway, he figured it might be better if they weren't going to be sprawled on the floor.

"Perhaps we should stand?" Harry suggested, and Draco raised no objection.

Harry helped him to his feet, thrilled by the realisation that he was allowed to touch Draco's body, to support and comfort him as they shakily got up. Draco did seem quite unstable still though, so Harry belayed holding his hand and just slipped his arm around his waist, pulling their bodies together and holding him tightly. "Got you," he whispered.

Draco nodded reverently in response.

Little Dinella raised her hands up and strained on her tip-toes. Harry and Draco both leaned down to offer her a finger each to take, and in a whir of motion and flash of light they were suddenly stood in the familiar set-up of the boys' shared corridor, just off the Eighth Year common room. Mercifully, there was no one else around.

"Thank you," Harry told Dinella.

"If the masters are needing anything else," she told them sternly. "They is to just be calling Dinella's name, and she will come to take care of them. Understood?"

"Perfectly," Draco said with a faint but bemused grin. "Thank you."

She was gone again with a crack, leaving the two of them alone.

Harry was sure they wouldn't stay alone for long though, as he could hear voices drifting along from the common room not fifteen feet away, but he realised with relief and surprise that they were already standing outside his door. Whether Dinella had known that when she'd dropped them off, or if it was just luck, he didn't know or really care. They were there now, and that was all that mattered.

He and Draco looked on as he twisted the handle and let the door fall open. That was another thing he absolutely loved about being an Eighth Year, he suddenly decided. Private bedrooms.

He turned to see Draco chewing his lip, and gave his waist a squeeze. "Stay with me?" he asked, looking up as silvery-grey eyes turned to meet his gaze. "We don't have to do, um, you know," he said, suddenly flustered at even having to try and articulate what he didn't want to do just yet. "Anything," he finished lamely, hoping Draco understood. "I just, uh-"

"I'd love to stay," Draco interrupted quietly, so quietly Harry almost missed it.

"Really?" he asked dumbly, but Draco just nodded.

Not wanting to risk any more time hovering in the corridor, Harry steered them both into his room, kicked the door shut and locked it.

There was still a slight violet hue to the sky outside the window, so it couldn't be that late, but Harry felt wrung out and exhausted. "Sleep?" he suggested, and was met with another nod.

Ordinarily he'd at least brush his teeth before crawling into bed, but he didn't want to risk spooking Draco and frightening him off. He could always fire off a quick anti-morning-breath charm later if necessary.

Instead, he unwound himself from Draco, and took both his hands in his. He then walked slowly backwards, until they were beside Harry's double bed, still made from that morning and looking like the most comfortable place in the whole world.

"Can I take this off?" Harry asked gently, slipping his hands around the bottom edge of Draco's hoodie, rubbing his thumbs against the elasticated hem. Draco inhaled sharply as his eyes darted to look down, his whole body becoming tense. Harry didn't want to push him, but this was going to be their first night together, and he wanted it to be built on trust. "I promise," he said. "We won't do anything more than we already have. I just want you to be comfy, I want us to be close."

Draco though blinked rapidly, and Harry felt a lump rise in his throat as he realised he was fighting back tears again. "You won't like it," Draco whispered. "It's not nice."

Harry stepped closer, and rested the side of his head on Draco's shoulder, easy to do now they were stood up with their height difference. That way Draco could see his face even if he refused to look him in the eye. Harry watched him carefully as he moved his right hand up, and tenderly ran it over the slight swell of Draco's belly. "I think it's nice," he said warmly. "It feels nice."

That was too much for Draco though, and he screwed his eyes shut, a single tear falling down either side of his face.

"Come here," Harry murmured, guiding him down to lie on the bed beside him, before wrapping both arms around him and entwining their legs together. "Shh, it's okay," he said as they slowly rocked the smallest amount back and forth. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

Draco shook his head though. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I just...hate it, I don't look like me anymore."

Harry managed to pull his glasses off without too much disruption, and chucked them onto the bedside cabinet so he could rest his head comfortably on the pillow. Draco was so close to him now he didn't need them anyway. "I want you to be happy for you, not because I want you to be," Harry said slowly, arms once again around Draco's back protectively, their bodies pressed close together. "But I promise you, I promise, you look so much better the way you are now. To me anyway. You look healthy, and if I can get you to smile a bit more, then you'll be perfect."

Draco laughed, the kind that was nervous and almost protective, but it was still a laugh.

"There we go," Harry said kindly, brushing the wayward tears away with the flat of his thumb.

"Harry," Draco said, almost exasperated. "You must know how hot you are? How could you possibly...how can I compete...?" He trailed off miserably.

Harry wasn't giving up though. "You think I'm hot?" he teased.

"Oh shut up," Draco retorted, but there was that tentative laugh again.

"That's a yes," Harry told him smugly. "And I think you're hot. So there's no problem, is there?"

"You can't think this is hot," Draco insisted stubbornly, leaning back and pinching his belly harshly.

Harry pulled his hand away. Not forcefully, but deliberately. He then placed his own hand, palm down, on the bit Draco had hurt. "I think it's lovely," he said. "I think it's part of you, and I, uh..." Courage Potter! "I think you're lovely, all of you."

Draco didn't say anything, he just looked at Harry's hand on his tummy for a while, then placed his own over the top. "Thank you," he rasped, his voice tight, but no more tears fell.