Draco Malfoy and the Sleep of Fleeting Death

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter: Finally

A/N: This is the last chapter of this fic, so I'll say goodbye to you all now. Thank you for reading all the way through this, and I hope you enjoyed it!

Draco spent quite some time continuing to test the potion; whether it was poisonous, or possibly toxic in any way at all, and if it still had the same effects when duplicated (it did, thank goodness. Draco wouldn't have to keep brewing more and more batches of it as long as he kept one vial of the original batch) before moving on to administering it to Harry and himself to check for effects from differently sized doses. It seemed to work just as well as the normal Draught- even better, if Draco did say so himself- and when their testing session was over, Draco and Harry were no more addicted to the potion than they had been when they began. 

Harry helped Draco bottle up the potion into the doses they thought would work best based on how they had reacted to smaller doses; approximately three drops for an hour of sleep seemed to be the rough measurement.

When the potion had all been bottled up, Harry levitated them into the Great Hall; with all eyes on him, Draco snuck in without anyone noticing and sat down at the Slytherin table. "That's them?" Pansy asked. Draco nodded. "Woah. Well done," she murmured to him.

"Mr. Potter, what have you brought us?" McGonagall asked.

Draco and Harry had gone over their plan, and if Harry messed it up, Draco would kill him.

Harry said, "Well, a person who has asked me not to reveal their identity sent me these last night. They're dreamless sleep potions, except not addictive."

"And how, Mr. Potter, have they accomplished this?"

"Well, I can't tell you that, Professor, it's the secret to their success!"

McGonagall smiled and rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright. How do we know this person is trustworthy? How do we know these potions work?"

"They work. I used one last night, and I don't feel any addiction whatsoever, and I slept peacefully. You can trust the person." Harry met Draco's eyes. "I trust them with my life."

The sap. Draco blushed and looked down.

"Alright then. Those who suffer from nightmares, come first to collect your sample."

The eighth years rose, the Hall silent for them in respect for what they'd done to bring about the nightmares. They all took a bottle from Harry with a quiet, "Thank you," before returning to their seats. When it was Draco's turn, he only pretended to take a bottle; he had many more stashed away in the Room of Requirement, and he didn't want to take someone else's potion. He and Harry shared a small, secret glance before Draco turned away and returned to his seat next to Pansy, who'd already taken her potion.

"Thank you, Draco," she said. "Thank you."

The eighth years gathered in the Great Hall again that night, discussing who might've made the potions. Harry was being badgered with questions, and had been for most of the day; everyone wanted to know who'd succeeded where so many others had failed. Harry had kept the truth from the school for most of the day, but now he was being asked by his closest friends, and Draco could tell he was close to cracking. He decided to just keep an eye on Harry to make sure he didn't say anything, but otherwise continued his hushed conversation with Pansy.

"Guys, lay off Harry," Hermione told the group.

"Why? Do you know? I bet you do. Who is it?" someone asked.

"Er-" her gaze flickered to Draco. "Well, um, I can't say, they asked us to keep their identity a secret."

"Aw, c'mon. Hey, Harry, what about a trade? You tell me who gave you the potions and I'll give you my... Hm... Whatever you want!"

Harry gave them a calculating look, then smirked. "Okay. Deal. Come on."

Draco watched Harry lead the student- a Ravenclaw- out of the Great Hall, following quietly as the rest of the group continued to pester Hermione.

"Okay," Harry said, "I tell you who gave me the potions, and you'll give me anything I want?"

The student nodded.

"Well, it was Hedwig."

The student gave Harry the most betrayed look. "But- you said-!"

Harry grinned. "Yup. Now, anything I want?"

The student paled.

"Oh, don't worry. I have everything I want already. Harry waved the student off, murmuring, "Or nearly," after they passed through the doors. Draco stepped out from behind the column where he'd been hiding.

"What do you mean, 'nearly'? And also, Harry, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Please don't do that again, even if it was entertaining to watch."

Harry grinned and grabbed Draco's hand. "I make no promises. Now, when we get back in there, I'm telling everyone that you know who made the potions so that you get harassed by them."

"You wouldn't!"

"I would."

Draco took a step away from Harry- or he was going to. His foot never left the floor, and he just fell over. "What- I can't-"

Hermione poked her head out the door. "Oh, good, you fell for it," she said.

"Wh- have you cursed me? Let me go this instant or I'll- I'll-"

"No use making empty threats, Draco," Pansy said, joining Hermione.

"Pansy! How could you? You wound me. Truly, I'm betrayed-"

"Oh shush, Draco there's an easy enough way to get out," she interrupted.

Beside him, Harry groaned. "Really, 'Mione? Really?"

"Yup. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm really not."

"What?" Draco asked. "What is it?"

Hermione and Pansy grinned and shut the door.

"Draco," Harry said softly, "Look up."

Above their heads was a sprig of mistletoe.

Oh, Merlin, Draco knew that mistletoe. It was the same mistletoe Pansy had enchanted, way back in third year, trying to get Draco to kiss someone. If you walked under it, it would hold you in place until you kissed someone. Draco had managed to avoid it... Up until now. But looking at Harry... Well, there were worse people to get stuck under magical mistletoe with. But that didn't mean Draco would give in to Pansy's antics, even if he maybe (sorta (really)) wanted to.

So he ignored the mistletoe, standing back up again, and said to Harry, "You'd better not set that mob on me when we get back in."

"Oh? So you're planning on getting out from under this mistletoe, then?"

"Shut up, Harry," Draco muttered blushing.

"Okay. And even if we do get out, how are you planning on getting me to shut up about who made the potions?" He smirked at Draco. "What're you going to do? Kiss me?"

Oh, the little brat. He knew exactly what he was doing.

So Draco did the only acceptable thing in that situation.

He glared at Harry, wrapped his arms around him, and kissed him.