What they were doing could barely be called dancing, but Draco seemed happy, a gentle smile fixed on his face as he slowly spun them around on the spot in time to the music. Harry wondered what his fifteen-year-old self would have made of this - dancing in the Room of Requirement with his worst enemy. Having Draco Malfoy looking at him as if he hung every star in the sky. He’d never have believed it - he’d have scoffed and wrinkled his nose and scorned the very idea. And yet here he was, and he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.