A/N: Again, same spiel. A lot of this has been retconned. Please reread before continuing. I will confess that the premise isn't all that much better, but at least it's more realistic lmao.
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Chapter 2
The walk to the canteen was an awkward one, as neither male knew how to strike up a conversation. But luckily, once they arrived at their destination, the warm atmosphere dispelled the tension between them.
"Is that normal for you, girls chasing you through the library?" Draco asked as they found an out of the way table and sat down with their meals.
Potter ducked his head in embarrassment. "Fairly normal, yeah," he admitted. "Sometimes it seems like half the female population is after me, and a quarter of the males as well."
"How did you gain such a celebrity status anyway?" Draco asked incredulously.
Potter flicked a glance at Draco, but his gaze skittered away immediately afterward. "Did some child acting when I was young, just adverts and the like. There were a few that grew quite popular, and for some reason people seem to remember them, unfortunately for me." He held Draco's gaze at that, pure confusion etched upon his face. Draco resisted the urge to laugh at how incongruous the emotion seemed with Potter's headstrong personality.
"Just a few popular adverts," Draco said in disbelief. "That somehow has the half the females here and a quarter of the males besides running after you like you're Colin Firth. Don't think I didn't notice how that girl glared at me," Draco continued accusingly as Potter began sputtering out a protest, "as though expecting me to know you without even needing a description."
Potter grimaced. "Alright, I might have been a child actor for a semi-popular drama that's currently all the rage with teenage girls," he allowed. "Anyway, it didn't last long, and it's not like I have any dear love of acting or its accompanying popularity. None of these girls seem to get that, though. It's annoying," he said in what sounded dangerously like a whine. He stabbed viciously at his salad.
Draco raised a brow. "Oh yes, what a shame, to have hordes of girls chasing after you," he droned sarcastically. "Just an absolute nightmare."
Potter gave a small chuckle. "Yeah, I know, I should be ecstatic," he said. "Honestly though, it gets tiring after a while. I don't want the fame. I don't really understand why I have it to begin with. But it's a moot point either way, since I don't-don't like girls." He stared firmly at Draco, as though daring him to comment on his hesitance. But Draco noticed how his jaw clenched in fear and his shoulders tensed warily.
"You're gay?" Draco wondered aloud, his eyes widening in surprise.
Potter's own eyes narrowed in response. "If you're homophobic, you can shove your opinions up your ass," he said fiercely. He angrily raked a hand through his hair and glared at his lunch.
"No, you tosser, I'm gay myself," Draco began heatedly, the confession pulled from him, but then he noticed something he hadn't seen before. "That's an odd-looking scar," he said curiously, his irritation draining away. He gestured to the lightning bolt shaped mark marring Potter's forehead. Potter gave a nearly imperceptible flinch, but Draco caught it anyway. "How did you get it?"
Potter's lips tightened. "That's not something I'm willing to share," he said quietly, shocking Draco with the change in his attitude.
Still, Draco understood where Potter was coming from. He inclined his head in acknowledgement. "We all have our secrets," he agreed. His own were largely encapsulated by a stupid mistake, burned forever into the flesh of his left forearm and symbolizing a stretch of Draco's life he was glad to have left behind him. He and Potter were silent for a stretch, caught up in old memories.
"Tell me about yourself," Potter said finally, breaking the silence.
Draco hummed, gathering his thoughts. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had asked him that question due to an actual desire to get to know him. It raised other questions Draco hadn't thought he would need to consider, since he'd assumed he wouldn't see the man again after this chance encounter: What could he afford to share? How much was he comfortable revealing to the other man? "Eighteen, studying law," he said. "I like green apples, I hate sweets, and I'm highly independent."
"Eighteen, also studying law," Harry responded, surprise and pleasure coloring his tone. "I like reading but only if it isn't required for class, and I enjoy a game of rugby from time to time."
Draco grimaced. "I certainly don't," he said with a disdainful snort. "All that sweat and bodily contact. It's utterly undignified."
Potter released a disbelieving chuckle. "Says the man wearing a black long-sleeved shirt," he pointed out, nodding towards Draco's choice of dress. "Why the disparity?"
Draco froze mid-bite, barely resisting the urge to glance at his left arm to ensure that it was still hidden. Should he tell the truth? Immediately he knew he couldn't do that. Oddly enough, he liked Potter and enjoyed his company. He couldn't bear the disgust Potter would surely feel if he knew the truth. Should he lie and say the library was cold? But he knew instinctively that Potter wouldn't appreciate deception, and regardless, he didn't want to lie to Potter anyway. What was it about the man that Draco found so compelling?
Draco bottled away his internal turmoil for the time being. He knew his eyes looked unfocused, gazing into space as the memories crashed over him unbidden. "To hide a mistake," he finally offered, and he knew that Potter understood.
They finished their meal in silence.
When they stood up to leave, Potter offered to walk Draco to wherever he was headed next. Draco wondered why Potter was so eager to spend more time with Draco, but he didn't voice his thoughts. Instead, he simply said, "I'm done with classes for the time being, so I'm just headed back to my dorm," and Potter nodded and fell in step, chatting amiably as they walked.
Draco almost didn't realize they'd already reached their destination, caught up in conversation as he was. He was strangely reluctant to let Potter leave, likely for good, but he had no reason to ask Potter to stay. "I'll see you around, then," he said politely.
"Yeah," Potter said absently, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Draco filed the information away, just as he had been doing during the time they had spent together, despite knowing he likely would have no use for it in future. "I had fun with you," Potter said finally. "In fact, I think I'd like to take you out sometime."
"I'm sorry, what?" Draco asked, sure he'd misheard Potter somehow. "You mean, on a date."
Potter nodded in affirmation. Draco couldn't hold back a self-deprecating snort.
"You don't really mean that," he said. "You wouldn't, anyway, if you knew the truth."
Potter looked at Draco skeptically. "So tell me the truth," he prompted. "I doubt it's really as bad as all that. Come on, you're interesting, you're witty, you're attractive. At least give me a chance."
Draco laughed but there was no humor in the sound. "You think that now, but you have no idea. I was known as the Ice Prince back home, did you know?" he revealed. "Draco Malfoy, the heartless bastard with a perpetual stick up his ass, the emotional range of a rock, and lips that are probably cold as ice." The insults rolled easily off his tongue due to the frequency with which they'd been flung at him in the past. They didn't hurt him anymore as they once had, but perhaps they would warn Potter away.
Briefly, Draco wondered why he was trying to push Potter away in the first place. What would be so bad about letting him in? Potter certainly seemed as though he knew the meaning of discretion, and he acted like he was genuinely interested in Draco. Selfishly, Draco tried to convince himself that it would be fine to see where things went with Potter.
But he had built his walls and caged away such vulnerabilities for a reason, and regardless of how much he wanted it, Draco wasn't going to let Potter break them down.
"Trust me," Draco said firmly. "You don't want to date me. You want to leave before you end up hurting yourself unnecessarily."
Instead of looking revolted or scared, as Draco had hoped he might, Harry looked horrified. "That's awful," he said vehemently. "Idiots who say things like that would change their minds in an instant if they got to know you. The real you."
"No one knows the real me, Potter," Draco said emotionlessly. Not even me, he thought to himself. He turned away to unlock his door.
Potter rested a hand on Draco's arm then, startling Draco. "Wait," Potter said, turning Draco to face him. Draco tried to take half a step back as he realized Potter was standing much closer than he had been before, but Potter had blocked him in against the door and there was nowhere he could go. He tried to block out the panic threatening to engulf him as Potter leaned in towards him, clearly broadcasting his intent and giving Draco ample time to pull away or stop him.
Draco remained frozen and wide-eyed, unable to respond. Then Potter's lips covered his own, and he finally found himself able to move. He pressed into that delicious friction, giving back just as good as he got. He registered Harry pushing him into the door and welcomed the support when, just seconds after latching onto Draco's, Potter's lips ghosted up his jaw to his ear. "Definitely not cold as ice," Potter whispered. Draco shivered involuntarily.
Then Potter was gone, leaving a cold absence in his stead. Draco absently raised his hand to his lips, as though to catch the kiss Potter had just given him and keep it there, and watched Potter leave without looking back even once. There was a bounce in his step that Draco knew hadn't been there earlier. As Draco watched Potter disappear, he was left wondering, what the hell had just happened?
