A/N: This chapter brings an end to the retconned material. Everything from this point forth is fresh writing. I think the chapters end up getting a little longer on average as well, so there's plenty to look forward to.

If you've stuck with this story for this long, I admire you a lot, and I promise it's about to get a lot better. Thanks so much to anyone still reading this. Reviews, as always, are adored.

Chapter 4

Draco's alarm woke him the next morning. He clawed himself into an upright position, feeling groggier than he normally did, and rubbed his eyes blearily. As he did, his shirt sleeve rubbed against his cheek, and he stared at it in confusion, wondering why he hadn't changed before sleeping.

Then the previous night rushed back to him in a blur, and he released a frustrated groan, his head falling back until it thunked into his headboard.

He stayed like that for a minute, letting himself wallow in embarrassment and self-recrimination. His words from the previous night barrelled through his mind, making it difficult to think straight. Then he dragged himself out of bed and headed to the bathroom to transform himself into something resembling human. He returned to his room to wallow some more and then, having done a suitable amount of that, to organize his thoughts regarding Potter and figure out how to proceed.

Potter put paid to that strategy roughly two seconds after Draco closed the door behind him, and really Draco should have seen that coming as Potter seemed to have a penchant for ruining all of Draco's carefully constructed plans.

A bright yellow sticky note caught Draco's eye from where it was plastered to his desk, the non-adhesive side lifting slightly from the wooden surface. Draco made his way across the room and peeled the note off so he could read it.

I'm free all day. Text me if you want to talk. -H

Scrawled underneath in the same messy chicken scratch was a phone number. Draco quickly pulled out his own phone and dialed the number in as a new contact, attaching Potter's name to it when he was prompted. Then he shot off a quick text, asking Potter to meet him in the library where they'd first met so many weeks ago, and waited anxiously for a reply.

Though he got one just a few moments later, Draco lingered in his room, hesitating. If he met up with Potter now, he could no longer continue pretending his relationship with Potter was little more than a series of ill-advised coincidental encounters, fated to collapse onto itself as quickly as it had begun. It was not an enticing outcome, and to Draco's chagrin, he found himself seriously considering hiding in his room until this situation went away.

"Malfoys are not cowards," he said to himself, the words an echo of a sentiment he had heard all too often when he was younger. He grimaced at the unwanted memories and pushed them back like he had been unable to do the previous night. Despite the unpleasant shudder that passed through him, however, the words had their desired effect, propelling him through his door and towards the library before he lost his courage again.

Within moments, Draco was walking up the stairs to the floor where he was supposed to meet Potter, buying himself some time to gather his wits by foregoing the lift. "Malfoys don't run and hide," he whispered to himself sternly, trying for the same nonchalant attitude he was known for. And really, what did it say about him that he had to talk to himself in order to prepare for a simple conversation? He didn't particularly want to know. "Malfoys take control of the situation and turn it to their advantage." The words soured his mouth, calling forth images of his father and his associates.

Draco let them come. Emotional distance was just what he needed right now. Potter had the vexing ability to bodily drag Draco's emotions from the cage wherein he had confined them long ago. His unflinching honesty had wormed past all of Draco's defenses. When had Draco last met such a sincere person? He couldn't remember. His life had been so full of lies and deceit that it was all he knew.

So he continued repeating the maxims his father had ingrained in him since birth, a reminder that Potter couldn't possibly be real. Something had to give.

When Draco reached the correct floor, he paused for one more brief moment, squaring his shoulders before turning the corner and coming face-to-face with Potter, who was sitting at the same desk Draco had been sitting at when they first met. Draco strode forward and sat at the other chair pulled up to the desk, presumably by Potter since Draco didn't remember the desk ever having had a second chair any of the numerous times he had used it. Neither boy said anything.

Potter was the first to break the silence. "It seems pretty obvious to me what we should do," he declared quietly. "You like me, I like you, there's no reason to keep dancing around each other."

"I can think of plenty of reasons," Draco started, but Potter cut him off.

"But you won't share any of them, will you," Potter said, his inflection indicating the statement wasn't a question. Draco looked away to avoid admitting Potter was right. "So it doesn't matter, then. It's just a date, Draco. I'm not asking you to divulge your deepest secrets from the start. There's a chance we won't even work as a couple. But I like you. I'm drawn to you, and I don't want to miss this opportunity because you're scared."

Draco bristled. "I'm not scared," he spat out, glaring at Potter. He tried to dissuade Potter one last time. "You're right that it won't last long, though. I'm broken, Potter, I don't think that's made it through that thick skull of yours."

"As if I'm not?" Potter challenged. Draco's eyes widened in surprise, but suddenly he remembered Potter's skittish behavior when Draco had asked about his scar. It seemed Potter had his own secrets; Draco was surprised he'd managed to forget this vital piece of information. "I'm not looking for perfect, Draco. I'm just looking for happiness."

Draco said nothing, sifting through Potter's words and formulating a reply. Potter apparently took his silence for rejection, for he stood up with a sad smile. "Look, I get it. If you don't want to get out with me, I won't bug you again. I just thought it was worth a try." He hesitated a moment longer, and then turned around to walk away.

Draco made a decision. It was just one date, after all. And here, so far from his father's influence and the bloodied skeletons rattling in his closet, Draco couldn't justify letting fear dictate his life. Potter was right; he was only refusing to take this plunge because he was afraid. But Draco was done being afraid.

"Alright," he said. "One date, Potter. We'll see how it goes from there." Potter turned back towards him uncertainly, and Draco turned his gaze away again, tracing the wood grain of the desk with his eyes. "I'm not ready to come out to the world as a whole, though," he admitted quietly, wondering if Potter would be content to keep their relationship secret. He hadn't thought about the fact that after putting himself completely on the line, this one detail could turn it all on its head.

But he needn't have worried. "Then we'll cross those bridges when we get to them," Potter said dismissively. "Anyway, if you're agreeing to this, then you should call me Harry, right?" His eyes were bright, and he wore an infectious, easy grin that had Draco instinctively grinning in response. Pot-Harry's easy openness made it easy to trust him. Draco was still wary about the potential consequences that could come to pass, but for the first time, he didn't want to let those consequences hold him back.

"Well, if you insist, Harry," he drawled imperiously, with a melodramatic roll of his eyes. He couldn't let Harry think he was a total pushover, after all.

Harry just laughed and pulled Draco into a short but passionate kiss that left Draco slightly flustered and wondering why his lips tingled. Harry entwined his fingers with Draco's and tugged him out of the chair. "Do you have class?" he asked.

Draco shook his head. "Not for a few hours," he replied, and immediately Harry jerked him forward, pulling him along such that he had to either match Harry's pace or be left to trip over himself gracelessly in an effort not to go sprawling to the ground.

"Then we're having our first date right now," Harry declared, mercifully releasing his grip as they neared the stairs so that Draco could balance himself. "My treat, obviously." He reached the bottom of the stairwell before Draco could and waited impatiently for Draco to finally step onto the ground floor. Then he had hold of Draco's hand again, scarcely waiting for Draco to regain his footing before pulling him along again.

Despite himself, Draco was helpless but to follow.