"Where were you, mate?"

Ron dug into his mashed potatoes with all the grace of a stumbling Hippogriff, and Harry noticed that for the first time in weeks Ginny was sitting with them.

Harry could lie. He could make up some excuse, but he was a shit liar, so he decided to go with the truth.

"I was with Malfoy."

Ron's hands flew to his mouth as his eyes widened almost comically.

"Harry," he said through a mouthful of potatoes. "If you're gonna joke around, don't do it while I eat."

Ginny peered closer at him. Harry gulped. "Erm, I wasn't joking, actually, Ron."

Hermione raised a brow. Ginny frowned.

"What do you mean, you were with Malfoy?" Ron asked.

"I mean I told McGonagall the truth about what happened with him and the boys. Then I walked him to her office."

"Why on earth would you walk him to her office?"

"Because he asked me to."

"Because he- Harry, do you even hear yourself right now?"

"Why were you defending him in the first place?" Ginny asked. "He's not worth the dirt beneath your shoe."

It was Harry's turn to frown. His friends' comments of the blonde-haired Slytherin were beginning to get old. After seeing Malfoy so hurt and vulnerable earlier this week, all his contempt towards the grey-eyed boy had swiftly evaporated.

"Because he didn't do anything wrong," Harry argued. "Justin, Dean, and Seamus attacked him unprovoked. I just know it."

"Wasn't he just attacked earlier this week as well?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded solemnly. "Yes, he was. This is exactly what I'm talking about. Malfoy is being targeted, and nobody cares enough to stop it from happening."

"You're saying you do?" asked Ginny, and why was she all of a sudden so up in his grill?

"What's it to you if I do or don't?" Harry asked bitterly. "You left me because I wasn't good enough for you in bed."

"There was more to it than that, and you know it, Harry."

"Was there really, now?"

"Harry," Hermione said in warning.

"No, Hermione, let me talk to her. Let me ask her why she thought breaking up with me because I wasn't good enough in bed was a good idea."

"Harry, stop."

"Let me ask her why she left me when everything was perfect-"

"You know that's not true," interjected Ginny.

"Relationships are a two-way street," said Harry. "I'm not a mind-reader. If something doesn't feel right, you have to communicate that with me. You can't just keep it all bottled up inside and hope for the best."

"I didn't-"

"If one person thinks the relationship is fine and the other one doesn't, that's a problem all on its own," said Harry. "I thought that everything was perfect with us."

"Can we please not do this now?" Ron groaned.

Ginny glared at her brother before returning her gaze to Harry. "That was exactly it, Harry. You were trying too hard to be perfect."

"I- What?" Harry spluttered, because what?

"You were always so gentle and sweet with me, which was great, honestly, but sometimes . . . Sometimes, it could be a little too much. That's all."

So Harry was too much for her. Great. That was just great.

Before Harry could respond, he heard two people slide into the space next to him. He glanced to his left. Seamus and Dean.

"Hey, Harry," greeted Dean, though he did not sound too happy. Harry sighed.

"Hi."

"Did you tell McGonagall about what we did to Malfoy?"

Harry's chest lurched.

"I mean . . ."

"You did, didn't you?" scoffed Seamus. "You actually told her."

"He doesn't deserve to be punished for something he didn't do," said Harry, and what was he doing? Why was he defending Malfoy in front of all his friends?

Dean and Seamus exchanged a look. "Doesn't deserve it?" echoed Seamus. "Of course he does. Do you even remember what he and his family did in the war?"

"Of course I remember," Harry spat. "Doesn't make it okay to bully him. It means you're no better than the people you fought against."

"I don't see it as bullying if it's giving him a taste of his own medicine," said Dean.

"Has he ever hurt the two of you personally?" Harry asked calmly.

"No, but he's insulted our blood type, our house, just about everything worth insulting."

"And how long ago did he do this?"

"Does it matter how long ago?" Dean exclaimed. "Besides, that's not even the real reason why we did it. He was a Death Eater, Harry. He should have gone to prison. Instead, he got off scott free, thanks to you, which is already bad enough, and expects to just come back here and act like nothing's changed."

Harry didn't agree. He thought that everything had changed with Malfoy. He kept his head down as he walked, he didn't bully or target other kids, and his entire demeanor had shifted, and he wasn't sure if it was for the better. Sure, Harry might have been glad he wasn't his old arrogant self anymore, but this new Malfoy unnerved him because he just seemed so . . . Miserable.

"And I'd do it again," said Harry. "I believe he deserves a second chance, and if you don't agree? That's too bad."

Ginny stared at him, shell-shocked, too stunned to respond. Ron's bite of mashed potatoes fell out of his mouth.

"Lots of people want second chances, Harry," said Hermione quietly. "It doesn't mean they deserve them."

"Why did you reject his apology?" He rounded on her. "When he came to you, practically on his knees, apologizing for everything, you pushed him away. Why?"

"I didn't think he meant it!" Hermione exclaimed. "After everything he's done, do you honestly think that he's sorry?"

"Actually yeah, based on the way he's behaved this year, I think he is."

"You would only know if you've been watching him, mate," said Ron, and Harry internally cursed because he was right.

Hermione sighed. "We had about enough of you watching him sixth year, Harry."

"I'm not watching him, I just . . . I notice things. About him."

If Harry was being perfectly honest, they were treading into dangerous territory, and he did not feel comfortable veering this far off the path of normalcy with Ginny around.

"Yeah, cause that's normal," Ron scoffed. "You two hate each other. You shouldn't be going out of your way to notice him."

Harry didn't think he could help it. Malfoy seemed to be at every corner he turned.

"I don't go out of my way to do anything," Harry defended.

"You went out of your way to help him after he got hurt," Hermione pointed out. "Multiple times, actually."

Harry couldn't really argue with that, now, could he?

"I- He-"

"For goodness sakes," said Hermione, "just admit you care about him so the rest of us can move on with our lives."

How could Harry sit there and lie to all his best friends? He did care for the Slytherin. That much he knew for sure. But to what extent did he care?

"I don't-"

"For fuck's sake, Harry," growled Ron. "Hermione told me all about that stunt you pulled in the common room. You took him to the hospital wing after he got hurt. Why?"

"I for one have no idea what's going on here," said Dean, gesturing to the scene unfolding around him, "but, Harry, can you care to tell us why you thought it was a good idea to rat us out to McGonagall? We've got detention for the rest of the year now."

"Because you were lying. You attacked him," said Harry plainly, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "He was defenseless, you knew his wand was restricted, and you attacked him anyway."

"He deserved it," seethed Seamus. "And I'd do it again."

"What makes you say that?" asked Harry.

Seamus looked at Harry as though he'd grown a second head. "What do you think?"

"Because he fought on the other side of the war?"

"Because he was a fucking Death Eater. He took a Mark on his arm that branded him to the cause, so he stood for everything they stood for."

"You don't know what you're talking about," said Harry darkly. "You have no idea what you're saying right now."

"Harry," said Dean, "Malfoy was a Death Eater whether you like it or not. I dunno what this thing is that you've got for him, if it's some sort of crush or whatever it is, but you need to face the facts. He hurt people. He practically got off on it. And one measly little apology isn't going to do diddly squat."

Harry immediately hopped on the defense.

"A crush! Are you out of your mind?"

"Would explain a lot," said Ginny.

"I do not- A crush- That is the most outrageous- A crush?"

Harry was vaguely aware he was blushing. He'd noticed quite an alarming pattern: every time someone brought up his possible feelings for Malfoy, or the deviation of his sexuality in general, he got all flustered. It hadn't done him any favors before, and it certainly wasn't doing him any now.

"He killed people for fun, and you like him? You sick fuck," seethed Seamus.

"When did we establish that I liked him? I do not like him," said Harry.

"I thought you'd be on our side in this," said Dean. "We thought that you'd have our backs. Guess we were wrong."

"Oh, don't be so cryptic," Harry snapped. "You had to know the truth wouldn't stay buried forever. Someone else would have found out eventually."

"No one else would have believed him. What makes you so sure he didn't attack us?" asked Dean.

"Because I know him," said Harry. "He may have long ago, but he is not that person anymore." Harry wasn't even sure why he was getting so defensive over Malfoy, or why he felt so compelled to speak on his behalf. He felt feverish, like any second he was going to wake up from this hideous nightmare.

"People don't change that easily," said Ron. "Especially not Malfoy."

"You think he liked torturing those people?" Harry asked harshly, causing everyone else to flinch and shut up. "Can you honestly sit there and tell me that it probably didn't make him sick to his stomach every time he pointed a wand at somebody?"

"Nobody forced him to become a Death Eater," said Seamus. "He did that all on his own."

"Do you really think it was on his own?" Harry pressed. "Do you really think Voldemort didn't have everything to do with it?"

"Whether he did or didn't doesn't matter, Harry," said Hermione quietly. "No matter what he did during the war, he's still prejudiced and racist."

"Maybe he's changed." Harry felt like he was grasping at straws. "Maybe he doesn't feel that way anymore."

"I highly doubt it," said Ron.

"You don't really know until you talk to him. Which, obviously, none of you have. So you can't really sit here and point fingers when you don't have the whole story."

"Do enlighten us, Harry," drawled Ron. "Please, tell us all about how marvelous he is now and how his soul has undergone so much healing-"

"Stop talking, please, just stop talking."

"Yeah, tell us, Harry," snarled Ginny. "Tell us about how his eyes sparkle when the light hits them just right-"

"Stop."

"Leave him alone," said Hermione coldly. "I can't take another second of this childish fighting. Whether Malfoy has changed or not doesn't matter because in a matter of months, we won't ever have to see him again. Can't we all just move on and stop talking about him?"

Hermione's comment hit him like a freight train. Merlin, but she was right.

In a matter of months, we won't ever have to see him again.

In a matter of months, Harry would never see Malfoy again. He had no reasonable or palatable explanation for why the thought filled him with such dread.

"I think we're finally onto something here," said Ginny, a cruel glint in her eyes. "Harry, care to explain why you haven't denied any of our accusations?"

"Why should I have to? You're going to believe what you want."

That floored her. "I-I . . . At least I know what I want out of a relationship and how to go after it!"

"You're bringing our relationship into this? Really? That's low."

"There was no passion with us, Harry, no spark."

And wow, did that hurt. Harry had thought there'd been a spark.

"Oh," he said stupidly, and really? So he said, "Y-You're really going to tear apart our relationship in front of everybody, Gin?"

Ginny scoffed. "Real adorable of you to pretend you care about our relationship. You were relieved when I broke up with you; admit it."

"Relieved!" Harry exclaimed, flabbergasted. "I was the furthest thing from relieved, Ginny. I was heartbroken. Completely and utterly heartbroken."

Ginny's face, set in a frown, morphed into an expression of disbelief.

"You just . . . left me, without talking about anything," said Harry thickly, and to his dismay he realized he was close to tears. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.

"I didn't think it could be fixed," said Ginny quietly.

"Well, now you'll never know, will you?"

"Harry-"

"But I'm in love with Malfoy? Right? Is that it?"

"Harry, I didn't know you-"

"Of course you didn't know, Ginny. You never asked. That was always your problem, wasn't it?"

At that moment, Harry realized that if Ginny were to try to take him back, he wouldn't even want her.

"I didn't think it all the way through. It was a rash decision," said Ginny.

"It's too late to change it now, Ginny."

"You mean you wouldn't want me back?"

"Want you back? Just a minute ago you were making fun of me admiring Malfoy's eyes. Why would I ever take you back?"

Ginny's lip wobbled. "Fuck you, Harry," she said softly, standing up and swiftly exiting the Great Hall.

Ron whistled lowly. "That escalated quickly."

"I never asked for it to," said Harry hotly.

"Listen, Harry," said Hermione. "The point I think we're all trying to make is, don't trust Malfoy. You don't know that he's a changed person. For all we know he's the same bigoted dickhead we started first year with. You don't know him. You don't talk to him. You don't see what he's like when nobody else is around."

"I've seen enough," said Harry, "and I know he's changed. For the better."

"Since when do you even spend time with him?" asked Ron.

"We don't 'spend time' together," Harry defended, ears going red from Dean and Seamus's kissing noises. "We see each other now and again, and we're also Potions partners."

"How adorable," crooned Dean.

"Would you knock it off?" Harry asked him.

"We're not too thrilled with you for spilling what happened to McGonagall," said Seamus. "That was supposed to be our secret."

"It was a dirty secret, and I'm not too thrilled with you for lying to me," said Harry. "You thought I wouldn't find out?"

Dean and Seamus hung their heads.

"Harry, Malfoy is very good at manipulating people, in case you've forgotten," said Hermione. "He might be acting a certain way around you, to get you to lower your guard so he can hurt you."

"I don't think Malfoy has any intentions of hurting me. Not anymore," said Harry.

Ron shook his head. "Mate, you are impossible."

Harry stood up. "I've had about enough of this. I'm going to get some air."

Draco trudged into the Great Hall, alone. Why was he here if he had no one to eat for anymore? If his friends hated him, they certainly wouldn't care if he did or didn't. So why was he here?

A nagging voice in the back of his head told him that it was alright to want to eat for yourself, was how it should be, even. He wasn't sure if he was ready to believe it.

He walked past Pansy, Blaise, Greg, and Millicent and found a vacant spot a little further down the table. He plopped down and began making himself a small plate.

All too soon, he heard the sound of someone sitting next to him.

"Care to explain what that was all about, darling?"

He startled. It was Pansy.

He whirled around to face her, plastering on the best sneer he could manage. "What's it to you?"

Pansy's brow crinkled in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Theo told me everything."

Pansy's eyes widened. "What did that dickhead say to you?"

Draco shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I'm not playing this game with you."

"What game?" Pansy sounded genuinely confused. "Can you please explain to me what's going on?"

"I know you all talked about me to him," Draco said carefully, willing himself to stay calm. "I know you told him I'm full of it. If that's how you really feel about me, then I don't know why you bother wasting your time on me."

"Draco, no! That's not how I feel at all! He said that to you?"

Draco scoffed. At this point, he didn't know whether Pansy was playing a cruel trick on him or not. He didn't know who he could trust, when Theo had brought up such a good point that he brought everybody down. For all he knew, they all hated him.

But then why did Pansy look so distraught?

Draco shook his head. "Let's not do this, Pansy."

Pansy reached forward for him, but he leaned away from her touch. "Don't touch me," he hissed.

"Draco, please don't listen to him. He lied to you. I don't think that about you, I promise I don't. You're one of the humblest and strongest people I know. I have so much admiration for you that you don't even know because I don't tell you because I don't do sappy or chummy but dammit if you don't deserve to hear it every once in a while, so I'm telling you now."

Draco felt his eyes widen. Pansy sounded like she was being sincere. And she was his best friend. Between her and Theo, it was suddenly all too clear who the culprit was.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, deflating and running a hand through his hair.

"Oh, Draco . . ." She gathered him into her arms, holding on tight. He squeezed her back, so hard he was afraid she would suffocate but he didn't think she cared.

"Please don't ever listen to him again," she said into his neck. Then she pulled away to look at him. "Promise me."

"I promise," Draco said automatically. He would have said anything to that tone of voice.

Pansy whacked him on the shoulder. "So will you please come sit with us now, you absolute wanker?"

Draco chuckled wetly, nodding and standing up to follow Pansy to their spot.

"There you are, Draco," Greg greeted as Draco sat down. However, no sooner than he sat down did he see none other than Harry Potter stand up and storm out of the Great Hall, alone. It was hard to tell from a distance, but Draco was pretty sure he could make out a scowl on Potter's face.

Intrigued, Draco's eyes followed Potter's disappearing figure until he was out of sight.

"What are you looking at?" Blaise asked him.

"Nothing," Draco said, but something in him compelled him to push his plate away and stand up. Was he really about to go follow Potter?

"Where are you going?" asked Pansy, and Draco couldn't have lied even if he'd wanted to.

"Going to see what's up with Potter," he said casually, and left a gaping group of Slytherins in his wake. As he rounded the corner outside the Great Hall, he barely saw Potter's figure retreat behind an alcove before he disappeared from sight again. Determined now, Draco set after him, quickening his pace.

Once Draco was within earshot, he called out, "Potter!"

Potter must have jumped a foot in the air. He swiveled around, a harsh glare on his face, but his expression softened when he saw Draco.

"Malfoy?" Potter took a tentative step closer to him.

Draco continued forward. "I-I saw you leave dinner," he began lamely.

Potter cocked an eyebrow. "And you decided to follow me because . . .?"

Think, Draco, think!

"I, er . . ."

Potter crossed his arms, but he did not look angry.

"I saw you looked upset. And I figured . . ." He trailed off, not knowing how to finish that sentence because the truth was, what Potter was feeling was none of Draco's business. Just because he cared how Potter felt didn't mean it was his business.

"You figured what?"

"I figured I'd talk to you. See what's up."

Draco had never felt more pathetic in his entire life. Potter had every reason to walk away from him right now, without breathing a word. But somehow, he didn't.

"Well, if you want to know what's up . . ." Potter scratched his head. "My friends are giving me lots of trouble, actually. About you."

Draco felt his heart start to work. Potter was talking about him? To his friends?

"T-They are?"

"Yes." Potter took a step closer to him.

"Why?" Why was I coming up in conversation?

Potter gave him a most unreadable look. Draco felt nervous.

"Dean and Seamus weren't too happy with me for telling the truth."

Draco had to swallow a gasp, because Harry had stuck up for him to his friends?

"I can't imagine they were," said Draco faintly.

"They had a lot of things to say, about me and you." Another step closer. Draco exhaled shakily.

"Like what?"

Potter threw his head back, tossing his arms up in the air. "They think I care about you."

Hurt flared through him like a dove spreading its wings.

"Oh." Draco couldn't bring his mouth to form more words than that. He felt light and floaty, like at any moment he would collapse. Of course Potter didn't care about him. And that was his entire point of this conversation, wasn't it, to raise Draco's hopes and then send them crashing back down to the ground by telling him that no, in fact, he didn't care.

"They think I like you, because I stuck up for you. Isn't that absurd?"

Draco felt as though Potter had ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped on it. Of course it was absurd. Potter would never like him back.

Wait a minute.

Like him back?

Did that mean . . . That meant . . .

No.

No, no.

No.

That meant he liked Harry Potter.

"Y-Yeah." Draco forced out a chuckle. It sounded strained even to his own ears. "That's crazy."

Potter peered at Draco closer. "Do you care? About me?"

Draco's eyes widened from the sheer bluntness of the question. "I-I . . . I mean, I dunno."

Potter furrowed his dark brows. "What do you mean, you dunno? What kind of an answer is that?"

"What kind of a question is 'do I care about you?' Why are you asking me that?"

"Just answer the question, Malfoy."

How was Draco supposed to answer a question like that? His options were to either lie or be completely and utterly humiliated. Normally, he'd jump straight to lying. But something in Potter's expression, something raw and vulnerable, made him halt.

"How am I supposed to answer that when I don't know what you're going to do with the information?"

"It stays between us," Potter said hurriedly, taking another step closer. "Whatever you want to tell me, it stays secret."

Draco resisted the urge to reach forward and take his hands. Since when did he feel these types of things for Potter? He wondered if he had for a while, and had just done an incredibly good job at suppressing it.

"You promise?" Draco asked, and could he sound anymore like a six year old?

Potter nodded. "Promise."

"I . . ." This was it. Draco could either be honest and admit he'd come to care for the green-eyed boy, or continue to hide under his mask of steel that had never failed him before.

"I suppose you could say after you saved my skin last week, I've come to care for you a little bit, Potter."

Potter frowned. What had Draco done wrong?

"That's it, then? That's the only reason?"

And shit, Draco hadn't thought about how that might come across. He remembered Potter's words echoing through his brain:

Kindness doesn't have to be transactional.

"I mean . . ." Draco felt like his heart was about to explode. "You- I-"

Potter sighed. "My friends try to tell me that you haven't changed. I think you have. Take that for what you will."

Draco's eyes widened. He couldn't believe his ears. Potter had just uttered the very words he'd been wanting to hear from him since the beginning of term.

"Y-You think I've changed?"

Potter nodded instantly. "Absolutely. Anyone would be blind not to see it. They're refusing because they're stuck on a version of you that no longer exists."

"It's still me," Draco insisted weakly. "I still did all of those things."

"I know," Potter said. "But you apologized for it, and aren't doing it anymore. That shows growth, and it's worth acknowledging, whether you agree or not."

Draco didn't know what he'd done in a past life to deserve this. He must have been some kind of saint, polar opposite from how he was now. Now, all he seemed to be capable of doing was hurting people.

He gasped quietly. "You really think so?"

Potter nodded again. "I do."

"So you . . . And your friends . . . Your friends think I'm . . . I haven't changed." He suddenly lost his ability to talk. His heart was beating wildly, and his hands felt clammy and wet.

Potter nodded yet again. "Frankly, I don't care what they think. I see a difference in you, almost too much of a difference to be honest. I notice the way you walk around when you think nobody's watching, Malfoy."

Draco grasped his arms and dug his nails deep into the skin. His dress shirt protected him, but in response he only pressed harder.

"I notice how you skip meals, how you walk with your head down when you're alone. How the bags under your eyes seem to get worse with each passing month. Malfoy, you look like you're dying on the inside."

If Potter thought Draco was going to stand here and tolerate this pathetic excuse of an intervention, he was dead wrong.

Mask springing back up, he spoke. "What's it to you, Potter?" he spat venomously. "Incase you haven't noticed, I don't have the most pleasant sign on my back. I know you're all distracted with everybody kissing the ground you walk on, but some of us have real problems to deal with. Namely ones that involve the entire school hating you for choices you made with a wand to your head."

Potter's eyes widened. "Just in case you haven't noticed, Malfoy, I don't particularly enjoy having a fanclub that tracks my every move. I never asked to be the hero, and I certainly never asked for my parents to die. You used to make fun of me all the time for not having a family; how do you think that made me feel?"

"That was wrong of me," Draco said quietly, "and I'm sorry."

Potter's expression softened. "It's alright," he said. "Well . . . It isn't, but, it was a long time ago, and I'm over it now."

Was he really, though, if he thought to bring it up now? Draco decided it would be wiser not to comment on that.

"I did a lot of things I regret, both at school and during the war," said Draco, and he didn't know what was compelling him to spill all this, only that he needed Potter to understand. "I regret ever taking the Mark. I know it was all my fault. If it weren't for me, people wouldn't have died. I didn't- I can't-"

"Malfoy." Potter placed his hands on Draco's shoulders, steadying him. Draco sucked in air like a vacuum.

"Do not put the weight of the war on your shoulders, understand? That is not your burden to bear."

"T-Then why does it feel like it?"

"Because you were directly involved. It's something called Survivor's Guilt. It's a real thing, and you probably have it. Hermione told me about it from a Muggle textbook she read."

"That sounds like a load of rubbish," said Draco.

Potter let go of him. Draco's shoulders tingled where his touch lingered.

"It sounds like it, but once I read more into it, it actually made a scary amount of sense," said Potter. "If you like, I can get her to lend the book to you."

Draco scoffed. "In what world would Granger ever lend a book to me?"

"I'll tell her I want to read over it again. She'll believe me."

"I thought Granger couldn't be lied to. That girl is so clever she knows everything."

"She knows how much I struggled after the war," said Potter. "If I want to take another look at the book to remind myself that things aren't my fault, she won't blink twice."

"You don't think that, do you?" Draco asked, horrified. "That things are . . . your fault?"

Potter averted eye contact. "Maybe not the war," he said to the floor. "But certain deaths . . . I can't help but . . . Never mind." He looked up at Draco. His green eyes looked like they were begging for someone, anyone, to understand. Draco was starting to think he might.

"What is it? Tell me," Draco urged him.

Potter sighed. "You don't want to hear about this."

"Try me."

Potter gave him a look that he couldn't discern. "People sacrificed their lives. For me. And it's . . . a bit overwhelming, to say the least."

"Maybe they thought you were worth it," said Draco. "Maybe they had faith in you. That you would see through to the end and save our world. Which you did."

Draco thought he saw the slightest traces of a smile bloom on Potter's face. Which encouraged him to say something he otherwise would have never dared admit aloud to anyone, least of all Potter.

"If I was fighting for you, I would have laid my life down for you in an instant."

Potter gasped. He took another step closer. Now they were almost close enough to kiss. Draco gulped. He couldn't believe he'd just admitted that. Why had he done that? Stupid stupid stupid stupid-

"You . . . You would have?"

"Yes," Draco said without hesitation. "I would have."

"Why, Malfoy?"

"Because I-" He bit his lip, silencing himself. Where had those words come from? What had he been about to say? No time to dwell on it now. Quickly recovering, he drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "Because you're worth it."

Potter's eyes softened. Gone was the hard, cold expression he so often wore around Draco. Gone was his frown that seemed to age his very skin. Gone was his guarded demeanor. Right now he was completely open, and all that remained was quiet, and utter disbelief.

"You really think so, huh?"

Draco nodded. He didn't think he'd ever been this honest with anyone, about anything. His chest felt lighter. He felt like he was soaring. However, there was the small matter of Potter's close proximity. If Draco concentrated really hard, he could hear Potter's soft exhales of breath and smell the intoxicating aroma of his aftershave. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. He needed to get back to safety before he did something stupid that would shatter this delicate truce they'd somehow created.

"Malfoy, I . . . I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Draco said kindly.

"I was wrong about you," Potter said quietly. "So wrong."

Oh, and how Draco ached. Here this beautiful man was saying all these . . . all these things, and he would never be able to tell Potter how he really felt because he was a coward and he didn't want to destroy this early blossom of friendship, and could he even call what they had friendship if all he wanted to do was snog Potter's lips right off his face?

"I was an arse. You weren't exactly wrong about that," Draco said lightly, hoping that his jest would ease some of the emotional intensity crackling in the air.

"You were a child."

"We were all children."

Potter looked heartbroken, and Draco wanted to cry. "We . . . I . . . It doesn't excuse what I did."

"Your father imparted horrible ideals onto you from an incredibly young age," said Potter. "It's a wonder you turned out halfway decent, to be terribly honest."

Draco scoffed. "Oh, so I'm halfway decent now? You really have a way with words, Potter."

"You know what I meant, you prat."

Draco couldn't suppress the smile fighting to form on his face. Here Potter was practically making him laugh. Was there any emotion this man wasn't capable of making him feel?

"So your friends," Draco began carefully, unsure how to properly broach this topic. "They think you like me. Why's that?"

Potter sighed. "Because I notice things about you. Little things. And because I stuck up for you. That really struck a nerve with them."

"What do you notice about me?" Draco couldn't help but ask.

"I already told you some of the things," said Potter. "In addition to those, I also notice how you love getting your hair played with. How you take your tea with two lumps but no milk. How loyal you are to your friends."

How did Potter know how he took his tea?

"H-How did you-"

"I spent an entire year stalking you, in case you've forgotten, Malfoy."

Draco felt a blush coat his cheeks. He couldn't just outright ask Potter if he liked him. That'd be outrageous.

"So they think you like me. H-How do you feel? About me?"

"How do I feel?" Potter looked surprised Draco even asked him the question. "No one . . . No one's ever asked me that before. Everyone just assumes and tells me how to feel."

"So I'm asking you," said Draco, unsure where this sudden bravery was coming from but he'd be damned if he wouldn't ride it out.

Potter's eyes widened. "Malfoy, I . . . I want to try something."

Draco's heart jackhammered. "T-Try something?"

"Shh." Potter brought a finger to Draco's lips, and Draco suppressed a shudder. It may have been the most erotic thing he'd ever experienced in his life.

"Just . . ." And Potter's tone was so soft- "Close your eyes. For a second."

He removed his finger from Draco's lips as Draco obeyed. He couldn't help but release a shuddering sigh that he was sure got all over Potter's face. But at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care because Potter was close to him and telling him to do things and fuck if it wasn't turning him on.

With his eyes closed, all his senses were heightened. He could feel Potter all around him, could feel his breath on his face, could feel Potter's hand . . . What was he doing?

Potter's hand landed softly on Draco's face. Draco was surely about to have a heart attack. He'd never once felt this nervous around Theo, not even the first time they had sex.

"Potter?" The word was barely more than a whisper.

The hand gripped his face softly, sliding up. Potter thumbed at his jaw ever so gently, and Draco had to be dreaming, right? Because people like him didn't get the one they liked, people like him didn't deserve happy endings.

And then Potter's lips were on his and Draco's entire earth shattered.

Draco gasped into the kiss, and it took him a solid three seconds to realize that he was supposed to respond. He was supposed to react.

So he kissed Potter back. Their lips tangled together in the most delicious way. Draco could have swooned.

He brought one of his useless arms up and tangled it in Potter's hair, and oh, it was softer than he'd imagined it would be. He brought his other arm around Potter's back and pulled him flush to his chest, hoping the action wouldn't scare the other boy off. But it seemed to have the opposite effect, for Potter groaned into the kiss and brought his hand into Draco's hair, tugging and pulling. Draco sighed, limbs turning to jelly. He staggered on his feet, planting a hand on Potter's shoulder to steady himself.

Potter took his other hand and snaked it around Draco's lithe waist, thumbing the skin. Draco felt a kaleidoscope of euphoria dance behind his eyes.

All too soon Potter broke apart from him, panting, wide-eyed. Draco caressed his face as they still shared the same air and caught their breath. Suddenly, Potter flinched away from him.

"Shit, Malfoy, I'm sorry. This was . . . That was . . ."

And oh, god oh god oh god oh god. Draco felt his heart plummet. He felt like one of those Muggle automobiles, whose engines had been all revved up and then abruptly turned off.

"Potter, I-"

"This was a mistake."

Draco's blood ran cold. He reeled back in shock, feeling his defenses rapidly springing up.

"A-A mistake."

"I felt nothing. That was . . . Nothing. It was nothing. I'm sorry, Malfoy. I didn't mean to violate you."

Violate him?

"But I-"

Potter took one last look at him and bolted.

Draco leaned against the wall, feeling a surge of hurt well up in his chest. He balled his hands into fists and bit his tongue to keep from crying out in frustration. He was already close enough to tears as it was. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt an oncoming sob. He swallowed it down to the best of his ability, which wasn't much.

Potter was repulsed by him. Potter was disgusted by him.

He had been a fool. People like him didn't get happy endings.