"You gotta tell us who your soulmate is," said Blaise.

The group of friends was sitting together by the crackling fireplace. In spite of the warmth from the flames, Draco shivered.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I know who it is," Pansy sing-songed.

She and Draco had owled over the summer, and as soon as Draco had found out he'd sent an owl to Pansy with tear marks on it explaining the whole thing.

Blaise glared at her. "Care to share?"

Pansy laughed.

"Whoever it is, they can't be that bad," said Greg. "You don't have any resentments toward anyone except Potter, and the universe wouldn't be that cruel."

Pansy bit her lip, looking away.

Draco drew a breath.

"Actually, Greg, it would."

Greg gasped. Blaise's hands flew to his mouth. Theo's mouth dropped open.

"No way," came Blaise's stony voice.

"It isn't," said Theo breathlessly.

"Tell me it isn't true," said Greg.

Draco thumbed his thin wrist. "It is," he whispered.

Blaise rounded on Pansy. "You knew about this, and you didn't tell us?"

Pansy shrugged. "It wasn't my information to tell."

"Why didn't you say anything?" exclaimed Theo to Draco.

"I didn't exactly want to announce it to the world!" said Draco. "It's bad enough I have a soulmate who will never want me. I don't need to be humiliated by my friends' pity as well."

Pansy was the only one who knew he loved Potter. The rest of them assumed he still harbored hatred and resentment toward the green-eyed git.

"But you don't want him, either," said Blaise carefully. "Right?"

Draco made eye contact with Pansy, before remembering he was supposed to answer Blaise. "Right."

Theo nodded. "Not much to want, in my opinion. He's a bit full of it."

Eager at the chance to deflect his feelings, Draco found himself nodding along with Theo's words.

"So full of it," he said. "I don't even know why he decided to come back. He could have any job he wants."

"Considering the Ministry kisses the very ground he walks on, the fact that he's back here is a joke," said Blaise.

"Mate, I'm sorry," said Greg, "but someone's gotta say it. I could see you and Potter happening."

Draco felt his chest contort. "What makes you say that?"

Greg chuckled. "You're always talking about him, he always manages to get a rise out of you, and you always go out of your way to get his attention. Some might even say you fancy him."

To his dismay, he felt his cheeks begin to heat up. This conversation was making a beeline for dangerous territory, and Draco absolutely couldn't have that.

"He was obsessed with you all during sixth year, stalking you and everything," said Pansy, and Merlin but she wasn't helping!

"Don't remind me," said Draco.

"You loved it, and you know it."

Draco stared back open-mouthed at her. He couldn't argue, and she knew it.

"So . . . Do you fancy him?" Greg asked.

Draco instantly shook his head. "Not in the slightest. How could I ever? He's . . . He's Potter."

Pansy and Blaise exchanged a grin.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, just . . . You're cute when you're in denial," Pansy chided. "It's written all over your face."

"I'm glad my dreadful soulmate situation is amusing to you all," said Draco.

"Draco, don't be like that," scolded Pansy, placing what was supposed to be a comforting hand on Draco's shoulder. But the gesture just felt stifling. Her manicured nails scratched lightly at the material of his robes. "We're just trying to talk to you."

"Maybe I don't want to talk about this anymore," said Draco. "It's humiliating enough that you all know; why should we dwell on it?"

"Because maybe there's a chance he likes you back," said Greg.

Draco felt a squeezing sensation in his sternum. Potter would never, ever like him back. That much was certain.

Potter would always give him dirty looks in the halls, would always roll his eyes whenever Draco shouted something at him. Albeit, the things Draco shouted wouldn't always be very nice, but Potter seemed to be annoyed by more than just his words. He seemed to be annoyed by Draco's mere existence.

Draco shook his head. "No," he said, a choked sort of laughter escaping him. "He doesn't."

Pansy, having knowledge that the rest of them did not, fixed him with a long, hard look. "You know, Draco, there's ways to remedy this situation. Ways that do not involve being a total and utter prat to him all the time."

"But he's a total and utter prat to me."

"Real mature, Draco. You two might just work out with that attitude."

"Are you saying you want things to work out between you and Potter?" asked Blaise skeptically.

Draco blushed something fierce. "No!" he exclaimed. "What makes you say that?"

"I dunno. I just have this feeling, that all your shit talking is really just an attempt to cover up how badly you want to snog his face off."

Draco decided to ignore everything that was just spoken. "Just because he's my soulmate doesn't mean I can't see other people. I can find someone else and be perfectly happy."

"But you and Potter are meant to be together," said Pansy. "It's literally embedded in the stars. Don't you, I dunno, want to at least try?"

Draco shook his head. "There's no point, Pans," he said softly. Then, resigned, he decided to reveal the truth to everybody, having already been so humiliated that it was impossible to feel even worse.

"He'll never want me back."

"So you do want him," said Blaise.

Draco sighed. "I have for a while now."

"We're all here for you," said Greg.

Theo nodded. "That tosser doesn't know what he's missing out on."

Draco was grateful for the words of support, although he had the smallest feeling they were empty. His friends knew there wasn't anything that could be done; it wasn't like he could force Potter to interact with him. Potter avoided him like the plague.

"Thanks, guys," he said, because he meant it. But he also felt exhausted from this conversation, the weight of the confession lifting off his shoulders made him feel light and airy and dizzy.

"Any time," said Blaise. "You know we're always here for you. This is no different. Potter can suck it for all we care."

An idea suddenly occurred to Draco. An idea so random, so crazy, so . . . daring, that he immediately dissociated from the conversation and thought about all the hypotheticals that could result from his idea. All the possibilities of him and Potter coming together flashed through his mind one by one like stills from one of those animated films the Muggles watched.

He could message Potter.

Was the idea creepy? Absolutely. Was he going to do it anyway?

"Draco, what are you thinking about?" Pansy asked him.

"Just how shitty the fates are."

"Incase you're forgetting, he stalked you for an entire year," said Pansy. "That's gotta mean something."

"Only to see how evil I was," said Draco dejectedly.

"You were never evil," Pansy hissed. His other friends nodded in agreement.

"I don't want to hear you say that about yourself," said Greg.

Draco sighed. "Whatever."

The conversation thinned out, and eventually it was time for everyone to head to class. Draco told the others he'd stay behind a minute, and it only took a bit of convincing for them to believe that he was alright to be by himself.

He glanced at his wrist. The name glanced back.

He drew in a deep breath, summoned the words in his head, and willed them to be sent to Potter:

Hey.

Now it was time to play the waiting game, if Draco was expecting a response. Which he wasn't, he told himself. He wasn't.

Which is why several minutes later when Draco's wrist tingled, with an incoming message, he nearly doubled over in shock.

I have my messages programmed to only accept people I know because I used to get so many of these. Who are you?

Of course Potter had to have his messages barricaded; he was a celebrity.

Closing his eyes, Draco thought of a response that would somewhat answer his question.

I'm afraid I can't say. That would definitely, very much ruin it.

Another tingle of his wrist, this time almost immediately.

Is this Dudley? I thought I told you to stop messaging me.

Whoever Dudley was, Draco sure didn't want to be them. But then he realized, he was probably even worse.

No, it's not Dudley. But I still can't say. Let's just say I'm an old friend.

Another tingle. Draco glanced down at his wrist to read the small writing.

What do you want with me?

Would it be weird if I just wanted to talk?

Talk about what?

Anything. Do you know how these sorts of things are supposed to go? I've never messaged anyone like this before.

You're the one coming to me and you don't know what you want to talk about? Usually people want to say how proud they are of me, how much of a hero I am. None of that from you?

That's not really my style. Also, I have a feeling you're sick of all the attention and bullshit.

An astute observation. Hermione, is that you?

Afraid not.

Who are you, then?

Can't say.

Alright. Well, in that case, why are you messaging me?

Can that I just want to talk be enough?

I already asked you what you wanted to talk about, you had no idea.

I actually have a very good idea. In fact, I've known what I've wanted to talk to you about for years. But I think in action it would in fact be a very bad idea, so I'm not going to say.

You refuse to say who you are, and you refuse to say what you want to talk about. No reason to be suspicious at all!

I promise I don't want to hurt you.

Thanks. I feel so much better now.

Draco sighed. This conversation wasn't going anywhere; Potter would stop responding, and would soon forget it even happened. He had to say something meaningful.

That wasn't very helpful, I'm sorry. What I mean is, I have a feeling if I tell you who I am, you'll stop messaging me.

Try me.

Still can't. I'm sorry.

Alright. Guess I can't force you to tell me. But could you at least tell me why you're messaging me? This isn't Ginny, is it?

Definitely not Ginny. And I'm messaging you because . . . because . . . well, I'm lonely. And I've recently found out who my soulmate is and don't know who else to talk to about it.

Why not? If I found out who my soulmate was, I wouldn't know who to tell first I'd be so happy.

That's sorta the thing. Mine is . . . Wait. You're eighteen. Why don't you have yours?

Draco knew exactly why Potter didn't have his. But he had to play along, didn't he?

I guess because of that stupid rule about holding a grudge towards your supposed soulmate. I haven't gotten mine because apparently I'm holding a grudge against them. Which I don't understand at all. I don't have anything against any girl. My best mate thinks it's some fan who's jealous of me.

Draco exhaled shakily as he realized that even if Potter didn't harbour any resentment toward him, the chances of him returning his affections were slim to none because Potter was straight.

Maybe it isn't a girl.

My friends told me that, too. I think they're just joking.

Why would I, a stranger, joke with you about something that serious?

Because it's funny to everyone but me?

I don't see what's so funny about you not having your soulmate. You turned eighteen; you should have it, or at least have some sort of hint who it is. These rules are fucked.

Why do you care?

Because like it or not, I know you.

I wish I knew you. Maybe I can think of a way to get you to tell me who you are.

Maybe eventually. Why ruin a good thing?

You're funny. I know plenty of funny people. This is going to be hard.

I wish I didn't have to make it so hard on you, but that's the way it has to be, unfortunately.

My god, you're infuriating.

You love it.

Maybe I do.

As much as I'm enjoying this, I have to get to class. I'll talk to you later.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Draco grinned as the message faded from his wrist with the tap of his finger. So Potter didn't completely hate the message-him. That was certainly a good thing.

"And they just . . . messaged me, out of nowhere. And refused to tell me who they were. I'm telling you guys, this has got to be Dudley playing one of his tricks again."

Harry sat with Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall for dinner, picking at his food.

"Why would Dudley want to mess with you?" Ron asked. "I thought the oaf apologized."

"Maybe he's bored," said Harry.

"Whoever's messaging you certainly is," said Hermione. "And you shouldn't entertain it. Block his pathway."

"But I want to figure out who it is," said Harry. "I already blocked my pathway to anyone I don't know personally, and that narrows down the possible choices considerably. I just want to know who is going out of their way to talk to me."

"They're obviously too afraid to confront you head on," said Ron. "But I think you should let this thing play out. Should be interesting."

"What did they say to you?" asked Hermione.

"Not much, other than wanting to talk about their soulmate. Which, come to think of it, they didn't say much about because they asked me about mine."

"What did you tell them?" asked Ron.

"The truth. That I don't have one yet."

"But why would they want to talk to you about theirs?" asked Hermione.

"Maybe they don't have theirs, either."

"This still seems really dodgy. I'd be careful, Harry."

"There's nothing they can do to hurt me," Harry said, thinking back to when the messenger had said that they hadn't wanted to hurt him. He knew better than to take those words completely at face value, but there was something about the way that message had come across that made Harry feel safe.

"That may be true, but you never know. They could be playing a trick on you," said Hermione.

"Somehow, this doesn't feel like that."

As if on cue, Harry's wrist tingled.

Hey.

Hey back.

Endearing. I'd almost think you were flirting with me.

Harry felt his cheeks begin to colour. He most certainly was not flirting with whoever this messenger person was, especially not if they were a man!

I don't even know which gender you are. How am I supposed to flirt with you?

Maybe you bat for both teams.

Harry heard Hermione clear her throat.

"What's going on? Did they message you?"

"Yeah."

"What'd they say?"

"Just 'hey.'"

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Ron, knowing how instantaneous the messaging system was. Harry was most not definitely going to tell him that they were discussing his potentially fluid sexuality. Nope, not at all.

What makes you say that? You know me, we've figured out that much. What is it about me that makes you think that I bat for both teams?

I was being hypothetical, but you're being awfully defensive for someone who isn't in denial. Listen. I've been where you are.

I highly doubt that.

I don't mean literally, you arse. I mean in terms of my sexuality.

Oh. Well, I think you're mistaken. I'm straight.

I used to think I was.

Well, I'm not you, now am I?

Fair point.

A point is typically the object of a conversation. Do you have one in particular, or are you just messaging me to confuse me about my sexuality?

If you're confused, then I'm afraid that's entirely on you.

Well, shit.

You can't just- What are you talking about?

It's pretty self explanatory. I don't make the rules. If you really are straight, then you wouldn't be confused.

I'm not confused. This conversation is what's confusing.

"Harry," hissed Hermione. "Stop talking to them."

"What are they saying now?" asked Ron.

"Nothing," said Harry, feeling very far away all of a sudden.

I'm not here to mess with you, or cause you to have an identity crisis. I meant what I said before. I just want to talk, in the only way that we can.

What is that supposed to mean?

"Harry-"

"They're saying they can't talk to me in person, that this is the only avenue of communication they have," said Harry. "I've never been so confused in my life."

"In spite of myself, I really wonder who it is," said Hermione.

It means if you knew who I was, we wouldn't be talking through here anymore, and here is the only chance for me to prove to you that I'm not the person you think I am.

I don't think anything of you- you're forgetting I don't know you.

But you do.

Harry wanted to kick a chair.

If you'll just tell me?

Nice try. You almost had me fooled.

What do you mean, you aren't the person I think you are?

It means I've done terrible things, I've hurt people, I've . . . Nevermind. I don't want to get into it and spoil the surprise. But the point is, I don't deserve to live a good life. Not after what I've done. But I'll be damned if I don't try my absolute hardest to get you to see that I've changed.

"Now what are they saying?"

Harry found it was hard to breathe. "They're saying . . . they aren't who I think they are."

"Sounds cryptic," said Ron.

"I wouldn't trust them," said Hermione.

"I don't," said Harry.

"And yet you're continuing to message them," said Ron.

Why do you care so much that I see that you've changed?

Unfortunately, I can't answer that right now.

What can you answer?

Not much, I'm afraid. But what I can tell you is that I can be here for you whenever you need to talk about anything.

I appreciate the sentiment, but that doesn't make any of what you're doing okay.

I know.

Harry looked up at his friends, feeling forlorn in spite of what his messenger had just confessed. This one had him stumped.