Draco wasn't expecting to hear from Potter again, which is why he was so shocked when his wrist tingled.

Hey.

Hey back.

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

Draco clenched his fingers tight into a fist.

"Draco, did you hear anything I just said?" Pansy drummed her fingers on the dining table. Draco looked up at her, startled.

"Why are you looking at your wrist?" Pansy narrowed her beady dark eyes. "Are you . . ." She gasped. "You're messaging someone. Aren't you?"

"What's it to you if I am?" Draco snapped.

"Oh, you are so messaging Potter, aren't you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You're blushing, for starters."

Draco's hands flew to his face. He couldn't lose control in front of Pansy, even though she was his best friend. He had to remain calm and cool at all times, no matter how much he was falling apart on the inside.

"Draco, you're forgetting I can read you like a book."

"I'm just . . . I . . . This is all I've got, Pansy. This is the only way I can talk to him."

Pansy frowned. "You know that's not true."

"He hates me, so this is the only way I can talk to him without getting my head chopped off."

Draco took a bite of his bland porridge. He added some cinnamon to the bowl for flavor.

Pansy sighed. "Anyone with eyes can see that Potter hasn't hated you since he started stalking you back in sixth year."

"Yeah, before he sliced me to ribbons? I'm sure he was so in love with me then it was all he could do not to not fall to the ground and kiss my boots."

"Draco . . ."

"And let's not forget his constant insistence that I was evil. Loved that."

"He was only trying to-"

"Save the world from the big, bad Death Eater? Yeah, got that much."

No longer hungry, Draco pushed his bowl away slowly. Slowly because if he made a spectacle of it, Pansy would say something.

"He knew you needed help," said Pansy, drizzling syrup on her pancakes. "He just didn't know how to help you; no one did."

"Can we please not do this right now?" Draco asked. Then he realized he'd left Potter hanging.

You're certainly cheeky this morning.

"We never talk about this, and I feel like it's something that needs to be addressed," said Pansy as she cut into her pancakes. "I tried so much to help you in sixth year, and you wouldn't let me in. You just shut everybody out, and starved yourself. I understand why, and I'm not faulting you for it, but you have to know that it scared me. It scared all of us. And you can't blame Potter for noticing something was wrong and wanting to help, because something was wrong-"

"He certainly wasn't helping when he diced me into a million pieces!" exclaimed Draco frustratedly. "He hated me so much he wanted to kill me."

"Maybe it was an accident," said Pansy. "He couldn't have cast that strong a spell on purpose."

"You weren't there, in that bathroom," growled Draco. "You didn't see the look of utter contempt on his face, the venom oozing out of his eyes. He wanted to kill me."

Any chance you'll tell me who you are today?

Not a one.

Worth a shot.

And Draco's stomach swam with nausea because no matter how hard he tried to convince people he was worthy of forgiveness, he was always going to be the nasty, evil Death Eater to them. The one who tortured, maimed and fought against the Golden Boy.

There wasn't a spot for him in this new society. Certainly not in Potter's life. Besides, didn't he have a girlfriend? He decided to ask him.

Question. Are you still with that redhead girl?

He couldn't exactly go calling her the Weaslette, now could he, not if he wanted to keep his identity a secret.

Why, are you interested in taking her place?

Draco gasped.

"What, what is it? What did he message you?"

With a tap of his finger, the message faded. He knew only he could see the letters, anyway, but he felt better once the dangerous words were no longer on his skin.

"N-Nothing, just . . . I asked him how his morning was going."

"You are such a filthy liar!" exclaimed Pansy, pointing an accusing finger at him. "What did you really ask him?"

Draco sighed. "Fine. If he's still with the Weaslette."

"And he said . . .?"

"He asked if I'm interested in taking her place."

"Oh, I am so enjoying this."

"Shut up."

Is a man not allowed to be curious?

So you are a man!

Shit.

There's your one and only hint. Hope you're happy.

Not in the slightest.

Draco frowned. Did Potter genuinely not want to message him anymore? Because this wasn't a game to Draco; it actually meant something to him, and he only wanted to do it if it meant something to Potter, too.

What was he saying? Of course it didn't mean anything to Potter. He literally barricaded his messages because he was sick of people doing exactly what Draco was doing.

He had to stop.

Maybe I should just stop. I'm sorry to bother you, it won't happen again.

Hey wait a minute, hold on! I never said I wanted you to stop. This is just . . . New to me, alright?

So to be clear, you're alright with messaging me? I'm not a thorn in your arse?

Oh, you're definitely a thorn in my arse.

Draco giggled.

"What?" Pansy pressed.

"Nothing."

You didn't answer my question about the redhead.

Maybe because my love life is none of your business.

A fair point.

Why are you interested?

I'm not interested in you, silly, I just . . . Was just trying to make conversation.

Oh. Well, in that case, we broke up.

Oh. I'm sorry.

Don't be. It was mutual. We're still great friends.

That's good, I'm glad.

Thanks.

"Morning," greeted Greg as he slid into the space next to Draco. He immediately began helping himself to the breakfast laid out on the table, making himself a hefty plate.

"Draco's messaging Potter," Pansy sing-songed.

"Hey!" Draco hissed.

Greg's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Excellent." He clapped Draco on the back. The force of it almost sent him flying into his porridge.

"Would you quit it? It's not that big a deal."

"It is so a big deal," gushed Pansy.

"Way to get 'em, mate," said Greg. "What have you guys been talking about?"

"Nothing important," said Draco passively.

Pansy tssked. "Nothing important. He only asked him the most daunting question in the world, whether he was still with that Weasley girl."

"And? Is he?"

"They broke up," said Draco.

Pansy whooped, while Greg clapped his back again. "Not saying you have a chance," he said, "but at least he's single."

His wrist tingled again.

I'm really glad you're not interested in me. Every single stranger that messaged me either wanted to be me or they wanted to fuck me. I couldn't stand it. I'm a real person, you know, not just some idol.

What the hell was Draco supposed to say to that?

You did a great thing, saving us and all that, but it doesn't mean that you deserve to be dehumanized. You're more than a hero, you're more than the boy who lived. That isn't who you are. You're Harry. You're just a person, and you deserve basic human compassion, not fangirls and fawning.

You are so right. Thank you for telling me that. I think I know that deep down, but it's easy to forget when people are always in my face about saving the world and what not.

Any time.

And oh, did Draco's heart ache.

"What are you guys talking about now?" Greg asked.

"Nothing, it's private," Draco answered.

"It must be something really tender and sweet," said Pansy with an evil glint in your eye. "I'll get it out of you one way or another, Draco."

"Fat chance," said Draco. "My lips are sealed on this one. He just confessed something sort of personal to me, and I'm not going to exploit that for your benefit."

"Potter, confessing something personal to a virtual stranger?" Pansy asked. "I thought he had more smarts than that."

"I don't see it that way," said Draco. "This avenue of communication is anonymous. It's almost like a safe place for him to be himself in a world that has already told him how it wants him to be."

"That's very perceptive," said Pansy. "I actually never thought about it like that before."

"You really like him, don't you?" said Greg.

Draco sighed. "Can we please not talk about my unfortunate love life? How he'll never like me back? It's embarrassing." And, additionally, his heart ached as though it had just run a mile.

"I'm not laughing at you," said Greg. "I'm just concerned. I think you should try to find a healthy way to move on, and now that I've thought about it, messaging Potter might not be it."

"I think you should mind your own business."

It's so strange, talking to you . . . I feel like I know you, somehow.

You do know me.

Obviously. But you know what I mean. I feel like I'm getting to know you.

You already do know me.

You know what? Nevermind. You're not understanding.

I understand plenty. The fact of the matter is, you know me.

You don't know how confusing this is for me, is this all just a big game to you? Are you doing this for sport, to get a rise out of me? Because it isn't funny.

Draco felt his heart constrict, because what?

"What is it, love? What did he say?" Pansy asked, though her voice sounded as though it were far away.

I'm not doing this for sport, I genuinely want to get to know you. And trust me when I say this is the only way how.

Do you go to Hogwarts?

Yes, alright, if it makes you feel any better, yes I go to Hogwarts. I'm in the same boat as you.

Same boat? Same boat? You do not get to sit there and tell me we're in the same boat. Our boats are nowhere near each other, alright?

"Draco," said Greg. "What is he saying?"

"H-He thinks I'm playing a joke on him," said Draco, willing his voice to sound stronger than he felt. "That this is all for a laugh."

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to undermine anything you did in the war. I'm so sorry.

If this is all just some big joke to you, then don't bother messaging me, alright?

It's not, I promise it's not, I didn't mean for it to come across that way, I'm sorry.

No reply.

Harry?

Nothing.

Deflating, Draco rested his arms on the table and frowned into his lap. Pansy snapped her fingers in front of his face.

"Earth to Draco. Honey? You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"What happened?" Greg asked.

"He . . . Doesn't want to message me anymore. He thinks I'm playing a game with him."

"It's probably for the best," said Greg. "You don't need to tangle yourself up with Potter. Would be messy for everyone involved."

And Draco was hurt hearing this, because it implied that he couldn't become romantically involved with someone without somehow making the situation messy.

Messy.

Was that really who he was? It was who his friends seemed to think he was. They had such little faith in him it really, really hurt. But he would not let it show. So he plastered on a soft smile and nodded benignly.

"You're right," he said.

Greg's eyes widened. "Just like that? You're not putting up a fight?"

"Why bother? I'd just make the situation messy, like you said, so there's no need for me to go and ruin Potter's life."

"I didn't mean it like that, oh god-"

"No, it's fine. Really, Greg. It's fine." Draco was aware his voice sounded slightly shriller than it should have been, but he couldn't find it in himself to fix it.

"Draco, darling, what he means is that Potter would hurt you," interjected Pansy. "He's just looking out for you, we aren't trying to imply anything about you."

"No, you said for everyone involved," Draco said to Greg.

"I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry," said Greg.

"And I said it's fine."

"Maybe I'd believe you if you at least tried to sound like you meant it."

"Maybe I'd try to sound like I meant it if your opinion at all mattered to me."

Draco knew he was being childish, but Potter had just crushed all his hopes and dreams into smithereens, and any chance at him having his soulmate had swiftly evaporated. Draco had just found out he was going to be alone forever. He was allowed to be a little fussy and dramatic.

"Draco . . . I think it's for the best if you guys don't message," said Pansy. "It won't end well, especially for you considering your feelings. You'd just get hurt, and I've already seen you get hurt enough during the war. You don't need any more of that. Doesn't it feel good to finally be free?"

"I thought you were the one rooting for me and Potter."

"I was rooting for you to swallow your pride and talk to him in person. Not this messaging shit."

"I can't talk to him in person, he'll hex my balls off. And I quite like my balls."

"I'm eating here."

"Well, the bottom line is we won't work out, either in person or on messaging, so I've accepted that I'll be alone forever."

"Don't be so dramatic," said Pansy. "You're allowed to see other people. You don't have to end up with your soulmate."

But the thing was, Draco didn't want anybody else. He wanted Potter's dark, unruly curls and his stunning, green eyes and that smile he reserved only for the people he truly cared about. Draco wanted to be one of those people, even though he knew he never would be.

"I'm gonna go," he said. "I'll see you later."

"But you barely touched your porridge," said Pansy.

"Maybe you should eat something real before you go. Lunch isn't until 12, you'll starve," said Greg.

"I'm not hungry."

Draco pushed his bowl further away from himself, gripped the table, stood up, and began walking out of the Great Hall.

Everything was fine, he figured, as he was walking to class. He was digesting this new reality of Potter hating him even through messages, because only he would manage to get Potter to hate him anonymously, and he was doing fine. He was fine. He could cope with being without his soulmate forever, couldn't he?

When he reached Potions class, he scanned the room for a spot. He sat down at an empty desk in the far corner.

"Malfoy, you're early today," greeted Slughorn.

Draco smiled and nodded politely.

He waited as people slowly began to fill the room. One by one the seats were taken. Of course, nobody wanted to sit by him, and none of his friends had gotten into N.E.W.T.S potions, so he was on his own.

Eventually, the Golden Trio entered the room, scanning the perimeter for a place to sit. There was only one desk remaining, aside from the spot next to Draco. He realized that one member of the Golden Trio was going to have to sit with him.

"I have to partner with Ron, he'll fail otherwise," Draco heard Granger say, and his chest filled with dread because no.

"I'm not sitting with . . . With him," Potter snarled.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Granger. She and Weasley walked, hand in hand, to the other table. Potter turned toward him and glared at him as he walked over.

Draco's heart was fluttering inside his ribcage as fast as a hummingbird's wings, and he was doing everything he could to quell his trembling. It's just Potter, he reminded himself. It's just Potter.

"Here's a little friendly reminder, Malfoy," Potter all but spat as he sat down. "Just because we are partners, does not mean we are friends. You do not get to ask me personal questions, and in turn I don't have to stare at your despicable, pointy face for any longer than I absolutely have to. Got it?"

Draco swallowed down the hurt he felt at the words. Potter thought he was ugly. Potter genuinely, truly thought he was ugly.

"Fine," said Draco. "That means I don't have to look at your pathetic excuse of a head of hair for any longer than I absolutely have to."

"Insulting my hair? Really, Malfoy? You really have lost your edge."

Draco felt like a wilting flower.

Class passed without incident. Slughorn rambled for a while, then Draco offered to go and get the ingredients for their potion. While he was chopping up ingredients, Potter buried his nose in the textbook and pretended to read the instructions. Draco knew he wasn't actually reading because his eyes did not move along with the page.

By the end of class, Draco and Potter had successfully brewed their potion. Draco had done 99% of the work, of course, and was about to get zero credit.

"Harry, my boy!" Slughorn slapped him on the back. "You did excellent."

Potter looked at Draco, smirked, then returned his gaze to Slughorn. "Thank you, Mr. Slughorn."

"Malfoy, you sure are lucky to have this chap as your partner," said Slughorn. "Harry, you did great work today. Fifteen points to Gryffindor."

Draco sighed as Slughorn walked away.

"You hear that?" Potter asked as he packed his things. "Fifteen points to Gryffindor. Did I hear any for Slytherin? Oh wait . . . That's right . . . No one likes you guys anymore."

Draco bit down a growl as he all but shoved his textbook into his messenger bag. Potter was only doing this to get a rise out of him, and so far he was succeeding.

"Fun fact," continued Potter, wearing that same hideous smirk that made Draco want to both punch him and kiss him. "I never even did."

"No shit," said Draco. "You go around acting like Slytherins are all evil, you prejudiced, good-for-nothing know-it-all."

"Hmm, let's see, Voldemort was a Slytherin, Parkinson, who tried to turn me in, was a Slytherin, and who else? Who am I missing? Hmm . . . Oh, yes. That's right. You. You are a Slytherin."

Draco was deeply hurt by his words, because they meant that Potter found him evil, but this was nothing new. Potter had always thought he was evil. His stalking him in sixth year had all but proven that. But this . . . this felt fresher, rawer. Because he was putting it into explicit words.

"Don't you drag Pansy into this," he growled, barring a fist as he slung his messenger bag over his head. "She was scared. She didn't know what to do."

"You think I wasn't scared? You think I knew what to do?"

"I never said-"

"You said plenty." Potter fixed him with a stony, cold expression that made Draco want to disappear. Before he could reply, he saw Granger and Weasley approaching their table.

"Ready, Harry?" asked Weasley.

Potter nodded. "Let's get out of here."

Draco followed closely behind them, and the second he exited the classroom he felt two pairs of arms grab him and shove him roughly to the ground.

Books and papers went flying everywhere, and a container of ink spilled all over his Transfigurations essay he'd spent hours writing.

Great.

Laughter followed in the wake of his crash, harsh, cruel laughter that painted his cheeks a flaming hot red.

"Watch where you're going, Death Eater," one of the boys snarled.

"Slimy piece of shit, you deserve to be in Azkaban with your father," said another. Draco nodded in agreement. He absolutely did.

As he looked up at his attackers, he noticed that Potter and the others had stopped walking to watch the scene unfold. A group of people had actually stopped and formed a semi-circle around the action.

Draco, near tears, crumpled up his ruined essay and shoved it roughly in his bag along with all the other papers and books that had flown out.

"You should've died in that war, your whole family deserved to die," snarled the third one.

"You don't deserve to be back here," said the first one, walking closer to him. Draco stood up as quickly as he could, but it wasn't quick enough, for the first guy rushed forward and punched the living daylights out of him.

Splintering pain erupted across his entire face, and blood began pouring out of his nose. Draco's hands flew to his face, covering the injury as though that would do any good against three other boys who all wanted to bash his face in.

"Hey, stop it!" exclaimed a voice.

Wait a minute.

That was Potter.

Potter.

Draco peeked out from behind the curtain his hands had formed over his face to see Potter standing in front of the guy that had punched him, eyebrows furrowed and arms held up in rage.

"Don't you ever fucking hit him again," he said lowly, dangerously low, and what?

"Are you mad?" asked the boy. "Have you lost the plot? Harry Potter, the saviour, defending the Death Eater?"

"I'd do it for anyone," said Potter, and Draco's heart sank again, because of course he would. Draco was just another person to Potter, a person Potter happened to hate.

"You've lost it," the boy decided. "You're really standing here telling me that you don't want to also punch his guts in?"

"Believe me, sometimes I do," said Potter. "But the difference is I don't act on it, because that's bullying. That's what he does. You don't want to sink to his level, now do you?"

Draco felt as though someone had taken his heart and squished it. Potter didn't care about him. He only saw him as an evil bully.

"Whatever," scoffed the boy. Then they walked away. Potter walked toward Draco. Draco placed a hand over his chest to see if his heart was beating as fast as he thought it was.

It was.

"Potter, you didn't have to-"

"Don't thank me," Potter said coldly, with Weasley and Granger hovering as bodyguards in the background in case Draco decided to do something evil on their watch.

"Just . . . Forget about it. Okay?"

"O-Okay." Draco watched, more confused than ever, as Potter and his friends slowly walked away.