As the days progressed, Draco and Potter continued to message. Their messages actually stopped centering around him for a change and drifted to other, safer subjects such as Quidditch and McGonagall's whole inter-house unity bullshit. Draco found that Potter was actually quite well-versed when it came to Quidditch for having grown up with Muggles, and he supposed his best mate Weasley was somewhat responsible for that. It was . . . Nice.

In real life, Draco and Potter continued to be cordial. Potter would smile at him when Draco said something funny, and Draco would refrain from laughing when Potter stumbled over his words. Unsurprisingly, it happened a lot.

It was fine, it was really all fine. Until one day.

Draco was stirring their potion, when Potter decided to talk about something serious. Something real.

"You know, I really don't think it's fair the way people treat you around here."

Draco didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or cry.

"To be fair, they aren't exactly wrong about me," Draco replied, avoiding eye contact, and he really hadn't meant for it to come out as self-deprecating as it had.

"I was there, you know. On the night Dumbledore died. I was there."

Draco's grip on the ladle tightened.

Of course Harry Potter was there. He was everywhere.

"Why am I not even surprised," he said.

"I saw you," said Potter.

"Of course you did."

"I saw how terrified you were."

"We were having such a nice conversation, Potter . . ."

"We weren't talking."

Draco fixed him with a pointed look.

Potter sighed.

"This truce isn't going to work out if we can't talk," he said.

"What does it look like we're doing right now?"

"No. I mean actually talk. I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you, and you're batting me away."

"Sorry I don't want to entertain the notion that you give a fuck."

Potter looked hurt, and Draco only felt a little bad.

"Malfoy, what I'm trying to say is I don't think it's right that you're being bullied when you clearly regret what you've done."

Draco didn't even know where to begin with Potter's statement, because none of it was fair. None. He was torn between indignation at being forced into torturing Muggleborns, and guilt at having done it without putting up a fight.

"Don't act like you know me just because we've decided to be civil now."

"But I do know you."

"No, you don't."

"We aren't gonna get anywhere talking like this."

"Maybe I don't want to get anywhere, ever think of that?"

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

"Fuck you, Potter."

Potter didn't talk to him again the rest of class.

Potter didn't bother him again until later that evening, when he was studying in the common room with Pansy and Blaise when he felt his wrist tingle.

I need help.

With?

Malfoy.

Because Draco was an arse, he said,

Not this again.

I know, I know. You must be so sick of it by now. You must feel like a Draco Malfoy diary. But I don't know what to do, and it's killing me.

What do you mean you don't know what to do? You made a truce with him, got him off your back. Can't you leave well enough alone?

He's struggling. I can see it all over him, in the way he hunches over, in the way his eyes are losing their spark. It feels like he's dying, and there's nothing I can do to help him cause he's so stubborn.

Draco Malfoy wanting help from the person he feels utterly humiliated by? Can't imagine why not.

Draco could almost see Potter's frown.

What is that supposed to mean? You think he feels humiliated by me?

Why wouldn't he?

Why would he? I've done nothing but try to help him, and all he's done is act like an ungrateful brat.

Draco couldn't help himself. He went off.

Do you have any idea how hard it is for people like him to accept help from anybody, let alone someone they hated for the better part of their lives? Actually, scratch that, I don't think he hated you at all. I think he was jealous of you because you had everything he didn't. Friends, people that loved you and were loyal to you, and who most of all respected you for who you were.

Where the hell is all of this coming from? Are you his friend or something?

Shit. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

No. Just my prediction. I think it's rather obvious, honestly, that he envies you.

Why would he envy me?

You oaf, I just told you why.

You sound an awful lot like him sometimes, when you talk. It's strange.

Draco's heart flipped. He couldn't risk Potter finding out who he was. It was too dangerous. He'd have to sever ties completely before things got out of hand. But before he had the chance to, Potter beat him to the punch with something much worse.

I want to meet you. In person.

You want to meet me. Are you daft?

I want to know once and for all if this is some big, elaborate prank or if you actually care. If you care, you'll agree to meet me.

You can't just manipulate me like that, that's not how this works.

I've had about enough of your secrecy. You've been hiding behind a wrist for too long. It isn't fair you know who I am but I don't know who you are, and for all I know I could be confessing my secrets to someone dangerous.

But I already told you that you can't find out who I am.

I won't message you anymore unless we meet.

Draco's heart stopped.

What?

You heard me.

That's how badly you want to meet.

Yes.

He was fucked. He was completely and utterly fucked.

Alright. Tonight, 11 pm, on the Astronomy tower.

Okay.

Draco put his head in his hands, ignoring Pansy's scolding that he was wasting his time messaging Potter. This messaging was all he had, the only link between him and the Boy Who Lived, and it was about to be severed. Permanently.

Harry wrapped his Invisibility cloak tighter around his body as he ascended up the stairs leading to the Astronomy tower. A disarming combination of excitement and nervousness flooded through his veins, and he wondered why his heart was beating so fast if the person he was meeting was male.

This person managed to make him feel a certain way, that much was certain, and Harry couldn't deny that he had come to care for this person's wellbeing.

He finally reached the top of the tower, and stepped outside, removing his Invisibility cloak.

"Hello?" he asked, rather stupidly, for he saw no one, and with a quick Tempus he saw that it was just past 11 o'clock.

He decided to wait a few minutes. Maybe this mystery person was running behind. Or maybe, he was nervous and having second thoughts. Harry could understand that. But surely the boy would message him if he wasn't going to come?

Five minutes passed. No sign of him. Harry was beginning to grow antsy.

Ten minutes. Antsy morphed into angry.

Finally, after fifteen minutes of dead silence aside from the chirping of the crickets leftover from the swell of summer, Harry yanked his cloak over his body, more disappointed and hurt than anything else, and departed.

Draco had a panic attack on his way up to the Astronomy tower.

He'd had to stop and slump against the wall as he battled for air, and the only thing that was able to bring him back to reality was the thought of Potter rescuing him from the Fiendfyre.

As his breath slowly returned to him, he heaved against the wall breathlessly and realized that he was nowhere near ready to reveal his identity to the Saviour. He began heading back to his room.

After casting a Tempus and seeing how it was nearly 30 minutes past eleven by the time he was able to fully calm himself down, his shoulders sagged and he double tapped his wrist to open the communication channel between him and Potter.

I'm sorry.

But before he could even begin to anticipate a response, he heard a pair of footsteps heading right for him.

Shit.

The teachers used any excuse they could to punish him; breaking curfew would land him in detention for weeks.

"Malfoy?"

Draco knew that voice.

Suddenly, a body appeared in front of him. Potter.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, backing up as his heart began palpitating. "H-How did you do that?"

"Relax. I've an invisibility cloak."

And really, why wouldn't Potter have an invisibility cloak? Draco should have expected this sort of thing by now. He sighed. "Of course you do."

"What are you doing out here?" Potter asked, and Draco couldn't very well tell him, now could he?

"I-I couldn't sleep, so I decided to go on a walk."

"You couldn't sleep. You were asleep when I left our room."

Fuck. "I . . . Woke back up."

Potter peered closer at him, though he was trying to see through him. "Okay . . ."

"And couldn't fall back asleep," Draco finished. It was a perfectly sensible thing to say, thank you very much.

"Okay. So you decided to coincidentally take the exact same route I did?"

"Well, what were you doing out here?" Draco asked, none too kindly.

"I asked you first."

"I always come to the Astronomy tower when I can't sleep."

"Why?" Potter asked. "Wouldn't it remind you of . . . You know . . ."

"Yes, but seeing the tower empty and void of all that violence brings me peace and comfort," answered Draco honestly, and he hadn't admitted that to anybody else aloud before.

Potter's eyes widened. "I never thought about it like that. That actually makes sense."

"So can you bugger off now and let me be on my way?"

Potter sighed, face relaxing. "Whatever, Malfoy. I'll see you."

And he swept away, fading into the night the way a fox slinks into the woods.

Draco sighed in relief, but his chest quickly tightened when he saw the message on his wrist.

Coward.

Everything continued to be fine after that. Draco and Potter were civil, and no more arguments bursted between them in Potions. The only thing missing, however, was the messaging. Ever since the Astronomy tower debacle, Draco hadn't heard from Potter once, not that he expected to after the way he'd stood him up. But it still hurt, each unanswered message more than the last.

I'm really sorry.

I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but could you please at least hear me out?

I'm so sorry. You have a right to be angry. But please don't ice me out.

You have a right to ice me out. I'm so sorry.

Harry?

After humiliating himself more than enough for one lifetime, Draco finally stopped. His appetite waned further and further until it was basically nonexistent, and he had to force himself to shovel down a few bites at each meal before pushing his plate away and ignoring Pansy's forlorn expression. He figured if he ate just enough at each meal the others wouldn't say anything, and he was right. They all had their own shit going on, and they didn't need Draco's melodrama. Which is why one Sunday afternoon when Draco stood up and immediately sat back down from dizziness, he was surprised when Pansy said something.

"This has gotten out of hand, Draco."

"What are you talking about?" His voice sounded faint, far away. He could have passed out right there in the Hall.

Pansy gestured wildly with her hands. "This. All of it. You aren't taking care of yourself, this isn't healthy-"

"Who are you, my mum?" Draco knew as soon as the words were out he'd gone too far. Pansy's dark eyes widened, and she crossed her arms.

"Fine, have it your way. I'll turn a blind eye and not care if it bothers you so much."

"Pansy-"

"No, I'm just a mum to you, not your best friend who happens to be worried about you-"

"I didn't mean it, I'm sorry-"

"You always don't mean it, Draco. It has to stop. I've gotta go. I'll see you later."

Draco realized, dejected, that she was right. As always.

Without Pansy to keep him in check, Draco spiraled further out of control. He began skipping meals altogether, and he knew none of the boys had the balls to say anything to him about it. Maybe Pansy had told them not to bother. He didn't know, and he didn't care.

Everything continued to be fine until one day in Potions, Potter called him out.

"Malfoy, are you alright?"

Draco nearly chopped his finger off. He set down the knife with shaking fingers, fiddling with the half-way cut ingredients. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked absently.

"You look sick, is all."

Draco supposed he might have actually looked rather ill, but who did Potter think he was to comment on it? Draco asked him as much.

Potter put his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, Christ, Malfoy, I was just trying to- You know what, nevermind."

So Draco did.

And everything still continued to be perfectly and utterly fine, all up until Greg cornered him on his way out of the common room.

"You need to make up with Pansy."

"Pansy needs to make up with me."

"Can you not be so self-centered for one fucking second?"

That one stung. But Draco hadn't practiced masking his feelings all his life for nothing. "Where is she?" he asked.

"Library. I dunno what the hell happened with you and Potter, but you're scaring her. Hell, you're scaring all of us. We're here for you, you know that, right?"

Draco nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I know."

"And what you're doing, it's . . . It isn't good, Draco."

"I can't-"

"If that's how you really feel, then we need to get you help."

Draco began shaking his head back and forth, because no, if this somehow got back to his mother, it would crush her.

"No," he said weakly, "no."

Greg's face softened. "Draco-"

"No."

"Then can you at least-"

"I'll talk to Pansy. I'll apologize. You said the library, right?" With lack of food, his memory was faulty these days.

Greg nodded mutely. He looked like he was going to speak, but Draco didn't give him the chance before hurrying away.

On his way to the library, he realized something. Something huge. Pansy wouldn't want to hear from him if he'd made no progress with Potter. She'd find him the same pathetic loser she always had, and Draco was done being a pathetic loser. It was time for him to be brave.

So he spun around and began heading back toward the eighth year common room. He had a confession to make.

Once he reached the common room, he muttered the password and slipped inside. He scanned the room for Potter. No luck. Hopefully he'd be in the room. So Draco made a beeline for the stairs, but not before he was stopped by Greg.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, none too gently. "I thought you had some business to take care of with Pansy."

"I have some matters to attend to here first," said Draco, stepping aside a stunned Greg and all but leaping up the stairs, high on adrenaline. He was really going to do this.

He reached his and Potter's room, and slowly opened the door. Potter sat perched on his bed, reading a book. Draco swallowed thickly.

Upon his entrance, Potter looked up. "Malfoy?"

"Potter," Draco said, immediately wincing at how timid he sounded. He cleared his throat. "There's something I have to tell you."

Potter stood up, gently set his book down, and walked over to him.

"What is it?"

Draco drew in a deep breath, and steeled himself for the imminent rejection he knew he was going to get. But Potter deserved to know, even if they could never be together, and it was finally time he found out. He'd already been through enough pain of not having a soulmate and thinking something was wrong with him. Draco didn't want him to suffer anymore. At least with finding out it was Draco, Potter could move on healthily.

"I-It's me," he said.

Potter's brows furrowed in concern. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You're shaking like a leaf."

Draco exhaled, pursing his lips.

"What do you mean, 'it's me'?" Potter asked, stepping closer to him. "What are you talking about?"

Draco looked him square in his bright green eyes. That shined so bright for the people he loved, and would never shine for him.

"It's me, Potter. I'm your soulmate."