That night at dinner, Draco tried his best to eat. As he shoveled in mouthfuls of chicken, he noticed Pansy and Blaise were engaged in what appeared to be quite a lively conversation, laughing and cursing here and there, paying no mind to Draco's crisis. Not like he'd advertised it.

Surprisingly, it was Greg who noticed something was off.

"Alright there, Draco?"

"Mhm," he hummed, swallowing around his bite and gulping down water.

"Okay . . ." Greg seemed unsure, but he let the matter drop, probably because joining Pansy and Blaise's chortles was a lot more enjoyable than checking up on Draco. So Draco watched the three, no four, including Theo, of them roar with laughter and smile brightly. It wasn't until Pansy was literally pulling him into the conversation that he felt forced to speak. (Really, he would have been perfectly content watching this entire thing on the outside).

"Draco, you look like someone shut a light off in you," she said, tugging on his arm restlessly. "Why?"

He startled, not only from his surprise of hearing from her while she seemed to be enjoying herself but also from the seriousness of her tone. Pansy almost never got serious with him.

"I may as well tell you before Potter starts a rumor about it and ruins my reputation."

The irony did not go unnoticed by Pansy. "Darling, if you wanted to ruin your reputation-"

"I know."

"So what is it?"

Now Blaise, Greg and Theo were all listening closely- they may as well have shone a spotlight on him. Draco didn't like it at all. He was about to put his private and intimate life on display for all his friends to see- would they treat it with respect? He knew that the fact that he even had to ask himself this question was a red flag, but what could he do? They'd been good to him for all these years- they were as good as it was going to get.

Draco felt his hands begin to shake, so he placed them in his lap. He saw Pansy's eyes follow his movements, but if she noticed she chose not to say anything.

"Potter and I got physical earlier today."

"You had a fight?" Blaise immediately asked.

If possible, Draco grew more mortified at the prospect of having to explain himself.

"Not . . . that kind of physical."

"Oh, really?" Blaise asked absentmindedly. Then realization dawned on his face. "Oh."

Theo smirked. "Our little Draco's no longer a virgin."

Draco felt himself flush in humiliation. "I still technically am."

"You didn't go all the way?" Theo sounded disappointed. "So you missed the best part?"

"He didn't know what he wanted," Draco said suddenly, unsure where the words were coming from, but all he knew was that now they were on the tip of his tongue, begging to be spoken. He needed them to understand.

"I think he . . . I think he used me to figure out his own sexuality. Now he can go off and have sex with all the blokes he want cause he's Harry Potter, while I'm supposed to just stew and act unaffected by what we did."

"What did you do?" Pansy asked.

"He, erm, touched me. Down there."

"Merlin," said Theo, "just say it. A handjob. He gave you a handjob."

Draco blushed. "Yeah."

"Did you do anything to him?" Greg asked.

"I was going to," Draco insisted, unsure why he felt like he had to justify, "but then he-"

"Wait, so you didn't return the favor?" Theo asked.

"No." Draco's voice was very small.

Theo laughed heartily. "I always knew you'd be a pillow princess."

"I tried," Draco said heatedly, unsure what 'pillow princess' meant but judging by the looks of his friends' faces it seemed like nothing he should be proud of, "but he stopped me, saying that sex doesn't have to be transactional. Then he confused me by letting me into his lap when he kissed, then he started waxing poetic about me. How I was some kind of bird, I dunno, it was really weird. And then I stopped him because, well, he wanted to go further and I didn't want to let myself get taken advantage of like that."

"So Potter wanted to just . . ."

"Yeah."

"But you-"

"No. Yeah."

"I understand wanting to wait," said Pansy. "Especially considering the way you were raised."

Draco sighed. Leave it to his upbringing to control every aspect of his life, including sex.

"I don't think Potter's a virgin," he said. "It didn't feel right, him having that leverage over me. I felt powerless."

"You're internalizing some of that," said Blaise. "It's okay to not be as experienced as your partner- should your partner be okay with guiding you along."

"I'm sure he doesn't want to be my coach," Draco said dismissively.

Blaise smirked at him. "I'm sure there's a few things you could teach him as well."

"I'm clueless," Draco said miserably. "I don't know anything."

"I'm sure we can find a book or something," said Blaise. "This stuff is important, if you're interested in exploring it."

"I am," said Draco, "but I'm not sure if Potter's the appropriate candidate. I need someone who will respect me, who will appreciate my body and me. Who won't run off the second they start doubting themselves. Preferably, they won't be doubting themselves at all, actually."

Blaise grinned. "Are you finally giving us permission to help you get laid?"

"Well, not exactly," said Draco. "I don't want to just hook up with someone for no reason."

"You want the emotions attached," said Pansy in realization. "You are such a girl, Draco."

Draco blushed something fierce, but pushed through. "Since when did girls get the only rights to having a genuine human connection?"

"She's right," said Theo. "You may be the only bloke I know who's saving himself for the right person."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Greg added, probably seeing the distressed look on Draco's face.

"Could've fooled me," he muttered.

"C'mon, Draco, give us a break. We're only teasing," admonished Theo.

"I think it's great you want to wait," said Pansy. "Unlike some people over here, who can't keep it in." She nudged Theo.

"Shut up, I'm happy," Theo said contentedly. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"I'm not sure what to think about Potter now," said Draco. "I feel so . . . so dirty, and wrong, like he corrupted me-"

"Don't be so dramatic," chided Blaise. "You still have your innocence, and if you don't want to give it to Potter, don't. It sounds like he's wrong for you anyways. He's given you quite a headache this semester, doesn't seem to understand the importance of consistency in human relationships, and he isn't even that good-looking. Honestly, Draco, you could do a lot better."

But Draco didn't want anybody else. He wanted the man he loved.

But why did he love him? Was it truly love, or was it infatuation? He realized, with a pang in his chest, that he barely knew the man. That was all but proven when Potter revealed to him the secrets of his blood relatives. Draco had barely scraped the surface of Harry Potter. And he wanted to know more, he really did, but not if it was going to come at the cost of his innocence. He wouldn't allow it.

"I-I think I need to let him go," Draco said quietly, to his lap, to his shaking hands. Surely one of them had noticed it by now?

"Draco . . ." Pansy, who normally never displayed emotion, wore it all on her sleeve tonight. Her brows were pinched in, creases of concern were folding in her forehead, and her lips were pursed tightly.

"I have to, Pans," he said. "It doesn't matter that he's my soulmate. It won't work, not after what he did to me."

"Did you want it?" Theo asked. "Because people are in different headspaces when it comes to sex. Potter's probably in a really different headspace than you are, considering he used to date that Weasley girl. Potter probably assumed if you were enjoying yourself, that there were no other issues."

"He knows he was the first to touch me," Draco argued. "I told him. More accurately, he drew it out of me. But regardless, he knows and it didn't bother him."

"That's not okay," said Pansy, now sounding concerned, a little too close to his mother for his liking. "He can't just do that to you, especially knowing how you feel."

"Maybe I need to find someone to make him jealous," said Draco. "Then he'll see."

"That's going to backfire," Blaise said. "Never try to make another bloke jealous. We'll just lose all respect for you because you see yourself as cheap, and you'll end up with no one."

"That's not fair," said Draco. "I should be able to sleep with a bloke if I want to without being classified as cheap. I know I have certain values on sex and marriage, but I'm beginning to see that it isn't as rigid as I'd imagined."

"Of course it isn't fair; welcome to the dating world," Blaise laughed.

Draco sighed. "If I made Potter jealous, we'd still be starting things on the wrong foot. I'd aggravate him, actually."

"Yeah," agreed Blaise.

"But if I find someone who's more than a quality lay, if I find someone who wants to hold my hand . . ."

"Draco," said Pansy, "you can't look in the same pond for such different types of fish."

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Draco, not confused by her metaphor, understanding perfectly well actually but needing her to explain anyway because it just was too cruel to comprehend.

"I mean that if you want a relationship, it isn't going to start with sex. The blokes who want to fuck you are not looking for anything like that, so if you want a relationship you'll have to stay far away from those guys."

"You can't just start a relationship because you want to make Potter jealous," said Theo. "That's not how these things work. If Potter is the one you want a relationship with, the only way out is through. You need to talk to him and tell him how you feel."

"And further humiliate myself? No thanks."

"He could feel humiliated, too, in his own way," said Greg.

"Really? How?"

"Well, maybe he wanted the sex to mean something more, and didn't know how to go about it. Maybe he feels as though you left him in the dust."

"Like I left him in the dust?" Draco wanted to laugh at such a ridiculous notion, but he felt his throat begin to close up. "He's the one who can't even be bothered to figure out what he wants. Not even for me, forget about me, but for himself. It's like he doesn't think he's worth it."

"Everyone's path is different," Greg reminded him. "Just because you knew when you were fifteen doesn't mean everybody does."

"Actually, I was fourteen, and crushing rather hard on Viktor Krum-"

"Lord, don't remind me," Pansy groaned.

"He might feel misunderstood. Maybe you should just try talking to him," said Greg.

Draco didn't know how to tell his friend how wrong he was. Potter had known he was taking advantage, and liked it. He may have said he didn't want to take advantage, but they were both present while he was touching Draco, and he had enjoyed the idea that Draco was his to mark, had been completely innocent before him.

"Yeah," Draco settled on after a moment. "I'll try."

That night in the room, Draco felt a thick tension. Potter wasn't talking to him, had hardly acknowledged him when he'd come in.

He had smiled tensely at Draco, uttered a quick "hey" and returned to his task. It left Draco stunned, and more than a little hurt. When he'd told Potter he needed to figure some things out, he hadn't meant that he'd have to box Draco out entirely in the process.

But Draco wasn't going to be the one to fix this, he told himself. Potter had messed up. It was his responsibility to make things right.

But when ten minutes passed with no word, Draco snapped his book shut and stood up from his chair, flopping back on his bed and sighing heavily.

"Is something the matter?" Potter asked him from his own bed, setting his book down to look at Draco.

"I dunno, Potter. Is something the matter?" Draco asked rhetorically.

Potter sighed. "Malfoy . . ."

Draco ignored his mind's attempts to shut him down, the red flags popping up that this was wrong, this was all wrong, not how things were supposed to go. He didn't care. The words had been simmering inside him for too long, and if he didn't speak them now he thought he might explode.

"Why did you use me like that?" he asked, and god, his tone was so whiny and pathetic.

Potter's eyes widened. "Use you?"

"Yeah." Draco gestured with his hands, unsure why Potter was playing clueless. He felt his face begin to burn. "With . . . Earlier."

"Malfoy . . ." Potter slid up off his bed. "Can I . . . Can I come sit by you?"

"Depends," Draco answered. "Will you keep your hands to yourself?"

Potter looked deeply ashamed. He didn't answer as he approached Draco, sitting next to him with adequate space between them.

"I'm so lost," Potter said. "I don't want to be . . . Bisexual. People think that means confused. I don't want to be confused, I want to pick one and stick to it."

"You can't force yourself to like or dislike a certain gender, Potter," Draco said somewhat crossly. He had already tried telling Potter that there was nothing wrong with bisexuality, and he hadn't listened.

"I know," said Potter. "But with boys . . . Malfoy, I don't know if I like boys. I think it's just you."

Well . . . this was . . .

"Oh," said Draco, rather stupidly.

"But I'm just confusing you, aren't I? I haven't been the most reliable toward you, and I'm deeply sorry."

"That's not why you should be sorry, Potter," Draco snapped. Upon Potter's startled look, he realized he was incredibly tense and took a shaky breath to relax. "I mean . . . it is, but it isn't the only reason."

"Are you talking about earlier?" Potter asked.

Draco nodded, feeling his cheeks go pink in embarrassment.

"Malfoy, I thought you were . . . I thought you wanted it. If I had any idea, any at all, you have to understand, I would never-"

"I did want it," Draco said, to assure him, because seeing him in distress was physically painful, "but . . ." How did he go about saying that he wanted it to lead to something more? That he wanted to be held, stroked, taken care of? He couldn't beg for those kinds of forms of affection.

"But you want it to lead somewhere," Potter finished. "And earlier, I was . . ."

"Yeah."

Potter sighed. "That's why you pulled away after, isn't it?"

Draco nodded.

"Well, first off, I shouldn't have touched you at all, knowing the position we were in, the leverage I had over you. That wasn't fair, when I wasn't sure what I wanted. And I'm sorry, Malfoy."

Draco was sick of apologies, of fighting, of misunderstanding. He wanted himself and Potter to be on the same page, for once. So he decided to be brave and quit tip-toeing.

"The truth is, Potter, I do want a relationship. Preferably with you, but since you aren't sure what you want, I would never dream of pressuring you. And that being said, I have certain values about sex and intimacy, that were violated today."

"You were willing just as much as I was," Potter reminded him.

"I shouldn't have been," said Draco, ignoring his anger at Potter's refusal to take full responsibility. "It cannot happen again unless we're actually together."

Potter nodded. "That's fair. So . . . What now?"

"What do you mean, 'what now?' We proceed as we have been, as cautious allies."

"Cautious allies?" Potter laughed. "I think after everything, we're a little bit more than that."

Draco felt a bud of hope in his chest. He staved it off, though, in case Potter was bluffing.

"You think so?" he asked, unconsciously scooting closer to Potter on the bed.

Potter nodded. "I think after everything, we're more than two scared kids who made a mistake today."

Draco was a bit relieved that Potter found their sexual activities a mistake, because that's exactly what it was. A mistake.

"So you think it was a mistake?" Draco asked, testing the waters.

Potter side-eyed him. "Don't you?" he asked, face still staring ahead.

Draco swallowed tightly. It was hard to define how he felt about such an ethereal experience. Potter had made him feel good, so incredibly good, that secretly, he maybe, just maybe, wanted just a little bit more. But as things were, it was a mistake.

"I guess," he said passively. "It both did and didn't, if that makes sense."

Potter looked like that was exactly what he'd wanted to hear.

"I enjoyed touching you like that so very much," he said. "But I understand it can't happen again until you're ready."

"No," Draco corrected him, "until you're ready. I'm all yours, and I've told you this. But you, for whatever reason, seem stuck on this whole bisexual nonsense."

Potter sighed. "I just need to figure out myself a bit more, Malfoy. I could see myself getting used to the term bisexual, since it seems as though that's the only one that works for me. I dated Ginny, and I liked Cho; I can't just erase that."

"Of course not," said Draco.

"But the way I feel about you . . . It's different. It feels different."

Draco knew these were dangerous grounds. He treaded anyway. "How so?"

"I just want to see you happy again," Potter told him softly. "I miss that old smile. I miss your snarks, even your rudeness. I just want the old you back."

Draco laughed. "Why on earth would you want the old me? He was terrible."

Potter looked at him seriously. "At least he wasn't apathetic."

Draco felt a surge of frustration, mostly due to Potter's complete inability to read him in spite of how much time they'd spent together. He had never felt so thoroughly misunderstood. Was that really how he saw it? And how could he not, after everything he knew about Draco, draw the same conclusion that Draco wasn't "apathetic" at all, but rather struggling to express his feelings because every time he'd done so prior, he'd gotten hurt?

But then he remembered Potter was not a mind reader- he couldn't read minds, as much as that would make this easier.

"Malfoy? Are you alright?"

Draco shook his head. "Not really," he admitted.

"Could I maybe . . . I know we said no touching, and we're sticking to that, but could I . . . Could I hug you, maybe?"

A yes escaped his lips before he could even think about it, then Potter was closer to him, gathering him in his arms and gently pressing Draco's cheek into his chest. Draco inhaled deeply, smelling pine and cinnamon and something else uniquely Potter. He shuddered from their closeness, feeling himself begin to tremble, not knowing if Potter expected anything out of him from this hug, not wanting to shatter this incredibly fragile moment.

"Draco . . ." Potter murmured, sending another stab into Draco's heart with the use of his name that probably meant nothing. Draco was suddenly overcome by the overwhelming urge to just break down and apologize for everything he'd ever done. His thin frame began to shake, and Potter's arms only tightened around him, pulling him closer to his chest and rubbing circles on Draco's back.

"I'm sorry," Potter said quietly, pressing a kiss atop his head. "I'm so sorry."

They stayed there for a while, and to his dismay Draco felt himself begin to drift off. Potter was rocking them now, humming to himself and continuing to kiss Draco's head as though he thought nothing of it. Draco sighed and burrowed further into Potter's chest, feeling at odds with himself for becoming so comfortable with someone who had violated his principles so aggressively. But Potter seemed genuinely remorseful, and no one was perfect, least of all Draco.

"Draco," Potter said, stirring him out of his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"Let's just . . . would you like to lay down with me?"

Draco looked up at him, feeling himself tense up. He was a terrible cuddler. Always too rigid, were Pansy's words, too worked up to let himself relax.

"You don't have to," Potter quickly amended, misconstruing his inner conflict. "We can sit just like this for as long as you like. I was only-"

"No, we can," said Draco, not breaking eye contact with him. Green glinted back at grey.

"Okay."

They rearranged themselves so they both lay on either side of the twin, facing each other, toes touching. Draco wanted his arms around him again.

"Let's just talk tonight," said Potter gently. "I want to get to know you- the real you."

Draco found himself reaching for Potter, wanting to hold, to grab onto something, anything, that was a part of him.

Potter noticed him reaching and smiled, extending his hand for Draco to take. Wordlessly, Draco tentatively touched the limb and traced patterns on Potter's palm.

"I could say the same about you," Draco said. "I don't know anything about you, earlier today all but proved that. I made an arse out of myself assuming you had a lovely family. I'm sorry, Potter."

Potter smiled again, but this time it didn't reach his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"You still call me Potter, after everything. You're weird with names."

Draco didn't know how to approach this issue, since he had so thoroughly blocked it off in his own head. Potter was Potter, no room for argument. If Potter became Harry, then that meant he was becoming something important to Draco, and if he was becoming something important to Draco then Draco might get hurt. Potter was where he was safe. Potter was where Draco could have feelings for him without getting hurt.

"I just . . ." But Draco didn't know where he was going with that. All he knew that was all too suddenly, the room grew far too hot, the air far too thick, and his throat far too thin.

"Draco?"

"I'm sorry," Draco said breathlessly. "I just . . . I feel more comfortable calling you Potter. Harry feels like too . . . too much. I'm sorry."

To his shock, Potter laughed at him.

"Why are you laughing?" Draco asked, feeling incredibly self-conscious.

"It's just, you can be really funny without meaning to be," said Potter. "Too much? My name is too much for you to say?"

Now Draco looked like the bad guy again.

"I don't mean literally," he said, though he knew that didn't help much. "I mean after everything, it feels improper to call you by your first name after how horrible I was to you."

"That's in the past," Potter said, and he sounded so gentle and reassuring that Draco felt himself break, just a little. "I don't hold all that against you anymore. You apologized for it, remember?"

"And a fat lot of good it did me," Draco said scornfully.

Potter frowned. "I told you, I'd talk to Ron, and I mean it."

"You had the chance to talk to him today. Why didn't you?"

"You think I was going to just go crying to my friends about what happened and violate your privacy?"

Yes, actually, that's exactly what Draco had thought would occur. He told him as much.

"Well, I didn't want to embarrass you," said Potter sheepishly. "I also didn't know how to pose the situation to my friends without looking like an arse, because I was one."

"Well, I'm sorry but I told my friends everything," said Draco.

"I figured you would," said Potter. "And I don't mind- they already have less-than-ideal opinions of me."

Draco recalled earlier in the evening when he'd said he wanted to let Potter go.

"I considered letting you go completely, after the fact," he said.

Potter looked grim. "I wouldn't have blamed you."

"Why are you so fixated on the stigmas attached to bisexuality?" Draco asked. "It does you no good to internalize it."

Potter sighed. "I think it's an excuse."

"An excuse? For what? If you want to leave my company, the door is right there," Draco said somewhat tersely.

Potter shook his head, eyes going wide. He closed his hand around Draco's fingers, squeezing tightly. "No, Draco, that's not what I want. I meant as a reason not to take this seriously, because taking this seriously means . . ." He looked at war with himself.

"Means what?"

"It means I have to look at you and admit to myself that this is what I want."

Draco felt as though someone had hit him over the head with a sledgehammer. He snorted, though it was a choked, ugly sound. Potter immediately looked alarmed.

"Because wanting me is so bad," Draco growled. "I get it, Potter."

He made to move off the bed, but Potter was stronger. He grabbed both Draco's thin wrists and pulled.

"Fuck, that wasn't what I was- I wasn't trying to insult you." Potter sounded sad, angry and confused all at the same time.

"Then enlighten me," Draco said dryly, not taking too kindly to being held against his will. "What the fuck were you doing?"

"Please try to understand my side," Potter said quietly, as though that weren't the very thing Draco had been trying unsuccessfully to do all evening.

"For years and years and years, I hated you. Immensely. Powerfully. To an arguably unhealthy degree. I even obsessed over you. I stalked you for an entire year, convinced you were up to no good, but it wasn't enough that you were up to no good- I had to know exactly what you were doing, what was going on. And when I saw you crying in that bathroom, Malfoy, I just . . . Lost it. I had never seen you like that. So afraid, so broken down, so human. Then the war took you away and you never came back the same. For some reason it just struck me, how different you are. It stuck out to me from the moment I saw you on the train this year. I wanted to help you."

Draco's worst suspicions had been confirmed. "So I'm just charity."

Potter shook his head. "No," he said. "Just because I wanted to help you doesn't mean I feel sorry for you. But then I started talking to you, and you started making amends and fuck, I wasn't expecting that. For you to own up to everything like that."

"No?" Draco asked, with an edge.

"Draco, please try to understand," Potter pleaded. "It isn't that I don't want you. It's that I want you too much."

At this point Potter had long since let go of his wrists; his words were what kept Draco glued to the bed.

"But you don't want me the way I want you," Draco said quietly, avoiding eye contact. Then he felt a hand at his chin, gently coaxing him to look back up.

"I can figure out my labels later," Potter said. "Right now, you're the only thing I want."

"But what if you wake up tomorrow and feel differently?" Draco asked. "I don't- I can't-"

Potter silenced him with a quick kiss.

Draco pulled away, gasping for air. "That isn't fair," he croaked. "You can't just kiss me to shut me up."

"It worked, didn't it?"

"We still have way too much to talk about."

"I know," said Potter, "and we'll get there. For now, I just want to be with you. Is that alright?"

Draco wasn't sure if he could find a way out of this question. Because the truth was, he didn't want to kiss Potter unless he knew it was going somewhere. So, deciding to be brave, Draco cleared his throat and shook his head, and upon Potter's confused expression he spoke,

"I can't kiss you when I don't know where it's going."

"Oh, Draco, haven't you figured it out by now?" Potter was smiling at him, looking like a little ball of light, and Draco wondered what was making him so happy.

"What?" he asked.

"I want you. In every sense of the word."

"But you were so afraid about-"

"It's just a word. A label. I don't even have to embody it if I don't want to."

"Seems like a suspiciously fast change of heart," said Draco.

"I dunno," said Potter. "I'm just here looking at you, and realizing how much of a waste it is if I don't treat you right."

"How can I trust you?" Draco asked quietly. "After what happened today, how do I know you have my best interests at heart?"

"Draco . . ." Potter seemed genuinely distressed. "I got too ahead of myself. Trying to prove to you how much you meant to me when all I had to do was tell you."

"So that was a pity handjob?"

"No, that wasn't a- Why do you think everything has to do with charity? I very much enjoyed what we did, and would like to do it again, like I said, but only when you're ready."

Draco didn't know how to communicate to Potter that he was very ready, in fact, he was more than ready- but he had boundaries, and they needed to be respected.

"Potter, I . . ." He sighed. "I don't know if this is going to work. My boundaries were violated."

But Draco knew that wasn't fair. He'd had every power to stop Potter, and hadn't because he was enjoying himself. Potter looked like he wanted to say as much, so Draco assisted him.

"I know I said I wanted it, and I did. But that doesn't change the fact that I was . . . Emotionally vulnerable, and you took advantage."

"Draco, I can't read your mind." Potter sounded pissed now, and Draco felt himself curling away from him. "If something's the matter, you have to tell me."

I know, Draco wanted to tell him. I know and I'm sorry. But it still hurt because you didn't figure it out.

"I shouldn't solely blame you," said Draco. "But I just wish you would have read the situation a bit better- I wasn't in a position to say yes."

"Well, I'm sorry for my part."

Why did Potter apologizing feel so wrong?

"It's alright," Draco said, throat tightening up again.

"You're supposed to be my soulmate," Potter said miserably. "I'm not supposed to be making you feel like this. I only want you to be happy."

"That's a bit of a complicated recipe for someone like me," Draco assured him. "Your efforts are appreciated nonetheless."

Potter looked sad. "I hate it when you say stuff like that."

"Like what?"

"So forlorn. Like you've already given up- that you've accepted the fact that you won't be happy. It's almost insulting, because it implies that you can't be happy with me."

Draco, of course, being the selfish creature he was, hadn't thought about it this way. He hadn't considered what his actions would do to another person, naturally.

"I didn't mean it that way," he said, and his voice came out really small. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," said Potter, and now he sounded concerned. Draco squirmed under his piercing gaze.

"But I hurt your feelings."

"Not on purpose. You were only expressing how you feel, and I sorta twisted it to make it about me. I'm sorry. I'm just trying to understand where you're at."

How could Draco say it without completely giving himself away?

"Potter, I just want . . . I just want . . ."

"What is it?"

"Could you kiss me?" he whispered.

Potter drew nearer to him, breath ghosting over his lips. "Just kiss," he said.

Draco nodded as he felt Potter's hand slide softly up his cheek, thumb rubbing his skin.

"Just kiss." Then he closed his eyes, waiting for Potter's lips to land on his, but they never came. When he opened his eyes again, Potter was smiling at him.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just . . . looking at you. You've never looked quite so beautiful."

Draco shook his head, feeling color rise in his cheeks. "I'm not sure that's the right word, Potter."

"Pretty sure it is."

Then Potter was kissing him, and all the comebacks withdrew into the dark, inaccessible corners of Draco's brain.

He wrapped both his arms around Potter's neck, pulling him closer so their chests were flush. Potter gasped quietly into his mouth, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss. Draco was panting and flushed before long, and began to feel things stir downstairs.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from Potter.

"Are you okay?" Potter asked.

"More than," said Draco, voice low.

"Do you want to stop?"

"I mean . . . I think we should," said Draco, though he felt unsure- he wanted to keep going, keep kissing Potter, keep touching him, see what those magnificent hands could do . . .

"Yeah," Potter agreed instantly, and a sudden burst of guilt squeezed his stomach up tight. "We should."

"I do want to keep going," said Draco, wondering if it would be helpful.

"But we shouldn't," said Potter. "We agreed on just talking tonight, so that's what we'll do. I'm perfectly content just laying here with you and looking at you."

Draco bit his lip, ducking his head to avoid eye contact. Potter was having none of it.

"Hey," he said. "Look at me."

Draco did.

Green eyes looked softly into his own, and Potter wore an expression Draco had never seen on him before.

"I know we've been through a lot. I got really upset with you about the messaging thing, and I'll admit I overreacted a bit. I called you really awful names, I even got violent with you. That's no way to treat another person. I'm really sorry, Draco."

Potter took Draco's hand in his own, rubbing circles on his wrist. "Will you forgive me?" he whispered.

To say Draco was shocked would not have done his emotions the smallest iota of justice.

"I mean," Potter stammered, continuing, "I really fucked up, and I understand if you're no longer comfortable with me, or wish to pursue something with me."

"Where is this all coming from?" Draco asked. Earlier today, Potter had said he could never love him.

Potter shrugged. "Maybe it's common sense finally catching up to me. I dunno. But when I look at you, I need you to know it isn't charity. I don't want to help you- I want you to help yourself. But that's not what I see when I look at you. When I look at you, I see strength and passion inside you. It's deeply suppressed, but it's there, and if you'll just let it out . . ." He trailed off, and the circles on his wrists halted. To Draco's dismay, he looked very distressed.

"If you'll just . . . Be yourself again, but not like how you used to be. How you are now. The Draco who apologizes when he messes up. The Draco who can play a mean game of chess. The Draco who I can . . ." He trailed off again, and Draco felt himself clinging onto every word,

"Who I can see myself falling in love with."

Draco's ears had to have deceived him. There was simply no way. Or was he imagining things? Perhaps this was another, lesser-known but more malicious side-effect of prolonged Cruciatus?

"W-What?"

"Draco, I'm falling in love with you."

"Hold on." Draco now had to play catch-up, because something occurred that he'd missed. Potter didn't just all of a sudden flip this switch and have genuine, deep feelings for him.

"What?"

"You aren't- You don't- I can't- This is too much-" Draco gestured wildly with his hands, feeling an onset of tears, which he fought hard to suppress, "and you can't just say that to me after what happened today."

"It's just how I feel," said Potter quietly, and he sounded hurt.

"I know, but can't you see where that's a little unfair to lay on me after everything that's happened today?"

"You're one to talk," scoffed Potter. "I tell you I need some time to process after our kiss, and instead you decide to immediately tell me that you're my anonymous penpal."

Draco shook his head. "That isn't the same."

"Would you rather I not have said it?"

"No, your timing is just terrible."

"So, how do you feel?" Potter's eyes were wide, and he looked afraid to touch Draco, if the way he balled up his hands was any marker. "Should I not have said it?"

Draco shook his head. "No," he said. "I'm glad you said it."

Potter smiled. "Really?"

Draco nodded. Potter looked as though he wanted to touch him or kiss him again but was greatly restraining.

"You can hold me, if you like," said Draco. "That would be nice, actually."

He felt rather than heard Potter's heavy sigh of relief as the two adjusted so that Potter was spooning Draco, pressing a series of gentle kisses into the back of his neck, which made Draco shiver.

"This is nice," Draco said, feeling himself deflate in Potter's arms. In response, Potter's arms tightened around his middle, large hands splayed out almost possessively atop his stomach.

"Mhm," Potter agreed, as his fingers traced the delicate outline of Draco's ribs.

"You're too thin," he murmured into Draco's hair, pressing a kiss there. "Can feel your ribs."

"Being an ex Death Eater in this world with a sign on my back doesn't exactly leave me with the biggest appetite," said Draco, somewhat defensively.

Potter sighed. "Draco . . . I'm not trying to criticize you. I just wish you would . . . Take care of yourself better."

"You make it sound like I'm unhygienic."

"You?" Potter buried his nose into Draco's hairline, inhaling deeply, humming in approval. "Never."

"Do you really think I'm too thin?" Draco asked insecurely.

"I think you could do with a little more meat on your bones, but that's not a dig at how you actually look."

"Thanks. I'm so reassured."

"I shouldn't have said it, I'm sorry."

"You clearly said it for a reason. Out with it."

Potter sighed behind him. "It just makes me really sad, to think about you starving yourself."

"I'm trying to stop."

"I know, and you're doing well." Potter pressed another kiss on his head, and Draco shuddered. Why was Potter being so nice to him? When was the other shoe going to drop? "But . . . Yeah. It just hurts to watch. That's all I meant by it."

That's all. Like his words hadn't ripped Draco apart limb from limb.

Draco felt his face pinching in, something he did as a mechanism not to cry. It only sometimes worked, and when Potter said, "Hey, what's wrong?" he knew it was going to collapse, and then he was sniffling, shoulders shaking and face crumpling into something ugly and wrong and holding his hands up to his mouth to muffle his sobs.

"Oh, god, Draco, fuck, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry."

If he had to hear Potter apologize one more time, he was going to rip his head off.

"Stop apologizing for everything and maybe fucking think before you speak."

"I shouldn't have criticized your appearance. That was not my intention, and I should have been more sensitive. I'm really sorry."

"I'm so sick of hearing you apologize," said Draco wetly, rubbing his eyes and sniffling softly. "Just . . ."

"I know," said Potter. "I keep screwing up with us, and I dunno how to fix it."

"Well, saying you could see yourself loving me was nice, in spite of its chronological absurdity. Let's go back to that."

Potter chuckled, pressing him tighter to his own chest, hands curling possessively around Draco's abdomen. "I hate seeing you cry," he said.

"I know," said Draco. "I'm an ugly crier."

"You really aren't."

"You can't even see my face."

"You couldn't be ugly if you tried, Draco."

Draco felt a ball of warmth spread inside his cold, cold chest. Maybe they were going to be okay. Then, suddenly, he thought of something.

"What are their names?" he asked. Potter froze.

"You mean-"

"Yes. Who are they?"

"Eric and Blaine," said Potter instantly. "Fifth years."

"Eric and Blaine . . . I wonder who the third one was."

"You want to tell?"

"I don't know." Draco swallowed thickly. "I . . . I have my doubts."

"I'll go with you," Potter said instantaneously. "You won't have to do it alone. I'll be there for you every step of the way."

"But what if I tell and she finds a way to turn it back around on me?" Draco asked, feeling incredibly delicate all of a sudden. "What if she finds a way to turn me into the villain for framing two of her best students?"

"Draco, if they have the capacity to harm another human being with a knife, she's not losing much."

Draco sighed. "I suppose you have a point."

"McGonagall probably hasn't been able to rest easy at all since your attack, wondering when they're going to strike next."

"It would put her at ease to close this matter," Draco conceded.

"And it would give you the closure you need and allow you to truly heal from the experience," said Potter.

"Alright, well . . . You talked me into it. I'll tell."

"Draco . . ." Potter squeezed him even tighter, if that were possible, peppering any surface of the pale skin he could reach with butterfly kisses. "I'm so glad."

"Me too," Draco said honestly. If Potter could be brave, and tell him how he felt, then he could be brave and stick up for himself. How hard could it be?