1996, Draco's sixth year

It was before five in the morning, but Draco was wide awake. His bed felt cold, cold and lonely. The temperature in the dungeons was never very warm and the Slytherins were used to that, but he was not used to the loneliness that was colder than ice.
Shivering, he pulled the blanket up to his chin and thought about the time when his bed hadn't been lonely, when he had never woken up because of the cold but stayed awake to watch the person next to him sleep. Or, when the person next to him wasn't asleep, do something even better.
His heart ached when he thought about the old times, times that would never be again. The pain felt so real, as if a frozen blade would slowly bore into his chest. It made him feel even colder.

Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father would yell at him if he saw him.

"What are you doing, weeping like a babe about things you can't change? If the Dark Lord could see you like this, what would he think? Get your goddamned ass up, before I kick it for you! My son, MY son does not weep" Then he would hit him. Then he would slap his face.

Draco could hear the blond man as if he stood right next to his bed.

I can't continue like this, he thought. I have a quest; I can't abandon my purpose because I'm feeling lovesick.

Draco made a decision. He would not mourn long lost times; he would concentrate on the Here and Now.

With a smile, he closed his eyes. He would try not to think about the past, but he didn't have any control about his dreams…

1990, Draco's first year

Everybody was talking about this Potter-boy. The black-haired, skinny orphan. The little kid who defeated the Dark Lord. The boy who lived.

Draco spat on the ground. He had offered the ungrateful brat friendship, but that cocky bastard would rather be with that red-headed Weasley boy.

It was the first time that somebody had denied Draco something he wanted. His family was one of the wealthiest in England and one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. His father was an aristocratic wizard with good name, and a member of the member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. His blood was pure for generations, but still, Potter preferred the company of that flea-bitten, poor Weasley-boy with a wand that shows the unicorn-hair and a recycled rat from his brothers.

Draco highly despised the whole pack. Potter, Weasley, and, especially the mudblood-girl Granger that they always hung around with.

All the other students seemed to love Potter. He was not directly handsome, but still, the little girls couldn't stop giggling and blushed when he walked past them.

Potter was the youngest Quidditch player for 100 years and caught the snitch spectacularly and won the first game against Slytherin.

Supposedly, he also killed a troll that was about to eat a helpless girl, defeated a 3-headed dog, and found a way to get rid of Filch's feared cat Mrs. Norris, and all that in just a few months. Potter didn't miss an opportunity to win glory.

Draco was pretty sure that the last two things were just idle rumors (Where would something as big as a 3-headed dog hide without anybody noticing?), and Mrs. Norris was still stalking around in the school hallways.

There were only a few that Draco could talk to openly. His Slytherin friends didn't like Potter either, but mainly because of the Quidditch-loss he caused them. No one had a reason to truly despise, to hate him, like Draco did.

Anyways, Draco still got his satisfaction. With his friends Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, he didn't miss an opportunity to make Potter miserable. It became Draco's main purpose, he loved to terrorize, torture, and bully Potter and his little friends.

He swore to himself that he would make their lives as miserable as possible.

1994, Draco's forth year

In the fourth year, everything changed. No one did notice, not even Draco himself. He didn't suddenly start to like Potter, no, that the slimy little prig found a way to manipulate the goblet of fire and become a forth champion only fueled his contempt.

However, after all the time it became more and more tiring to diss on the glorious "Hogwarts Trio", and Draco didn't tried to bawl Potter out with all his heart anymore.

Then the day of the first contest came. All four champions had to defeat a monstrous, giant winged, fire-breathing dragon. Draco was excited for this day. He had a fable for violence. Potter had bad luck that day. His opponent was the Hungarian Horntail, well-known as the most dangerous dragon ever.

When Potter stepped on the field, Draco could tell easily that the black-haired guy couldn't really comprehend how dangerous the situation was. He stood there alone, with just his wand. It was impossible that a fourteen-year-old boy could cast spells that were powerful enough to trick a dragon and steal the golden egg in its nest.

Potter raised his wand. "Accio!" Nothing happened. Draco wondered where Harry had learned that spell.

The mudblood probably taught him. But how did they know that he would need that spell?

"Accio!", Potter shouted again. This time his firebolt came flying to him.

This little shit! He knew it! He knew he would have to battle a dragon and he was prepared for it, I bet my ass!

He cursed Potter with all bad words he knew. He was a definitely good at flying and showed his skills as a seeker at every Quidditch game, even Draco had to admit that, but Potter struggled against the Horntail.

The dragon was chained to the ground, but Potter kept mocking it and flying around its fire-breathing head, so that, with one powerful stroke of its wing, the dragon broke the chain and set after Harry. Both disappeared out of Draco's field of view. Several seconds passed, then minutes, and no one knew where they were at.

This was the first time when Draco felt something else, something different, something he had never felt before, especially no for his official arch enemy. It was not hate, not despise, not even jeer or mischievousness.

Draco was worried. He was seriously concerned about Harry's welfare. He hoped that Harry was well and that he would manage to steal the egg and that the whole battle would be over soon without major injuries. Draco feared that Harry would be injured, or even killed.

And the worst was: Draco could not explain why. He had always wished the worst to happen to the pale, skinny boy with the great story, and in return, Potter has never showed any kindness to Draco. However, now he felt some kind of strange affection for the boy who lived.

All his emotions and feelings were hidden behind the mean, ironic smile Draco wore like a mask.

When Harry returned, Draco managed to make a disappointed face and he didn't spare on comments about how the pathetic little Potter should have been eaten, even if he was honestly glad that the boy that lived was still alive and more or less fine.

From that day on Draco thought of Harry in a different way. He still tried to make everybody think he hated him, but while they had their quarrels in the hallways, he didn't think about the endless pain that he would like Potter to feel, he thought of his magical, green eyes and his glossy black hair.

When he had classes together with Harry, he could hardly follow the teachers anymore. Draco felt as if he was bewitched. He spent every awake second thinking about that boy that changed his views about nearly everything, and when he was sleeping, his dreams were even better, and so realistic that Draco started thinking about being with Harry. Nearly everybody in Hogwarts had a boy- or a girlfriend now, so why shouldn't he?

There was just one Problem: He needed to talk to his former arch enemy. Potter didn't even know about Draco's mixed feelings. How could Draco manage to talk to him alone when his crush was always surrounded by his friends?

After he stalked Harry for a whole week without success, he decided to try the traditional, girly way and wrote him a note.

"Harry, come to Myrtle's bathroom, tomorrow at midnight to. Come alone."

He didn't sign the short invitation, because he knew that if he was honest, Potter wouldn't come, at least not alone. Myrtle's bathroom seemed like the perfect location. No one ever came there, and the teachers wouldn't be suspicious if there were any voices or other strange noises. Draco hoped that Potter would be curious enough to follow the short instructions.

The Slytherin boy was not naive enough to be unprepared. Before the meeting he sneaked up to get rid of the Mourning Myrtle.

"Stupefy", he whispered and pointed his wand on the ghost before the girl could see him. Of course, a bathroom was not a very romantic location for a first date, so he tried his best to clean the place up. He swept the floor and polished the mirrors until everything was neat and shiny.

After he was done, he needed to return to the Slytherin Dungeon, otherwise his friends would wonder where he was.

He tried his best to seem like the ironic, mean bully that the other Slytherins knew and loved. The hands of the antique clock seemed to move in slow motion. Draco could manipulate others like a king, he could make Crabbe admire him and make Goyle steal whatever he wanted from the kitchen and he could make them bully everyone who didn't do what he wanted, but he couldn't speed up time.
At ten, he went to bed, even if he knew that it would be impossible for him to sleep.

"Are you tired yet, Draco-Honey?" Blaise Zabini asked with a mocking smile. His fellow Slytherins seemed to think that it was an unbelievable witty comment; most of them burst into laughter. Draco chose to ignore them. He was not in the mood for a quarrel like this.

Usually, he would be too proud to let anybody be sassy to him, but this wasn't a usual night. This night would change everything, Draco could feel that. His heart was beating twice as fast as usually and he felt a nervous tingle in his belly, as if he had hundreds of butterflies in his belly. No one else went to bed yet, so Draco was alone. He took out a little mirror and a comp and checked his hair. He wanted to look good. It would be the first time that he could talk honestly to the boy that had fascinated him for years.

Now he realized that Harry had always been special for him. They hated each other, but they also needed each other more than anyone else. And now that Draco had looked through the hate, he could see something different.

He had no idea what would happen. Maybe Harry would run away as soon as he recognized Draco. Maybe he would not believe him, maybe he would laugh. Maybe he would tell the teachers. Or maybe, and that was the worst possibility, Harry wouldn't even come.

At eleven, mostly everybody was sound asleep. A few were still chatting in the common room, but they would go to bed soon, at least Draco hoped that they would.

At a quarter to midnight, everything was quiet. Draco got up silently; he knew that if he made any noise, he would be in trouble. Big trouble. It was almost completely dark, but Draco knew the dungeon well enough to coordinate in it without bigger problems.

"Malfoy?" Draco cursed. Why did Zabini not chose another night to demonstrate how long he could stay awake?

"Don't mind me. I am not even here" Draco could smell Whisky. Some of the boys always smuggled alcohol into the castle and had drinking competitions. Hopefully, Zabini was drunk enough to believe him.

"But I can see you… You are right… In front of me…"

"No, you are dreaming."

"I'm not dreaming, I'm not even asleep, I'm not a little Pussy like you… going to sleep at ten…"

And with these words he passed out.

Damn, I was lucky… Please let nobody wake up now…

The castle was totally empty. At night it was hard to believe that there were ever people in the old corridors. Not even the ghosts were floating through the walls.

Draco reached the bathroom without any problems. He was still early, and Harry would probably not show up for a few minutes. The hands of the blonde boy were shaking of nervousness. Myrtle's ghost was hanging in the air.

There were steps approaching. Draco prayed they were Harry's. The bathroom door opened, but there was no one standing there.

The dark shade of a person appeared where there had only been air before.

"Malfoy?" Harry looked as if he just saw a dead man walk. The confused expression made him look even more handsome to Draco.

"Potter." It was the only thing he could think of. He managed to smile nervously.

"Why the hell did you want to talk to me? Is that one of your dirty little tricks?" Malfoy thought of hundreds of things he could say – ironic comments about what dirty tricks he knew, soft compliments, or medieval-style confessions of his love – but not a word left his lips.

"What is your fucking problem" Harry was completely outraged. Draco felt as if somebody took control of his body. He only watched himself when he took Harry's hand gently and pulled him closer to him. Their hearts were beating incredibly loud and in the same rhythm.

"What made you think I had a problem?"