At A Guess I'm Second Best

(A/N) Yes, I'm currently writing a fanfiction but I'm suffering a little from writer's block so this is a oneshot/songfic just to get my creative juices flowing lol
By the way, italics is the song lyrics
Story based on 'At A Guess I'm Second Best' by All Forgotten

So here we are

It always happens like this; somehow we find ourselves alone and then it happens. Guaranteed. Everytime. And, believe it or not, this happens a lot. I'm Head Boy and she's Head Girl, of course we're bound to end up doing rounds or planning a banquet together sometime

This time, I was studying late and alone in the library when I heard the thud of books on the hard oak table. Looking up, my eyes met caramel brown ones that had been darkened almost black by lust.

"So," she said, glancing around the dark and distinctly empty library, "Here we are."

We've given up on leaving our thoughts to our pillowcases

I can't lie; I've longed to be able to touch her for years, to brush a stray curl out of her eyes, to hold her hand. She's beautiful, the traditional, natural kind; her entire body is perfectly proportioned, from her almond shaped eyes to her never-ending legs.

I'll never forget the first time it happened. We'd just finished a prefects meeting and as everyone else left the room she knocked a stack of parchment off the desk. Cheeks flaming, she crouched down and started grabbing for them, stacking them back on the desk above her head. Just as she reached for the last paper, I bent down and picked it up first. She straightened, her eyes meeting mine.

"Thanks," she whispered, her cheeks still tinged an embarrassed shade of pink.

I opened my mouth to reply, but no words came out. Instead I reached out and pulled her towards me, my mouth crashing against hers. It took a moment, but soon she was kissing me back with just as much fervour, just as much need.

Since then, we've given up pretending that the sexual tension that exists between us is really a pure hatred, we've stopped hugging our pillows at night and dreaming of the other; now we meet up when the mood arises, like tonight in the library when she sought me out.

Because the gust caught our feelings and threw them up in the air

She was still staring at me, sitting now on the edge of the desk. Her school skirt was riding up ever so slightly, but enough to reveal her slender thigh. The pale skin caught my eye and immediately I felt a warm rush of heat from the top of my head to the tip of my toes.

Yes, our feelings for each other are purely sexual. At least, I think they are. Whenever her gaze is turned on me her eyes are filled with lust, her breathing gets heavy, her cheeks hot with colour; it's not love, it's the purest kind of desire.

But is this how I feel about her? All those years longing for her to notice me and it all comes down to lustful glances and casual sex? My head tells me that I never had feelings for her; I just admired her talent as witch. And my heart, well, my head told him to shut up months ago.

Now please girl I understand, And far be it from me to homewreck

I snapped to my senses with a jolt as she ran her hand over the exposed skin high on her thigh and I caught a glimpse of silver glinting at her finger. That ring, so delicate and perfect, adorned with winking diamonds, just like her.

Only, it wasn't a gift from me to remind her of how much I care about her; in fact, it wasn't from me at all. It was, in reality, a present from Ronald Weasley.

Her boyfriend of over one year.

But the envy kills me

I know it's wrong. I know that every time she looks at me, or thinks about me, or dreams about me, or is with me that she's cheating on him.

But what else can I do?

I want her to be mine, I need to show her that I'm better than that redheaded weasel so that she'll leave him and be mine and mine only.

Whenever I see them in the hallways, holding hands and canoodling, I feel my pupils dilate with rage. My fists clench as he slings his arm casually around her neck, Blood pounds in my ears when he nestles his face into her neck, whispering something dirty into her ear to make her blush.

It kills me to see her with him, but far be it from me to ruin her image by walking up to him and punching him in the face. Instead, I bruise my knuckles on the nearest suit of armour or blank expanse of wall.

And I've never felt more right from doing something so wrong, so wrong

Reality slides over me again when I realise she's sitting directly in front of me, one leg either side of my chair. I glance frantically at her face, looking desperately for anything other than overwhelming lust. She freezes, a confused expression on her face.

"You want to do this, right?" she asks in her normal voice, all traces of her earlier seduction gone, "Like, this feels right doesn't it?"

Yes, I want to scream, but then I change my mind and want to whisper no. It feels so right to be with her, but at the same time it feels so wrong.

I'm probably far from the four letters you hear when he whispers in your ear

I know she doesn't love me, How could she? After everything I've put her through? I don't even know where this fling we've got going has come from. It's just so unlike her, and so unlike me to reciprocate.

She loves him. I heard her tell him so yesterday in line for Potions. I was leaning against the wall talking with Crabbe and Goyle when she slipped past me, brushing ever so slightly against my arm. I watched her walk right up to Weaslebee, lean right in close to his ear. Then her eyes flicked to my own, her gaze staring straight into my soul as she whispered 'I love you', only to me it was as loud as if she were screaming it.

At the time, my heart skipped a beat; she looked at me and said I love you. She looked at me when she said it. She was trying to tell me without making it too obvious. But then my brain kicked in, reminding me who she was dating and who she was fucking.

No, I told myself, she's making the physicality of our relationship clear.

But have you ever felt more right from doing something so wrong?

I opened my eyes as I left the memory, realising with a jolt that both my hands were running gently up her thighs and under her skirt while she slowly unbuttoned my shirt, her gaze fixed firmly on her hands.

As my fingertips grazed the edge of her panties she shivered, her entire body erupting in goose bumps. Her work on my shirt faltered, her eyes closed, and she bit her bottom lip in that sexy way she did when she was bursting to say something.

I slowly withdrew one of my hands to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ears. Her eyes snapped open at the gentle movement; it was romantic as opposed to our usual sensual.

Sitting here with her, in the school library late at night, felt right. We belonged here, in this moment.

But at the same time, I couldn't have been further from the truth.

This is so wrong

Taking a deep breath, I ran my hand along the length of her arm until it came to rest on top of her one of her own hands. My calloused fingers brushed the silver ring, that hated gift from Weasley.

It was then that I realised I couldn't do it. I couldn't ruin her relationship anymore than I already had.

I let go of her and stood up, as if I'd been burned. I shook my head desperately at her, my eyes trying to say all the words I couldn't. Without giving her the chance to say anything, I turned on my heel and walked towards the exit doors, praying that she hadn't noticed my eyes filling with tears I would never let fall, reassuring myself that she couldn't see me shaking.

"Draco?" she called, but I never answered. "This is so wrong," she whispered, and she never knew that I heard.

I only stand a chance when your other romance has fallen shy from the mark

Outside the library, I leant against the wall trying to compose myself. I couldn't go back to the Common Room, not now. Instead I wandered aimlessly down the hallway, slipping into the nearest classroom and sinking to the floor, my head in my hands.

I guess, in a way, I have Weaslebee to thank for my relationship with his girlfriend; after all, she only comes after me when they've had a falling out, which happens almost every other day. Or when she needs someone who understands her and sympathises with what she's going through. Or when she needs to feel safe. Or when she just needs me.

I'm only good enough when Weasley stuffs up; the back up, the guy on the side. When he's not perfect she finds someone else who fills the gaps – me.

If I had you, I'd take you from the pain his distance puts you through

I watch her more than she'd like to admit. I see her relationship for what it really is. I see her for what she really is. Flawless on the outside but at breaking point underneath. One day her porcelain doll exterior is going to crack, releasing the horror within that is her wrath.

What she doesn't understand is that I could save her from all that. I see the pain in her eyes when Weaslebee would rather hang with Saint Potter and talk Quidditch than sit with his girlfriend while she studied. I see the tightening of her mouth when he gives congratulatory hugs and high fives to his mates, showing them more affection than he has to her all day. I see the stiffness in her posture when he parades her around the hallways like some trophy.

I wouldn't be that guy. I'd be the boyfriend who quizzed her on her Arithmancy notes while actually understanding them. I'd be the boyfriend who would wait expectantly outside the change rooms for her to congratulate me at the end of a wild game of Quidditch. I'd be the boyfriend who'd hold her hand in public and not care what anyone else thought, as long as she was happy. I would be perfect.

And I'd do it for her.

Oh, if I had you, I'd do a million things that he could never do

She deserves the best. The best books to read, the best clothes to wear, the best opportunities at life. She'd the brightest witch of our age, of course she deserves the best – she is the best.

I can give her that. I can give her the big fancy house with acres of gardens filled with flowers that rival her beauty. I can give her a library the size of which gives Hogwarts' a run for its money. I can get her any job she wants in the Ministry, not that she'll need my help with brains like hers. I can give her that, and I have the Galleons to prove it.

Which is more than I can say for Weasel.

I bet you tiptoe around, 'Cause you keep hearing the sound of your lips touching mine

A sound outside the classroom rouses me from my thoughts. When I came in, I hadn't shut the door entirely, and now I crouched at the crack next to the doorframe, watching her silhouette slowly make its way down the corridor, headed in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

She moved almost as if she were a puff a smoke, a figure that floated a couple of inches above the ground. Watching her, I realised that this was how she wandered the halls of Hogwarts during the day, too. She always walked as if she were on tiptoe, trying hard to go unnoticed amongst the meandering students.

Or was that only when I was around? Whenever she didn't know I was there or that I was watching, she seemed like every other 17 year old at Hogwarts. But the moment her eyes met mine across the Great Hall or she walked into Potions her behaviour immediately changed.

Why? Was it because she was worried she was going to slip up and then everyone would know she was sleeping with the enemy? Or was it because he put her on edge and she had to concentrate even harder when he was around? Or was it because every time she saw him she felt their last embrace, heard the sound of their kiss?

At a guess I'm second best

Sighing, I put my hand against the door, gently pushing it shut with a soft snap. Hoping she hadn't heard, I rested my forehead against the wall, cursing myself for letting her go and then not having the guts to follow her.

I'm not good enough to date her, yet I'm too good for her to hate me. I guess that makes me second best…and to Weasel.

I'm probably far from the four letters you hear when he whispers in your ear

Sitting there, staring at that blank expanse of wall next to the door, my thoughts drifted back to the other day when she had told Weaselbee that she loved him. He'd said it back, louder than she had, and she's smiled in reply.

I felt my heart clench as his mouth formed the words, his sparkling eyes searching out hers. And all I wanted to do was wrap my hands around his neck until that sparkle was no more than a memory.

How dare he say that to her? She's mine, even if she doesn't entirely know it yet. He doesn't love her, not like I do.

But have you ever felt more right from doing something so wrong?

I can't tell her. If she ever found out how I feel about her that would be it. She'd end it and I'd never get to feel her hand in my own, or hear her voice ringing with laughter only I could hear, or taste her sweet lips again. No, better to live this lie than to lose her all together.

But what if I told her? Maybe she'd realise that she felt the same about me, and she'd leave Weasley and we could start again together. Maybe her eyes will light up and she'll tell me that she's always loved me; she just didn't say anything because she was worried that I didn't feel the same. Maybe she'll…maybe.

A lot of maybes; dare I risk hearing the right one? Telling her I love her is one of the most wrong things I could do…but, God, it feels so right.

This is so wrong

The silence of the sleeping school pressed in on me, a loud rushing in my ears that I couldn't seem to block out. I still sat there, leaning against the wall, contemplating the decision I had come to.

I had two options: tell her and risk her laughing at me, breaking it off and revealing her own feelings for me; or to pretend these feelings didn't exist and lose my one chance to be happy. Either way, I was screwed.

Taking a deep breath, I made my choice. No backing out now. And with the knowledge that I'd finally made a decision I was going to stick to, no matter what, I got slowly to my feet and trekked the familiar hallways down to the dungeons where my bed lay waiting for me in the Slytherin dormitories.

Thank God you're happy, let the envy kill me

Walking towards the Great Hall the next morning, I ran over what I was going to tell her in my head at least 40 times before reaching the Entrance Hall. I was, as usual, flanked by other Slytherins, but I hardly listened to their conversation, only adding the occasional nod or laugh when they looked at me expectantly.

As we crossed the Entrance Hall headed towards a speedy breakfast before class, I caught movement in my peripheral vision – she was walking up the staircase, hand held firmly between Weasel's long fingers. I almost called out then, t old her how I really felt, but I knew that I had to wait until the moment was right.

So instead of rushing up the stairs, wrenching her from Weasley's grasp and kissing her with more passion than I've ever felt in my life, I looked carefully away, focusing my attention on getting from the spot I stood to the Slytherin table where I could absorb myself in the eating and talking of every day life.

My nerve almost failed, however, when I saw the smile that played on her lips as she spoke to Weasel. She was happy with him, and I envied the way that he could make her laugh so easily when all my presence ever did was get her more hot than she'd ever been in her life.

I'd trade all that for just one true smile that was mine and mine alone.

If only you knew the way I dream about you

Sitting down at the table, I immediately seized any of the surrounding dishes and helped myself to generous servings of each, gaining me some odd looks from the other Slytherins who had never seen me do more than pick at my food. When my plate was heaped with everything from bacon and eggs to grilled tomatoes and spinach, I stopped and just stared at the concoction, not sure why I had created such a thing when I had no intentions of eating it.

Making a sound of disgust in the back of my throat, I shoved the plate away and drained a glass of pumpkin juice instead. God, I needed something stronger than that.

Even though I knew she wasn't there, I let my eyes wander over to the Gryffindor table where many of the students still sat, the final remnants of their breakfasts still and cold on their plates. The place she normally filled was bright with a shaft of sunlight, a beacon to remind me of what I was missing.

In my minds eye I could see her sitting there, her school blouse unbuttoned part-way down her chest because of the heat, sleaves rolled up past her elbows, trademark curls tied back in a messy ponytail. She would have a quill in her hand, scrawling a long-winded letter to her parents or jotting down some last minute Arithmancy notes. I could see her laugh, losing all interest in her task and turning her attention instead to Pothead and Weaselbee, whose images I just couldn't quite conjure up.

Suddenly I jumped up, realising that the room was feeling very stuffy. Ignoring questions from my friends, I turned and walked briskly from the Great Hall, resisting the strong urge I had to run.

If only you knew the way I dream about you

Storming through the Entrance Hall, something glittery caught my eye and brought me to a stop in front of the great glass funnels that housed our school points system. I was standing directly in front of the Gryffindor hourglass, a heap of red rubies piled high above my head.

They reminded me of the dream I'd had the other night, the one where I'd placed a gorgeous gold necklace with a ruby pendant around her neck and let it rest on her naked torso. She'd looked so beautiful; her skin a healthy brown and soft to the touch, a sheet wrapped around her supple waist, curls tousled from spending the night in my bed. The sun, streaming through a gap in the curtains, gave the room an ethereal glow and highlighted the caramel of her hair.

I wanted to stay in that moment forever – I needed that moment. Finally, I managed to tear my eyes away from the blood-red stones and I turned, ascending the staircase to the upper levels at almost a run, fingers crossed that I'd find her in the library.

I'm probably far from the four letters you hear when he whispers in your ear

Rounding a corner I was thrown into a corridor filled with students; I forgot that this was where the courtyard entrances converged and, therefore, where a vast majority of the school would meet up during breaks. To my right, behind a tapestry, I knew there lay a secret passageway to the floor above.

I ducked into it, sprinting up the stairs two at a time before I burst into the deserted corridor above. At least, I had thought it was deserted. A slight movement to my left caught my eye and I turned, expecting anything but the sight that waited for me.

There she was, up against the wall, her body wrapped around Weasley's. So consumed were they in their activities that they hadn't noticed me. A distant rushing filled my ears, the bottom of my stomach fell away, the ground was opening up beneath me – so this is what heartbreak felt like.

Regaining movement in my legs, I managed to turn and stumble away, not caring where I went as long as I could get rid of the image of them together that seemed to have been burned into my eyes.

But have you ever felt more right from doing something so wrong?

When I reached the end of the hallway I tripped, throwing my hands out to stop me crashing face first into the floor. On the way down, my arm caught a suit of armour and the metal clanged together angrily.

I didn't need to turn around to see that she was no longer wrapped around Weasley, to see the look of horror form on her face when it dawned on her who had caught them. She called out to me, but her voice sounded as if it were coming from far away. Scrambling to my feet, I ran blindly through to school.

It was a bad idea to tell her, I should've known that I could never mean anything more to her than a quick snog in the broom cupboard near the Potions room. I'd ignored these feelings for a reason. What do I tell her now? I turned the corner and was so shocked by the fact that she wasn't the frigid Mudblood they all made her out to be that I fell over? I could almost see the tears filling her eyes, feel the way she would draw away from me and never come back.

You've done it this time.

This is so wrong

Finally, I reached the main staircase and I thundered down into the Entrance Hall below, scattering those students who were still streaming from the Great Hall after a late breakfast. I was heading for the main doors and the freedom of the expansive school grounds where I could lay low until I was sure I could slip into the Slytherin common room undetected.

"Draco!"

The shout rang out, immediately silencing the grumbling students I had left in my wake, picking up the books they had dropped and rubbing their bruised shoulders.

I turned and saw her, standing at the top of the stairs – alone. Her face was flushed pink and her chest was heaving; a sure sign that she'd been running. Her hair was coming loose from its fastenings, long tendrils falling into her eyes. Her shirt had come untucked, tie askew. Then I noticed her eyes – tears lined her lashes, threatening to fall at any moment.

As she moved down a few stairs towards me, holding out her hand and saying "Draco, please?", I saw Weasley appear over her shoulder. He, too, looked as if he had been running from his red cheeks, yet his eyes were dark with the confusion of the choice his girlfriend had made.

My eyes met hers.

"Please?" she repeated, begging me this time to see that she felt the same way.

Shaking my head, I turned and left the Entrance Hall, satisfied that no one could see the way my eyes filled with tears or would hear the gut-wrenching roar I would emit once I entered the Forbidden Forest. Satisfied that she would forget.

At a guess, I'm second best