Some people fall in love. Draco Malfoy had to crush onto it. And now you're thinking: Draco Malfoy? In love? Exactly. And you haven't heard the worst part yet. Wait till you find out who he's in love with. Well, she is- Opps, I almost gave her name away there! Sorry guys, but you'll have to read the story to find out who she is. PS: And don't forget to review!

The hero gets the girl

I'm a Malfoy. Slytherin, good-looking, rich. Perfect.

Aren't I?

Sometimes I really believe I am. When I tease some unfortunate first-year, when I enter the common room and everyone gazes at me in awe, when my father says so. And whatever he says is right.

But sometimes, I doubt it. There are times that I feel anything but perfect. There are times that I feel dirty, tainted, bad. And they always happen to be the exact same seconds that I see you. Unbelievable coincidence, eh?

Somehow I feel like a git when I see you. Like a low-class-git. Strange really, since you yourself happen to be one, I think and then hate myself for thinking that way, the way I've been taught by my father to think. But I've also been shown another way of thinking. By you. And it's quite different I should say.

Which one is right?

I don't know. I only know one thing that I shiver when you pass by and then a strange heat runs up my body as you look at me. Your eyes linger on me questioningly – you probably wonder why I am not teasing you as usual.

Things change, Weasley. Get used to it.

You can't tease her, a voice I've grown to despise and push at the back of my head finds its way back and whispers to me things I don't want to hear, things I'm not allowed to hear. But I do. In fact I have to admit that when you pass by I feel like all the strength of my body abandons me and I wonder how I can still stand. For a moment I can't even move, much more insult you.

Our eyes lock for a moment and they struggle to tell you what my mouth can't. But I won't let them and you won't listen anyway, will you? You break the gaze but I keep staring like some stupid thirteen year-old boy who just fell in love…

Am I in love?

I stand still and watch your hair flying around your head like uncontrollable red flames as you turn around and leave with your friends.

Does that mean I'm in love?

I follow you, trying to be unnoticed. You wouldn't notice me anyway, I think.

Does that mean I'm in love?

I'm a Malfoy.

Does that mean I'm not?

It is happening. The final Battle. This very moment.

I'm one of them. A Death Eater.

You look at me again but I avoid your eyes. I don't want to see the repulsion for me in them. But I can imagine it. Eventually you lock my eyes in your beautiful chocolate ones and I can't do anything to prevent it, to stop it.

The odd thing is, I don't find any disgust, any hate in them. I only find pity. You're sorry for me, I can tell. Don't be. I don't deserve it.

A scream is heard. Potter. Voldemort is torturing him. You jump between them just before he mutters his final curse to Potter. But it is cast on you instead.

For the second time, Voldemort is trapped in his own trap. The curse goes back to him again and kills him, this time for good. You have created a love-shield for Potter, like his mother did, and died right after. Why should now be any different?

I see Potter taking you in his arms, holding you like the most fragile crystal, the most valuable diamond. Because you are. I hear him saying he loves you, that he has always loved you and never knew it.

I always knew it, Weasley. From the very first moment.

Yet, I'm the one standing in the corner watching you from the distance, whispering all that I've been dying to tell you for so long, with no one listening but the rain.

Granger is sobbing in Weasley's shoulders and he's weeping too.

Bloody Potter is crying, his tears falling on your face and your beautiful unfocused eyes.

But you are not crying. How can you not be crying?

Some Death Eaters and Order of the Phoenix members are still battling, some are dead, some are just gazing, the world is still spinning and the sky is black velvet, like the world hasn't just been ripped apart, like I don't just feel like a dead man myself.

He leans in and kisses you softly on the lips. You smile at him, you take a look around - maybe you're looking for something or someone-and then you simply pass away.

I'm screaming inside. Screaming your name. And praying you'll hear me.

It figures. It fucking figures. I'm just the bad guy and bad guys get nothing but pain. It's just who I am.

The hero gets the girl.