To see perfection you have to notice the flaws, the broken pieces glued together to shine and strive and entice you into a false sense of security, so that you believe that a person was perfect, and was perfection in its best form, that nothing could break them, nothing could be wrong.

Oh how wrong, how horribly, horribly wrong we were to think such things.

If you look deeper you see the steely gaze, the look of longing, pure hast and want, a want to be free and not have to pretend anymore, to finally be able to relax and just say "Here I am world", to live and to have lived, but it's not always that easy.

You have to look for the broken heart and the selflessness. They have no choice in what they feel, or what they do, the just do it.

That was Draco.

Perfection.

Perfectly broken.

Perfect for me to fix, and perfect for me.

Love is strange and scary and so many other things. It makes you happy, and it drives you insane, and it grips you so tightly with want and need you feel like you're going to explode. Need to hold them and have them, and want to be with them and tell them a thousand times over how much you love them, and still you'd never be able to say it enough. Not to truly tell them what your hearts feels.

I don't think I'll ever be able to understand love, all I know is it's what I feel, and to me, It's the best thing in the whole world. I have my Draco, and he has me, and that's all that matters.

After all the time I can barely believe it took me that long to notice, to see the real man behind the mask. He mesmerised me for so long, but for all the wrong reasons. His sharp wit, the smirk and the gaze he gave you, the gaze that made you hot with fear and anger and cool with rage and frustration. The gaze that confused you so much you forgot why you were arguing you just argued.

And that's what he wanted; someone to get close enough and maybe notice the broken, the beaten.

But I didn't, I just lashed out, I hit him, I hurt him.

So aware of the world at his age, Barely 17 but so wise and beyond his years and sometimes it showed, sometimes his face was deathly pale not the alabaster tone it usually adopted. Or sometimes there were dark purple rings that clouded his beautiful eyes, grey in the sunshine, silver in the moon.

I think that's the first time it changed, or maybe it had always been there. I was somewhere between a false state of denial, and a strong state or confusion. I'd notice many times how beautiful he was, in every aspect of the word. Beautiful inside and out. I think it was the first time I recognised the bittersweet difference between Not Really Hate, But Not Really Fondness and love. It stung to see him walk into the room and feel so far away. To have him a mere few feet away but feel so distant.

I wanted, needed, to be closer. It hit me like a brick wall, hard and fast.

I'd fallen for him.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

It was Potions. Second period. Friday morning, just before half term.

He walked in with his head down, alone. He'd changed a lot since I'd first met him. I don't know what had happened but he'd changed.

He didn't taunt me anymore, we hardly ever had anything to do with each other, and that hurt.

He didn't have his goons hanging from him, or that desperate excuse for a person, Pansy Parkinson.

He was a different man, and it pained me to see him hurting so.

His hair was the same as always if not more silky and full. Light blonde, almost silver. I itched for my fingers to be guided through it, fingering the soft strands.

His robes were long, and pulled around his slender frame, which had filled out with years of Quidditch. He took a seat two rows ahead of me. I was seated alone, Hermione and Ron were sat together, and I was on the bench across from theirs. The seat next to him was empty and he sighed as he slumped down, his body easing into the chair, with almost a sigh of relief and gratitude. I ached to sit next to him, and the next thing I knew, my bag was over my shoulder and as my legs carried me to him, 15 pairs of eyes were on me. I was thankful not everyone was here yet. And as I sat down next to him, I knew this would be gossip that wouldn't go away any time soon. Oh no, the Gryffindor's loved to know everybody's business and the Slytherin's loved to keep tags on everybody.

Whispers erupted in the room, and as I dared to glance around in their direction, Hermione and Ron were staring wide eyed; the classic Dear-In-Headlights look spread across their faces. And to be honest? I didn't give two fucks.

My bag was set under the table and ours bodies were heart ragingly close, ours knees brushed as I turned to him.

With a slight nod, "Draco"

It was the first time he'd ever heard me call him that. But he'd always been Draco to me, never Malfoy. Just Draco, my Draco.

He stared at me with wide eyes, eyes that screamed out to be seen, really seen, and a soul that screamed out to be loved, understood. I knew I was the man for the job. Then they softened and he smiled, really smiled, and one word escaped his lips the never sounded so good. It was like it was made for him to whisper, scream, gasp.

It was his, as was I.

"Harry…"

The whole world lit up and I couldn't help but return his beautiful smile.

The rest of the lesson passed far too quickly, we worked hand over hand, and not in the forceful way as it had been many years before when working together had been a punishment. No, it was more a blessing. I got to be close to him.

We worked in a far more graceful way, almost like a dance, and the smile that graced his lips was enough to set my heart on fire. I was burning hot, and it felt good.

We finished first and just had time to sit. We were enveloped in a space of our own, where an understanding of trust grew, that really, had always been there.

It's amazing how fighting with someone for so long emits you to getting to know the person almost as much as you know yourself.

And as we began to talk, and as his words wrapped around me, and his voice warmed me up, I lost myself in his eyes and found myself in the best place in the whole world where nobody else mattered, nobody but Draco.

Soon the bell rang and it was over before it had even begun and I was sad. A true honest genuine sadness crept over me. I was having such a good time, the best I'd had in a while. But as we all stood to leave and walk on to our next lessons, and I had a side glued to Dracos', things didn't look bad for either of us. He was smiling and for once the haunted edge that hung in his eye was gone, and the beaten stoop to his posture was lost, forgotten, and that would do for now. It was the best I could do.

I wanted to make him ok, I wanted to take his pain away, and I knew for now I had done just that and that would do. It would do.

The Friday slipped away and we were caught stealing glances at each other over dinner. Smiling, a blush tingeing our faces, looking away when the other caught us with our wandering eyes and lust filled gazes.

I hardly slept that night. Thoughts of Draco danced around in my head, his smile, the way he said my name, his eyes, his gorgeous, gorgeous eyes and the way they glimmered in the light. His smooth slender fingers moving gracefully chopping, cutting mixing, the way his face was a wonderful picture of concentration. What his face looked liked when I talked, he gave himself over to my words getting fully immersed in them, taking them in and actually listening to me. I've never had anybody do that before. Actually listen properly, and because they wanted to, not because they had to.

And then soon the night slipped away and we found ourselves amongst the few people staying home at the break, so we spent it together.

It was…amazing.

The best time I've ever had, I'll never forget it. It's when it finally happened, when the hate turned to lust turned to love. To understanding the person so much, knowing them better than yourself almost. Love, pure and innocent as it should be.

The Saturday passed and we just talked. It's amazing how a week or two can change two people.

It started on the Sunday. It was a lazy day that we agreed to spend together. It was warm so we ate breakfast and went outside, our new friendship blossoming in the heat, the sun was shinning brightly and a breeze blew gently over the landscape ever so softly now and again making it an almost perfect day. There wasn't hardly anybody around, and it felt like we had the whole castle to ourselves, but then we were so wrapped up in each other that thousands of people could have stormed us and we wouldn't have thrown caution to the wind.

We took shade under some large trees at the edge of the forest, near the lake.

Slumped against the trunk of a tree, bodies touching, sides glued together again, legs spread out, heads lolled back against the bark.

He breathed a sigh, the breath that escaped his beautiful lips grazed across my neck slightly, and amidst the heat, it made me shiver, a joyous feeling spreading all the way down my spine and rippling through my nerves.

His ghostly pale hands were resting dangerously close to my thigh and I ached to be closer, to touch him, and hold him. It hurt to want him so bad. My chest was tight and my brain was exploding, every time our legs brushed, or our fingers touched my skin burst into flames. It hurt to need him so much. It hurt.

And all of a sudden his head was resting on my shoulder, and he was closer. I rested mine atop his and it felt so good. Such a small expression of tenderness sent me soaring. It was such an innocent thing and it made my heart swell. He made me feel complete, like there was something missing before he was there. It was amazing the things that had surfaced since I let myself go, and actually listened to what I felt, instead of telling myself. It was also quite amazing how he made my emotions go insane. The pure selfishness of wanting him all to my self, to hold and be with for forever, and wanting and needing him, it was selfish. But I didn't care.

His soft breath flittered over me as he spoke

"Thank you Harry" His voice just above a whisper as he shuffled toward me more, nuzzling his head into my neck more, making me melt even all over again and making my head spin.

"Thank you?" It was puzzling to know what he ever had to thank me for, if anything I had to thank him. For being so amazing and wonderful, and beautiful, the list was endless.

"Thank you for showing me kindness even when you didn't have to." He words made my heart sink, and my mind to race. I didn't know what to say.

So I didn't.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer and placed a kiss on his forehead.

Sometimes actions speak louder than words.

The day soon slipped into the evening and the sun cast shadows over the lake and over us. We hadn't moved, just sat wrapped in each others arms talking about anything that came to mind.

The fast falling rays danced across the shimmering surface of the water

"It's beautiful" I spoke softly, almost afraid to ruin the atmosphere around us.

He nodded slightly and placed a soft small chaste kiss on my shoulder that made my skin burn and a sigh to escape my lips. And he did it again and again, and my skin got even hotter and hotter and my hand had slipped under the rim of his shirt and it was stroking at his side.

Such a loving touch, and affectionate.

My arms encircled his tiny waste tighter than before, and pulled his body flush to mine, his scent filled the air, rich and sweet, like liquid candy. I tried to memorise it. Taking him in with all my senses, my eyes fluttering over his beautiful body, and my hands mapping it out, his smell was better than any other, and the soft intake, outtake of each breathe soothed my soul.

And in that moment I decided this was forever, and I sealed it with a kiss. Chaste and soft, his lips brushing mine, filled with adore.

I realised he was perfection, in its own broken sort of way.