This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Music by Imogen Heap used as inspiration for this one shot: Goodnight and go

Pretty please R&R! Would love to know what you all think.

I never realized how I felt about Potter, honestly. I thought I hated the teen. I told myself I was following him around, trying to get information for the dark lord. I needed to save my parents from the crazy git. I owed it to them both to look out for them. My life had by no means been great, but it was better than Potters.

By the time I realized my feelings, it was too late. Potter hated me, and I was on the other side, the wrong side, I believed. Even if by some miracle he did want me, we could never act on it. So my schoolgirl crush was doomed to end in one way or another. I must be a masochist though; I craved the attention from him like a star struck teen, or a dog. I followed him around like a puppy, just begging to be kicked in the face. If I had to be honest, I enjoyed any physical attention, it kept me going. If he broke my arm, the memories strayed of his strong arms, his soft yet firm hands. I had it bad.

One day, I was walking in the hall with Pansy. We were on our way to Potions when I saw him. "Draco, are you listening?" She said, breaking my train of thought. This woman must be the most oblivious on the planet. "Yes, Pansy." I said to pacify her, my eyes still watching Potter as he moved past and walked into the classroom. "Really, you need to stop this. He will find out you know." With a jerk, my eyes met hers and for a moment I thought she found out my forbidden secret. But then I realized she was on about my lack of process on the vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement. She noticed that I had not been very fussed about the fact that I had not gotten the thing working. I counted it as a blessing, every extra minute I could have staring at Potter, like I had reason to, was welcome by me. I did not mind admiring the dark haired teen from afar. I was even content knowing that I would never have this other teen, I knew he would never want me, and I could handle that.

I was bored in Potions. I knew my godfather, Severus, would let me get away with anything I wanted, and felt like causing some friction for the golden trio. I used a pretty complex charm that would have made Flitwick proud. I turned a piece of paper into a paper bird, which could fly, and made it fly repeatedly into the back of Potters head. I laughed into my desk, trying to cover myself and pretend to be interested in the lecture. It didn't work, when Potter noticed the bird flying into his head, he tried to shoo it, causing a scene and the whole class was looking in horror, I couldn't help myself, I started canning myself laughing, and fell of the chair. This of course, busted me.

"Potter, Malfoy, detention. Now the rest of you pay attention." Snape snapped turning my paper bird to ash with the wave of his wand. Man Snape could handle a wand, I thought as the others tried to face the front and not glare at me. I didn't mind, I had gotten a good laugh, and maybe I could taunt Potter into throwing a punch at me tonight in detention, it's been a while since the other teen had touched me. Perhaps he was starting to get immune to my taunts or more likely though, he remembered he was a wizard. I had been unlucky a few times when that happened, but it did appear that Potter was more likely to resort to using his wand to poke me in the stomach (no pun intended) then hex me with it. This meant it was usually worth the risk.

I remember the night he caught me crying in the bathroom, I could have asked him for help, I could have just cried. I doubt he would have done anything to me if I hadn't provoked him. I didn't even aim, I just through the killing curse at him. I never meant to kill him, I was scared, vulnerable. I had been trained never to let my guard down, and here I was, crying in front of the enemy. The curse that hit me, it cut through my chest, my blood was seeping out of me, and I knew I was about to die. When Snape arrived, he saved my life. I never believed Potter would have done something like that. I tried to kill him; a voice in my head said to me over and over, why would I not expect the same from him? I didn't expect it, I had no idea. Snape had sat with me in the hospital wings for days, and he said that Potter did not even know what the curse would do to me. But by this point, I no longer blamed him. I had deserved to die that night, and why I haven't, I am still not sure.

The night of my detention arrived sooner than I thought. I could not help at being pleased that I would have a whole night of torturing the brunet until he tackled me to the ground, or pushed me hard against the wall, his hard body pressing me into the rough stone, his hands on my robes, pulling them off, then his mouth, his warm mouth caressing mine… "Mr Malfoy, you are late." Severus said to me from behind his desk, I had already reached his office, and Potter was already inside. I suppose that Sev needed to maintain appearances, although I know he would let me off east. It was just a harmless little prank after all, and I am his star pupil.

"Potter, you will be scrubbing cauldron's, and Malfoy you will organize my potions ingredients alphabetically." Snape said with a tone that bade no disobedience, and I was very disappointed that I would not be in the same place as Potter, to give him hell.

I stalked off despondent with a quick: "Yes sir." I tried to keep my mask up, I truly did, but for one second, just one, I could have sworn Potter was considering me with the same expression I just had. While I was doing the sorting, which was a very tedious and mundane job for someone with my talent, I considered the next morning, after what happened in Moaning Murtle's bathroom. I had once heard that Potter had made a Pollyjuice Potion in that same bathroom. That would explain the incident with Crabbe and Goyle acting strangely and asking me if I was the heir of Slytherin, I supposed they could have not believed me, why did they have any reason too? I had told them a million times I had no idea who did it, thank heaven nobody knew that I was a parselmouth, same as Potter. Nobody would have left me alone then, I had known I had this gift since an early age, but not even the dark lord knew the secret talent I possessed.

Anyway, back to the day in the hospital wing, I am getting distracted. I was sure I heard something, perhaps the dark lord sent someone to murder me out of his own embarrassment. I sat up and looked around, but I could see nobody in the room. The door was open, Severus had left it open for me to be able to see into the hallway. Before I could grab my wand, the figure appeared from under a cloak, it was Potter. "Wait, please. Hear me out." He begged, and I let my wand move from him, still tight in my grip. My body was tensing for a fight, remembering how this other person had been witness to my recent failure. But he did not appear to be here to gloat, as I would have expected, so I had no idea what the black haired teen was doing.

Potter looked scared, vulnerable, and maybe even a bit sad. "What do you want Potter?" I said to cover the silence that was filling the room.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea that curse could have killed you." He said sincerely, or well, so he appeared. I shook my head at the odd situation, I had, after all, being trying to kill him, and he thought that it was deliberately. The way Potter stared at me, made my heart contract, I could not believe the genuine care that he showed me, his own enemy. "I don't care if you believe that, but I had to tell you." Potter continued and I realized he thought that I did not believe his confession.

It was easy to believe he never meant to hurt me. He was the hero after all; he couldn't want to hurt anyone. Not even a Death Eater scum like me. "I didn't mean… I believe you." I said instead. I couldn't let on how much this confession of his did for my ego. He couldn't truly hate me; he didn't want me dead after all. He must have known the side I was on, but not once did he look at me with fear or hatred, that day, it was only compassion.

After the night's detention, I was frustrated, so I used a glamour and stalked back to the Potions classroom, not far from where my own detention was. I was done faster than others would have been, because I was rather skilled with Potions. I would have loved to believe I was the best, but I still had a bit to learn, although I may be the best student in Potions that is currently at Hogwarts, at the very least. After Potter finished, mumbling my name the entire time, he stalked off. I thought he was heading towards their common room, but he changed direction and went into the prefects' bathroom. My heart was beating so loud, I was worried he would hear me, as I followed him into the bathroom.

I was also a prefect. I could have gotten in. But I wanted to know what Potter was doing this late, and I knew he would never tell me if I asked him. Who am I kidding? He would hex me just seeing me after 12 in the prefects' bathroom. I was shocked when Potter opened the taps, filling the bath with rainbow coloured bubbles.

I could feel my cock get hard beneath my robes, when Potter's own fell to the ground. All he was wearing underneath was a loose fitting boxer. I could see his chest, with the trail of hair running down the middle of his stomach, and I wished I could see where it leads. I saw his strong, muscular legs, and my body reacted even more at the thought of those legs rapping around my waist. Then my attention was captured by Potter's cock. I could not even see it yet, but I was sure it was a monster; it seemed that Potter was aroused. When he pulled the boxer down, I heard a soft moan, and I assumed his sensitive cock had brushed against the material as he pulled it down.

Potter laid a towel near the bath, and with a sigh he lowered himself into the hot water. I could see his erection peering out from under the water, as he sat down on one of the steps. It was the most amazing cock I had ever seen, and I was rather well- endowed myself. Potter took some of the bubbles into his hands, and rubbed them together, creating a soapy layer on his hands, before putting both his strong hands around his sizable erection. It felt dirty to watch, but I couldn't stop. I cast a wordless silencing spell on myself, before slipping my own hands into my pants, one playing with my balls, the other teasing my erection. I never took my eyes off him.

One of his hands went up to pinch his left nipple, then the right, and he moaned wantonly, his eyes closed in ecstasy. I couldn't help but wonder of the images he thought of while he wanked. To my horror, Potter spoke in parslemouth. This was something I found terribly erotic, it was a sigh of his power as a wizard, and it helped that I could understand what he was saying. "Oooh, fuck yes." Potter moaned in parslemouth. "Yes, more, harder."

Potter sure seemed to be intent on keeping the person of his fantasy a secret, I thought for a moment before I just lost myself in the movements of his hands and the sexy sounds of his hissing profanities. When Potter came with a shout of "Draco!", I thought for a second I was busted, but hearing my name on the other teens lips, triggered my own orgasm, and I shuddered as I came into my hands.

Then I noticed his eyes where still closed, and the reality that he in fact had come thinking about me dawned. It was wonderful and horrible at the same time. I felt sickened that I had become so deprived that I was watching a Gryffindor wanking in the middle of the night, and got off on it. But in some place in my heart I felt happy, that I was not the only one who felt something between the two of us. Realistically, being a Slytherin, this did not make any difference. I could not have this teen, no matter if he wanted me in return, but he wanted me. On some cardinal level I had gotten to Potter. Suddenly, the horror overwhelmed me, he came thinking about me, and like a coward I turned and ran out the bathroom, probably making a racket as I opened the door, and sped down the hallway. I was seeking the safety of my bedroom, my common room. I reached Slytherin house, and I broke down again. Once again my tears were streaming down my face and I wished I could die. This pain inside my chest, felling like I was being ripped to pieces, then I realized, this was what a broken heart must feel like, being denied the one thing I wanted more than anything else in the world, Harry Potter.

Somewhere, back in the prefects' bathroom, Harry looked up after he came, and saw the dishevelled figure of none other than Draco Malfoy, running from the bathroom, like the devil was chasing him. "At least one good thing could come from this." Harry said out loud to himself and let out a despondent sigh. "He will stop following me around now, and perhaps, maybe he will even ignore me."