This was written for a challenge. Draco Malfoy in 1000 words so by omitting the A/N it is 1000 words exact. Quite tricky to be honest. Lets see if this breaks this horrible writer's block.

Haughty. Arrogant.

You always were. From the very first time we met, your pride had been evident in the tilt of your chin, as plain as the smirk on your face. It had saluted me before you even opened your mouth. It was obvious. You were proud of your family, of your wealth and lineage. It made you feel vastly superior to others.

Odd, that I should now admire the things that I found intolerable. Over a decade later and in a very different world, I found it…familiar.

You were no longer in a favorable standing with wizarding society. We both knew it. Everything you prided was gone. You were barely making ends meet. You couldn't seem to shake your past and the public's memory was sharp and deadly.

Yet you still managed to turn your nose up at me in disgust when I offered to treat you to a meal.

"Do I look like I'm in need of your charity?"

I still remember the indignant look on your face at the audacity of my offer. I hadn't intended any harm by it. I merely wanted to lay the past to rest.

Temperamental. Easily angered.

I had always known you to be somewhat aggressive. You never missed a chance for confrontation. I never looked past it or into it too deeply. It was much simpler to accept it as just the prat in you.

We had a civil conversation over drinks one evening and I have to admit, it was probably the most relaxed I'd seen you.

You even laughed a few times. You were as surprised as I was, that we were enjoying each other's company. The beginning of our friendship reminds me of the dawn, slowly and serenely giving way to a bright new day. Something different.

Past prejudices seemed to be melting away.

But part of you still hated me. And I still found you to be spoiled and annoying. Bringing up school memories was what ruined our night. One moment we were laughing, the next you were recalling when I hurt you in sixth year – unintentionally I plead – and began throwing punches anywhere on my body that I couldn't protect fast enough.

The rage distorted your fine features, your hair sweaty clumps in your face. I knew you should be angry so I let you be.

.Fragile.

I suppose it came as a surprise that you weren't in fact a moving stone statue with a heart of stone. I know this sounds cruel, but I had honestly never believed you could make such a face.

I opened my door to find you standing there, barely holding yourself up. There was something strange about your face but I couldn't quite put a finger on it. As soon as you were through the door I knew something was wrong. The way your shoulders sagged, spoke of the weight that settled on them.

I wasn't ready to catch you when you crumpled. Could you blame me? Something that out of the ordinary paralyzed me.

Tears running unashamedly down you cheeks, lips quivering and snotty like a child. Howling, you pressed you face into my shoulder and held on to me as one would a lifeline: tightly, afraid to let go. Your mother had passed away. The last person you felt you had. Your father had been subjected to the Dementor's kiss years before. When I thought about it, I wondered who you leaned on…before me…

That you would fall apart in front of me of all people honestly shocked me. You chose me. You felt comfortable enough with me. The hatred had dissipated. And I'll tell you this now because I never did to your face: it made me feel special.

I knew then.

Sultry. Alluring. Seductive.

I don't know why I'd accepted your invitation for dinner at your mansion. She was waiting for me. I lied to her about having to work late. I chose you.

I didn't know why.

It was nice enough. You were healing. I was glad to see tiny smiles you offered me, though your eyes were puffy. We were drinking heavily – I having followed you against my better judgment – but it made for an easier atmosphere and I could get closer to you.

As I listened to you ramble it gave me an excuse to look at you. I'd always known that you were good looking. There's no denying your good genes but that night I felt a different kind of appreciation for your high cheekbones, sleek golden hair and slate eyes, shining in the soft candle light.
The acknowledgement of something captivating. Something I wanted.

You caught me staring. I would've thought you would sneer or have been utterly disgusted by my behavior. I couldn't hide it any longer.

You surprised me yet again when you kissed me. Obscene. Erotic. I could safely say no one had ever made me feel that way before. No one had ever caused such a reaction in me. I could never be without you again.

Sulky. Lonely.

I noticed your mood changed on certain days. When it was time for me to leave you'd always throw you bare leg over mine, persuading me to stay with the smooth skin of your thigh. You'd never ask. I knew without you having to, but I teased you. I left anyway.

You still refused to ask. I'd come back early just to see you curled in a corner. If I touched your face you would slap my hand away, livid. But you'd always find a way to end up by my side, resting your head on my chest, glad for the company.

Those were the best days of my life.

As I'm writing this I can see the tears you'll shed when you eventually read it.

I didn't want to go without answering the question I couldn't at that time.

What did I love about you? Everything that you are. Your many faces. I loved you.

Yours sincerely.