Title: Never Mine
Pairing:DM/HP
Warning: Not much. Implied things.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling - I'm not making any money.

It wasn't always like this.

He used to at least look into my eyes, make a sound, scream a name. Even if that name was never mine, it let me know he was feeling something. Now all I have are the involuntary thrusts and shivers his body gives, and his inevitable, yet still far off, relase.

He used to at least pretend I was someone, like he could actually lust, care, want me. He used to kiss me gently, for so long, before this. He used to hold me after this. There used to be so much more.

One night I think he almost said he loved what we were doing, or me, or something. He didn't finish the sentence.

I didn't press him about it, because as I realized later that night, I was confused as to how I felt about it all, I wouldn't have been ready to hear what he had to say.

What were we doing? People who were in love did this, hormonal teenagers with no self control did this, not us. Yet we still did. What does that make us?

I know every curve of his body. I know what every spasm means. I know how to touch him in all the right places. I know how to bring him there better then anyone else, and better then anyone ever will.

He pants, flutters his eyes shut, makes that beautiful face I see so often, but will never fully know as mine. I want to tell him what I feel when I see it. I think of how happy I've made him, how amazing it is to have him there, with me, because of me, for me, but I'm afraid of how he'd respond-if he'd respond at all.

He's done. He cleans up with a quick spell, zippers his pants, buttons his shirt, replaces his robes and goes. As I'm dressing all I can concentrate on is trying not to cry. Why I don't know-I've never felt this way before and the emotion is hard to place.

"Malfoy..." I hear him say, now at least twenty paces away. "This was the last time."

This is it? Never again? I can't even be taunted with what I want any longer?

He hisses something else in parseltongue. He's never done that before. Not like this, not after that.

Harry Potter walks back into the castle tearing, sure that Draco Malfoy will never know how he feels, even though he's told him.