A/N: Hi, guys! This is a story I wrote for a contest. It was my first time writing a Drarry story, but it was super fun to write. I hope you guys like it! I wanna thank my wonderful Beta, Rina (aka iNiGmA), who's an amazing writer here, for helping me make this story even better. As you guys already know, any comments, critiques or concerns, feel free to contact me.

THE TWELVE DAYS OF DRARRY

December 25th, 1996

"On the first day of Christmas, Harry gave to me… another thing my father can't hear."

Apparently, he wasn't planning on staying here for the holidays, but I think he wants to spy on me. I wasn't planning on it either. In fact, I sort of wish I could just go away and leave it all behind.

The mark on my arm never ceases to burn, taking my mind away from what I actually want to think about and into things that hurt and break my heart. Sometimes, I can't believe that I used to think I was so fortunate and invincible and flawless. Today I just wish things could be different.

He follows me around the castle whenever he thinks I'm doing something suspicious. I wish I was more discrete, but sometimes I like to hear his footsteps – so quiet and so sure of their purpose, and yet still so obvious – trailing just behind mine. I turn into different corridors and hide behind random doors, until all I hear is silence. I find myself biting my bottom lip every time it happens and hating him for making me feel so vulnerable.

I flash stares in his direction during the Christmas feast, but he doesn't seem to notice. For someone who's so eagerly trying to discover what I'm up to, he doesn't seem to bother when his friends are around. My friends notice nothing, of course, and I feel thankful for their absentmindedness. I don't want them to see that I'm trying to figure out just how many shades of green are layered within his emerald eyes.

December 26th, 1996

"On the second day of Christmas, Harry gave to me… two hurtful secrets, and another thing my father can't hear."

It hurts when he's not around. I want him to look at me, even if it's with disapproving eyes. He knows I'm hiding something… but I don't think he knows the extent of my secrets.

It's okay.

No one knows.

I don't even remember how it all began – probably when we were eleven, and I thought I was too cool for school and didn't really understand the magnitude of my choices. Sometimes, I wish I hadn't been a complete idiot to Weasley, because if I hadn't then maybe things could've been different today. How could I know that they'd turn out to be best friends? Inseparable?

They're probably together now… in the Gryffindor common room… doing whatever it is that they do when they're together. Perhaps playing Wizard's Chess or eating Chocolate Frogs or even saying nasty things about me. I'm not sure if I even care if they're saying bad things about me, as long as my name is on his lips.

December 27th, 1996

"On the third day of Christmas, Harry gave to me… three daydreams, two hurtful secrets, and another thing my father can't hear."

The snow is getting thicker and the wind is so cold that everyone is hidden inside their common rooms. It's so lonely in here that I can almost hear my thoughts echoing around me. Pansy and Millicent have gone home for the holidays… and so have Crabbe and Goyle. There's not much I can do by myself, aside from staring at the flames crepitating in the fireplace and wishing he was here with me.

There are moments in which I hate myself for being a Slytherin. I wonder what my parents would say if they ever knew that sometimes I wish I were a Gryffindor. That sometimes I wish people wouldn't look at me as the purest of evils… That I dream of being in the Gryffindor common room, so that I could be near him all the time. But then again, even if I was a Gryffindor, would he even like me at all?

Random daydreams flit through my head as I watch the dance of the flames; first, a snowy day just like this one… and we are both Gryffindors… and we go outside to have a snowball war. I giggle at my own silliness and feel my cheeks burning. My mind shifts the image into a different scenario; in which I'm still a Slytherin and he's still a Gryffindor, but he sneaks into my common room, and the silence remains unbroken… only now the loneliness is gone. We sit before the fireplace in companionable silence – and my life feels complete. The scene dissolves. Another image bursts into bloom before me: a different life in a different time… where I'd have the courage to just tell him how I feel.

Then again, these are just daydreams.

December 28th, 1996

"On the fourth day of Christmas, Harry gave to me… four reasons to smile, three daydreams, two hurtful secrets, and another thing my father can't hear."

He looked at me today.

Not with happiness, not with curiosity, and not at all with passion. Those feelings were only in my eyes, not in his. Instead, those emeralds were purely filled with suspicion – though, at this particular moment, I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was simply taking a walk to unwind my mind – as I always do when his presence grows too large and takes up too much space in my head.

He doesn't know, of course. He's just… whatever – so oblivious to what I'm feeling and, I think, so are his friends. I doubt it would ever cross Weasley's or Granger's minds that I could feel something for their dear friend. That's why he walks by me without knowing that I have a secret agenda when it comes to those soft lips.

I glance back, feeling my heart leaping like an unhinged Chocolate Frog, wishing he'd look back at me, and I lose my breath when he does. It's an intense and almost angry stare, but I don't care. I try my best to sustain those eyes, and when I break contact and continue down my path, there's a misty smile on my face.

There's a spark of gratitude in my heart, even if it's somewhat buried in despair. I'm glad that I was assigned this mission, because now he has more reasons to look at me, and I have more time to be around him as well. It's a woeful thing to be thankful for, because I understand the consequences. He'll probably hate me when everything is over, but I'll enjoy these smiles and sweet little secrets until the very end.

December 29th, 1996

"On the fifth day of Christmas, Harry gave to me… five reasons to hate myself, four reasons to smile, three daydreams, two hurtful secrets, and another thing my father can't hear."

Just a few more days and this year will finally be over. I close my eyes, resting on the dark green sofa of Slytherin common room – tired of all the times I have to look at him with false anger or disgust. It's exhausting to pretend all the time, and though I know that next year won't be any different, just the promise of more time in his presence is enough to soothe my soul.

My eyes open to the dark ceiling and I clench my jaw, wondering how much more he'll despise me when I'm through with my unwanted plans. It's strange how I can't seem to relax even when I'm thinking about him. There're always reasons to be resentful, always reasons to hate myself even more than he's even capable of hating me.

I hate that I'm a Slytherin. And I hate that I was so arrogant. I hate that I'm such a coward… and even more than that, I hate that I can't be with him. More than everything, I hate that.

And I hate that I can't just tell him that I want him.

December 30th, 1996

"On the sixth day of Christmas, Harry gave to me… six things I'd like to say, five reasons to hate myself, four reasons to smile, three daydreams, two hurtful secrets, and another thing my father can't hear."

I took a stroll around to castle in hopes of bumping into him, but I think he's in his common room. I even walked to Gryffindor Tower but went away before anyone could see me. Not that I could just knock on the door or something, because it's the Fat Lady that guards their tower. I suppose I could just yell his name, but that would be twice as mortifying.

I wonder what I would even say if I grew the courage to talk to him. I'd probably mumble and stutter and eventually give up, leaving him with nothing but confusion and another reason to think I'm peculiar.

Once again, I find myself sitting in front of the fireplace, but this time I have a piece of parchment and my quill. I start to list things I could say, but they end up looking so awfully pathetic that I throw the list into the fire. I watch it burn as I blame myself for allowing this to happen. I can't believe I'm waltzing around the castle hoping to lay eyes on him and making stupid lists whilst thinking about those stupidly gorgeous eyes.

I wish I could tell him that I've fallen for him from the very beginning. I wish I could say that he's the reason for my sleepless nights. I wish I had the courage to confess that I hate the Dark Lord for wanting to hurt him. I wish I could just walk up to him and profess that I'd do anything for him. I wish that I could tell him that I don't care if he doesn't love me back as long as he's safe and happy.

It hurts that I can't just confess that I'm terribly, completely, and utterly in love with him.

December 31st, 1996

"On the seventh day of Christmas, Harry gave to me… seven shades of green, six things I'd like to say, five reasons to hate myself, four reasons to smile, three daydreams, two hurtful secrets, and another thing my father can't hear."

He talked to me today. I don't think I have ever felt this airheaded. Not even when that stupid hippogriff hurt my arm and he had to help me in Potions class. I blush at the thought of that day and want to kick myself for being such a drama queen. That's one more reason for him to think I'm awful.

I was at the Owlery. No reason whatsoever, because I had no letters to send, but I actually enjoy the view from that tower. The place was rather empty, mainly because a lot of the other kids took their owls home for the holidays, but his snowy owl was still there, all pompous and intimidating, staring at me with disapproving eyes.

I confess I wasn't expecting to bump into him. I was just leaving the place when he came in. He held my arm when I tottered, but immediately withdrew his hand when he saw it was me. His absurdly green eyes looked deep into mine and I found myself breathless. I could spot seven different strands of green in those irises and it made me feel extremely nervous. I wanted so badly to say something clever and intriguing, but I could only hiss his surname: Potter.

He walked past me and headed straight to his owl, ready to send his mail, but I couldn't move. I just stood there by the entrance, and when he noticed I hadn't left, he just stared at me and said: What do you want, Malfoy? Just the sound of my name on his lips made it sound like a melody and my cheeks got all hot and red. I don't think he noticed, because he only snorted and sent his owl away.

January 1st, 1997

"On the eight day of Christmas, Harry gave to me… eight powerful spells, seven shades of green, six things I'd like to say, five reasons to hate myself, four reasons to smile, three daydreams, two hurtful secrets, and another thing my father can't hear."

Perhaps my luck is about to change with the turning of the year. Perhaps things can actually be different and there is hope for a happy ending after all. Perhaps I'm just being silly, and I suppose I should take a cold shower.

I went to the library, even though I had no plans to study or work on any homework. I just wanted to find a good book to entertain myself with and ended up doing something stupid that actually led to something good.

I was taking a look at a book about defensive spells when he walked in. I watched him return a few books to Madam Pince and then disappear between two shelves. Of course, as the silly little weasel that I apparently am, I decided it was a good idea to just go there and annoy him.

He didn't see me coming. He was concentrating, staring at a thick book, when I just snatched it out of his hands. He turned around, and when he saw it was me he glared at me with extreme irritation. I didn't care though, and when he tried to grab the book back, I pulled it out of his reach. We're almost the same height, so his hand almost reached the book, but I stood on my toes to become taller than him.

I didn't expect him to stare me with such intensity, and the sight of those stupid seven-shades-of-gorgeous-green eyes made me blush furiously. I found my eyes drifting from his eyes to his lips, and my guts made an uncomfortable pirouette when I saw that he realized I was analysing him, and he started staring at my lips as well – which trembled slightly beneath his gaze. I had only wanted to annoy him, not to obviously announce my true intentions.

Things changed when I noticed he started blushing too. His face relaxed and he just looked at me. Not with anger and not with disgust, but he rather looked quite intrigued and slightly confused. I wasn't surprised when he unceremoniously turned around and left, leaving me baffled and alone, with my heart pounding painfully against my ribs, and his book still clutched in my hand.

I took several deep breaths, holding the book he had wanted against my chest, and finally relaxed enough to look at the cover.

Eight Powerful Spells to Uncover Lies, Secrets, and Traps.

Oh, my dearest. I don't think this is the kind of secret you can uncover with a spell.

January 2nd, 1997

"On the ninth day of Christmas, Harry gave to me… nine different ways to style my hair, eight powerful spells, seven shades of green, six things I'd like to say, five reasons to hate myself, four reasons to smile, three daydreams, two hurtful secrets, and another thing my father can't hear."

Just a few more days until everyone returns to this forsaken castle. I'm beginning to enjoy the solitude of this dark common room and I'm not actually eager to see Crabbe's and Goyle's ugly faces again.

I ended up burning another piece of parchment, but this time it was because it had his name written over and over again. I don't know why I did it, because I was distractedly remembering our moment in the library, but when I realized what I was doing, I had already written his name almost fifty times. It made me feel incredibly stupid because I know he'll never look at me differently; however, for some reason, I ended up fixing my hair nine times until I was finally satisfied with the way I looked… and deep down I wished I could bump into him so that he could acknowledge it. It made me feel a little ridiculous, but I ignored the feeling and left my common room.

I walked all over the castle before accepting that I wouldn't meet him. I was just thinking about giving up when I looked through a window to see him talking a stroll with Weasley and Granger. I clenched my jaw, wishing those two could just disappear, and perhaps then I could find a little more courage to talk to him, but that's not what happened. They continued to walk through the snow, laughing and playing, until I couldn't take it anymore.

I head to the Room of Requirement to work on that stupid cabinet but end up just spending an hour in there without doing anything. When I finally decide to head back, I meet him just as I'm leaving the seventh floor. We step onto the same staircase and it starts to move before he can get away. He looks at me, looking very uncomfortable, and I find myself blushing again.

Potter, I say, feeling my heart racing.

Malfoy, he replies, then adds: Your hair looks weird.

The staircase grinds to a halt and he jumps off it hurriedly and darts upstairs without a second glance, leaving me standing quite still with my ridiculous hairdo, and an aching heart.

January 3rd, 1997

"On the tenth day of Christmas, Harry gave to me… ten butterflies in my stomach, nine different ways to style my hair, eight powerful spells, seven shades of green, six things I'd like to say, five reasons to hate myself, four reasons to smile, three daydreams, two hurtful secrets, and another thing my father can't hear."

Father sent me a letter today. His handwriting is all crooked and he sounds extremely scared. There are so many things that are about to change and I don't know if I have the guts to deal with it all.

I've been working on that cabinet for the past several months and I know what's in store for me if I don't succeed with this suicide mission that was assigned to me so heartlessly. And if I do, I know I'll be the reason for this castle's ruin, and my name will be the synonymous with treason. And worst of all, I know I'll never see his green eyes again.

My heart is breaking as I walk around the castle in a daze, and I know it's only a matter of time before I burst into tears. I've never enjoyed crying, but I think I'm reaching the edge. I go to the only place I know I won't be disturbed: that stupid's ghost bathroom. I rest my hands on the sides of the sink, staring at my reflection in the stained mirror. My greyish eyes are red and they don't have the depth and glow of those stupid emeralds. My lips tremble as I try not to cry, but it's impossible not to succumb.

To my complete shock, someone enters the bathroom and I swallow my sobs, turning around abruptly, only to find him there, staring at me from the doorway. I instinctively reach for my wand, but he manages to deflect all my angry spells. I even try to cast the Cruciatus Curse, but I don't really want to hurt him so only a pale shadow of fading light bursts forth from my wand. We exchange wand fire, breaking the sink and the tiles around us. Water starts to stream through the broken pipes, flooding the floor and making it harder to walk.

He deflects all my spells and, just as I'm about to cast another one, he hits me with a curse that makes me fall to the ground. My wand flies from my hand as I collapse onto the wet, broken tiles. I watch him advance on me as he raises his wand to take aim, and from where I'm lying, I can see how the water casts flickering reflections across his round glasses. I clench my jaw, preparing to be hit with another spell, but he puts his wand away and offers me his hand.

I try not to look baffled, but it's almost impossible. I accept his hand, feeling waves of shock course through me when my skin touches his, but when I'm finally on my feet he unfortunately let go.

Are you all right?

That's what he asks me, looking genuinely concerned. I look away, hating myself for showing my vulnerability. When I look back at him, he's actually smiling.

What's so funny, Potter?

I try not to hiss, but I think I'm becoming a snake after all. He blinks at me and says: Not an easy start to the year, eh?

I shake my head, wondering why he's so worried about me, when he suddenly rests his hand on my shoulder.

Saying that I felt chills running all through my body would be a huge understatement – and just a slice of what he made me feel with that simple touch. My heart started racing, my cheeks turned red, and my legs felt like gelatine.

I glance at him, wondering if he'd catch me if I stumble, but I'm not bold enough to put it to the test.

Thank you… Harry.

I want to kick myself for saying his name, but what he does next makes my mind go entirely blank: he winks. My heart stops for a moment and he adds: Anytime… Draco.

He turns around to leave but when he's almost reached the doorway, he looks back. I try my best not to look wonderstruck, but I don't think I manage.

You're up to something, aren't you? That's what he says, making me experience awful butterflies.

I'm always up to something, I say, and he flashes me a smile before disappearing through the door.

I slowly count to ten, until I feel myself relax, and then I leave the bathroom.

January 4th, 1997

"On the eleventh day of Christmas, Harry gave to me... eleven waves of shock, ten butterflies in my stomach, nine different ways to style my hair, eight powerful spells, seven shades of green, six things I'd like to say, five reasons to hate myself, four reasons to smile, three daydreams, two hurtful secrets, and another thing my father can't hear."

I dreamed about him all night long and woke up feeling embarrassed, but with my heart a lot lighter. The sensation of his hand on my shoulder continues to burn, even when I go out into the frigid winter air and stroll around the Quidditch pitch.

There's a lot of fresh snow on the ground, which leads me to believe that there was a snowstorm during the night, but I didn't see it because I was too busy dreaming about him. Why does he have to be so handsome and charming and annoyingly attractive? I kick a stack of snow as I make my way to the bleachers.

The air is crisp, and the sky is clear, and the only sound I hear is my own breathing as it turns to vapor before my eyes. I look at my hand, remembering how it felt when he held it, and allow my mind to fly far away from Hogwarts and venture to alternate universes where he could love me back.

Your hair looks normal today.

My heart almost jumps out off my chest when I hear his voice. I stand up so fast that I stumble against the seats and almost fall, but he reaches out to catch me. My cheeks burn so much that I'm aware I probably look like a giant blonde tomato.

Are you out of your mind, Potter? I hiss. Don't just lurk in the shadows like that!

He actually giggles and I clench my jaw to avoid smiling.

I wasn't lurking. I've been standing here for a while, you were just too distracted to see me, he tells me.

And why are you even here? I ask him, feeling waves of nervousness wash over me.

I saw you from the castle and came to see if you were okay, he says with a comforting smile.

I'm fine, I grumble.

I sit down, looking away from him as I entwine my fingers so he can't tell that I'm not just shaking because of the cold.

Here, he tells me, throwing his Gryffindor scarf around my neck. The suddenness of his scent makes me freeze. He smells of fresh cologne and something distinctly Gryffindor, and it takes all of me to not just collapse into his arms.

I'm not cold, I mumble, looking up into his beautiful green eyes, aware that I won't be able to hide my feelings much longer.

You make flirting very hard, you know, he says, and I swallow hard, wondering if I heard correctly, trying to suppress the butterflies that are trying to escape from my guts.

I beg your pardon? I say, very much aware that I'm probably shaking.

His eyes betray nothing. He simply stands there, steady against the winter wind, looking all handsome, staring at me as if he's just announced that he's the Chosen One or something. I blink a few times to make sure I'm awake and not still dreaming. The corners of his lips curl upward in a smile, making me blush even more. Well, that was awkward enough, he says. See you later, Draco.

January 5th, 1997

"On the twelfth day of Christmas, Harry gave to me…twelve days of hope, eleven waves of shock, ten butterflies in my stomach, nine different ways to style my hair, eight powerful spells, seven shades of green, six things I'd like to say, five reasons to hate myself, four reasons to smile, three daydreams, two hurtful secrets, and another thing my father can't hear."

He did it on purpose.

He told me those words and then left, because he knew I'd be too shocked to say anything. And now I can't seem to find him anywhere in this freaking enormous castle. It is so entirely like him to just surprise people with his charms and stuff and then pretend he's all humble and shy. I really want to punch him right now.

I'm still wearing his stupid scarf as I stomp through the corridors, walking under decorated windows still hung with mistletoe that hasn't been removed yet. Everything still looks so Christmassy and full of holiday spirit and I'm feeling so anxious that I almost hex a suit of armour that's wearing Santa's hat.

Everyone will come back tomorrow and soon this castle will be flooded with people and I'll lose my chance to talk to him. I don't want to risk saying what I'm planning to say with a crowd nearby, but I can't seem to find him anywhere. Invading his common room is out of the question and flying my broom to his window also sounds a bit extreme.

Argh, I curse the day that four-eyed gnome came to this castle! I mumble, absently kicking a rock as I walk around the Greenhouses.

Four-eyed gnome, huh?

His voice startles me, and I turn around to meet his impressively gorgeous green eyes. He has an amused smile on his lips and I feel shivers running down my spine. I don't know if it's the frigid winter air or the awareness that I'm standing right in front of him – wearing his scarf and suddenly remembering all the inappropriate dreams I've had about him.

Here, I say, taking off the scarf and handing it to him. He grasps both my hands along with the scarf.

Keep it, he tells me. It suits you.

I blush furiously and try to pull my hands away, but he tightens his grip. I'm not a Gryffindor, I say.

I know, he tells me. That's unfortunate. It'd be nice to have you around.

My heart beats faster with every word that leaves his lips. But you were sorted into Slytherin, he continues. Maybe that's for the best. I don't believe I'd like to share my bedroom with you.

I blush even more. Why's that, Potter? I ask, trying not to stutter, and he smirks.

You'd probably try to murder me in my sleep.

I roll my eyes, trying not to show that I actually think he's funny. His smirk doesn't fade, making me feel even more nervous. I pull my hands away abruptly, stepping away from him. I watch him put his scarf back on as I wonder if this is all some sort of joke. Maybe he and his little friends are up to something, trying to make me look like a fool.

What are you up to, Potter? My blood is starting to boil with the single thought that he might be making fun of me. He looks at me, his expression quite baffled.

What do you mean?

I turn around and snort. That thing with the scarf and pretending you care and stuff. Stop mocking me!

I cross my arms, wondering if I should hex him, when I feel his hand touching my arm. I turn around and see him looking at me with concern. What's going on, Draco?

I push him away. What's going on with you! I reply. Why are you calling me by my first name and… and being all worried… and why are you looking at me like that?

He blinks at me, confused. Looking like what? he says blankly, and I step away, catching my breath.

Like you care or something, I say nervously.

He takes a few steps forward and stops right in front of me. His face is serious. Beautiful. Sincere. I do care, he says. Honestly.

My mind is a flurry of thoughts. But how can you care? I cry. We've been sworn enemies for years!

After I say it, he looks at me and lets out a short, beautiful laugh. Draco, will you forget about that? We were just kids.

I roll my eyes. Yeah, well, in case you've forgotten, we're on different sides. It's not like we can just start being friends or anything.

He looks at me and smirks. Yeah, I don't think we can. I don't want to be your friend anyway.

His words hit me like a curse. I find myself frowning, closing my hands in fists and feeling extremely irritated. He is, in fact, making fun of me. I whirl around, ready to leave, when I feel his arms closing around me. My world stops for a moment when he rests his chin on my shoulder, and I can feel the warm, rough, skin of his cheek against mine.

I don't want to be your friend, he tells me.

And somehow, I know just what he's going to say next. I whisper it too:

I want to be much more.

A/N: I hope you liked it! Don't forget to leave a review. I'll love to know your opinion!