Right people. This is my first ever bit of fan-fiction, so bear with me. Details:
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warnings: Slash, nothing major or explicit.
Summary: Draco doesn't know what's changed, but he does know it has something to do with Harry Potter. The other boy has always been his enemy, so why does he feel so strangely for him. Draco will deny all feeling until he has but a moment left...
Other: These boys and any other mentioned characters belong to J.K.Rowling and her associates, however the plot is all mine! The song lyrics used which are later shown in italics are from the song 'If You're Not The One' by Daniel Bedingfield, a song I love.
AN: This is my little slash fanfic and it's my first, so be nice. PS, has anyone seen the new film? Draco looks so hot and sophisticated in his brief appearances and Dan Radcliffe has grown up!
Luv, L-P-M-B, xxx
If You're Not the One
Draco Malfoy knew without a doubt that Harry Potter was his enemy. His father said it, his friends said it, everybody said it, so of course it had to be true. They had always been enemies, that's just the way it was. But, he went back in sixth year and it was so confusing suddenly, nothing made sense and nothing was concrete anymore.
So when had everything changed….?
If you're not the one then why does my soul feel glad today?
Draco slid out of the compartment on the train and smirked at a couple of gawking girls and savoured the whispers he heard in reference to himself and the dramatic changes he had over-gone during the summer.
It seemed that a few inches more on his height, a little more muscle and a new haircut made all the difference, because every person he encountered had stared. Sure, people had stared at him before, he was cute then and he wouldn't deny that, but now, he knew they had every right to stare. He was the epitome of gorgeous now and he damn well knew it. He was a Malfoy after all. Malfoys are always a little self centred - okay, he'd admit, they were very self-centred, but when you were as close to perfect as mortals get, then hell, you could be as egotistical as you wanted.
Anyway, he was getting off the train and did not want to deal with anything further, Crabbe was ill and Goyle had been depending on him for a lift to the station, so Draco was without henchmen, a disconcerting feeling, especially when he was so used to the protection of the two lumbering gorillas that had always accompanied him. Their absence had left him just a little annoyed.
He stood on the Hogsmeade platform and looked about himself, just turning at the right moment to see a laughing trio climb down out of the Hogwarts Express. It was Weasley, Granger and bloody Potter.
He didn't know what it was that made him do so, but he found himself looking rather intently at Potter who had also changed a little it seemed. The green eyed boy had grown into himself a little, got very slightly taller and gained a certain more adult look to him that he'd never had before, to be honest, Potter looked rather attractive. Draco frowned. I did not just call Potter attractive, not even in my head he said mentally, feeling worried and disgusted. No way I find Potter attractive, no way in hell.
He continued to stare at Potter, somehow not realising what he was doing. The dark haired boy glanced up, mid laugh and their eyes met. Potter's laughter died on his lips and he muttered something to Weasley who snorted in a most ungainly and common manner, making Draco snap to attention and look away.
He caught a glimpse of Potter laughing again with his friends and felt an odd lightness to him, somewhere deep inside where he dared not venture too close, it was a warm, glowing feeling, it felt good. A half smile drifted onto his features, lingering for a long while afterwards, but when he noticed it's presence, he banished it harshly, angry at himself for his inner confusion.
If you're not the one then why does my hand fit yours this way?
Draco walked with Blaise down a corridor, smirking and talking about various inconsequential matters. He heard a commotion on the staircase ahead and arched a slim, delicate, pale eyebrow at Blaise who shrugged.
They walked a little more briskly, coming to a flight of stairs, at the top of which they had their next class. He could see the Weasley twins being reprimanded by an indignant looking Professor Flitwick at the top of the aforementioned stairs and lowered his gaze, surveying the scene before him. The twins had blown a hole in the staircase, leaving a sizeable chasm which help was needed to cross. Potter, the damned Gryffindor hero, was standing on the upper side and helping people across the gap with a big grin on his face.
Draco rolled his eyes and pushed through the crowd and to the front, seeing no point in blotting a perfect time and attendance record for his classes simply because the Weasleys had gone and acted like the fools they were.
Potter did a double take as he came face to face with the tall, handsome Slytherin, but offered an outstretched hand nonetheless. Draco sneered at the green eyed boy, leaning forward on his knees, ready to assist.
"Isn't this nice Potter, finally on your knees to offer a Malfoy your servitude" he drawled, smirking in a most Malfoy-ish manner. Potter frowned and heaved an agitated sigh.
"For Merlin's sake Malfoy, just gimme your hand so I can get to the next person" he said impatiently and brushed dark hair out of his eyes, revealing briefly the lightening reminder of who Potter was, with the hand not outstretched towards Draco.
Draco looked distastefully at the waiting hand, but reached out anyway, annoyed with the whole situation and its utter absurdity.
Potter allowed the blonde to grasp his hand and Draco felt the rough, Quidditch calloused fingers under his and looked up, startled and confused by a bizarre occurrence.
Their fingers, hands, slipped together as easy as anything and Draco was far too aware of the heat of those tanned fingers within his slender pale ones. As the skin of their fingertips first touched as well, he felt a bolt of electricity shoot up his arm, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. His eyes met Potters and, for a fraction of a second, their gaze held, no anger or hatred in it, and he felt as though he could see Potter's very soul in his deep green eyes.
The moment lasted but a second, and Draco found himself over the chasm and Potter had turned to the next person needing a hand. What in the hell was that? Draco asked himself with a mental sneer, now I'm going to have to wash my hands.
But he ignored the tingling sensation in his fingers and the pleasant phantom of warmth left by Potter's hand in his. He ignored too, the way their hands had fitted together so perfectly, like they were meant to be clasped together. He ignored that completely. He couldn't even dream of beginning to deal with it in any way shape or form.
If you are not mine then why does your heart return my call?
Draco kept having these moments with Potter and he tried to block it out, desperately tried to block it out, but by Christmas, he was feeling a mess.
It was almost the holidays and he had deigned to go to a party some people had set up and found himself dancing in the midst of an almost pitch black room to a heavy beat. He went from partner to partner, never finding any enjoyment in any of them.
Suddenly, he found himself pressed against a slightly shorter, lither form and looked down to meet the gaze of green eyes, staring right up at him.
Without thought, he put his hands on Potter's hips and manoeuvred the two of them so he had one of the other boy's legs between his own and one leg between the dark haired boys. He moved slightly to the beat, holding Potter flush against him.
Draco could not help himself, he did not break the gaze of icy grey clashing with vivid green, so he did not think and he just danced. It sent off warning bells all through his head and he ignored every single one of the. They could go to hell with their warnings for all he damn cared.
He leant down so his face was just a few inches from Potter's, then breathed out softly, feeling hot and sweaty, but so damn good, despite the sense of utter wrongness of the situation. "You want this Potter" he murmured, moving his hips a little against the dark haired boy's groin. Potter gasped and Draco tried to stop him as he mumbled no repeatedly and shook his head, disappearing.
Draco retired to his room, feeling sick with himself. What had he been doing? He was such a damned fool. A wave of nausea rose up within him and he rushed to the bathroom, just in time, making it as far a toilet where he threw up, leaving a bitter, acid taste in his mouth and throat. It burned and reminded him how wrong the feelings moving around his head were. He groaned.
Potter had wanted it. Potter felt the same, he had to, he just had to. But damn it all, if Draco's father found out, the blonde doubted he'd even live another day. He shivered with terror at the very idea of his father's anger. He had to stop this, he couldn't like Potter, he couldn't, he didn't want to, he didn't want that feeling for the dark haired boy, that feeling that was so much more thank like, the one he didn't dare voice, not even in his tortured mind. He didn't dare.
He threw up again and passed out on the last day of term on the bathroom floor, blonde hair stuck in sweaty clumps to his clammy forehead, breaths uneven from silent sobs, eyes tight closed to the world he didn't want to face.
If you're not mine would I have the strength to stand at all?
Christmas day came eventually and Draco lay in bed. He was the only Slytherin at Hogwarts. Most had returned home for the holidays, but no-one had wanted him home, he didn't want to move from the soft mattress, nor did he want to open his hangings.
He felt very much alone. With all his money, of which he had a great deal, all his wit and charm, which he had in plentiful supplies too, and all his stunning looks, which were truly gorgeous, with all he had, he felt like he was empty and had nothing left in the world right then, a sorry state of affairs for anyone, especially at Christmas.
He glanced down to the end of his bed where a small pile of presents were sitting. He frowned, he didn't feel the usual rush of glee and pleasure at the sight of the perfectly wrapped gifts, nor did he have any particular desire to open them. He didn't understand himself any more. Why had he changed so?
He stumbled out of bed eventually and drifted around Hogwarts in a daze, pale and unkempt looking, hardly recognisable as Draco Malfoy, just a shadow of his usual self.
He wondered what forces were keeping him awake and walking. His family did not want him home, his friends had all left him, he had no happiness gleaned from the seasonal cheer and he hadn't and would never have Potter.
He stopped suddenly, letting the last thought replay in his head. I will never have Potter he thought vaguely, detachedly, eyes staring in blank grey hurt and confusion at the floor.
What was the point in life, his body and mind insisted there was none, and he should just give in, it was pointless and futile trying to make something of it. He moaned bitterly at the utter ridiculousness of it all and sank to the floor, suddenly unable to stand. He leant back against the cold stone wall, tears slipping silently down his pale handsome face.
His head and body had given him up for dead, that's why he felt so cold and blank, but that realisation; I will never have Potter, it made his hear ache with a sorrow known to many. His heart was the only part keeping him alive, not to love, but to feel heartbreak, for that was the longing, twisting, gut-wrenching, heart-stopping, finger shaking, icy cold, blunt and painful feeling that had clamped its vile fingers around his poor hear.
He sobbed silently and wished with all his broken heart for the dark haired boy who was not his, never his, the one thing he truly wanted and could never have.
I don't wanna run away but I can't take it, I don't understand
If I'm not made for you then why does my heart tell me that I am?
Is there any way that I can stay in your arms?
When Potter returned to school, Draco avoided the boy at all costs, trying not to make his throbbing heart bleed any more for the green eyes beauty it so longed to love freely.
He was wandering in the frozen grounds, alone, when he encountered Potter and his friends leaving the Quidditch pitch, laughing, smiling. He caught sight of the dark haired boy with his bright, jade eyes, pink, laughing lips, tousled raven hair and flushed cheeks and his heart wrenched painfully, so he ran.
He couldn't feel like that for Potter, he couldn't. It wasn't possible; said his head. His body could resist the boy even. But though he repeated the words in his head over and over, and could do so forever, his heart denied them easily every time and could so eternally, because you can't lie to your heart, however much it may hurt to admit the truth.
I don't want Potter, don't care about him, don't think him beautiful, don't, I don't, I don't need him! Draco yelled repeatedly in his head, face buried in his pillow, wishing by all God's angels that he could just die.
The tears kept falling though, being soaked up by the green pillow and disturbing Draco as he eventually slept, fitfully, with the damp material under his pale cheek.
If I don't need you then why does your name resound in my head?
He heard yet another person call out to the dark haired boy and turned away. Every person that called to Potter left an echo of his name ringing in Draco's ears. It was all he could hear and it hurt so bad. At least by calling him Potter, he was still keeping a distance and helping himself, but it was tempting, so damn tempting, to say it just once and hear the name roll of his tongue just once
"Harry…" he murmured softly. The name tasted like heaven as it slipped from his pink lips. He brought it his fingers to his mouth, almost to stop himself from saying it out loud again. But it was so good; it had rolled off his tongue like it was meant to. It would sound so right in so many scenarios too, If I called to him; 'Hey, Harry, wait up!' Or if I was teasing him; 'Don't you like that Harry? Poor Harry…' Or if I was calling his name out in the middle of a heated moment; 'Harry, yes, Harry!' Or even if I was saying those words, those words I can't actually say, those three eternal words my lips can't form…
Draco closed his eyes tightly. He wouldn't say those words even if he could, it would be admitting defeat. He did not, could not, was not allowed to, feel for Harry like that.
If you're not for me then why does this distance maim my life?
Why did every moment he was not with the dark haired boy hurt so? It was a torture to him. He didn't understand. Draco didn't understand why he had a need to hold Harry in his arms and never let him go. He didn't understand why it hurt.
He wished it didn't hurt. Any other hurt was better though, anything to distract him from that burning of a heart denied its other half. Any pain that would banish that would do fine for Draco, he couldn't care less, especially if it ended the pain of heartbreak, that would be a blessing.
Draco stood facing his reflection, bewildered by the pain dancing in his own grey eyes. How did he banish it, how did he replace it? He glanced down and caught sight of a flash of silver. He picked up the razor blade and looked at it, confused. Why did that sharp edge suddenly look so inviting? Why was Draco so messed up? He hated himself.
He grasped the razor tightly in his right fist and ignored the burning as it sliced the pale skin. He looked at his reflection again, seeing his face distorted by pain and utter bewilderment made him angry. He yelled and punched the mirror with his right fist, feeling the glassy surface shatter beneath his knuckles.
He sank to the floor, back against the wall, shards of glittering mirror scattered around him. He opened his still clenched fist and looked at the razorblade and the red blood smeared across the metal and his palm. He observed it with a detached fascination as it dripped off the ends of his fingers. It hurt.
It hurt so much in fact, that for a little while; he forgot all about Harry and slept peacefully before dawn and fresh torment returned to him.
'Cause I miss you, body and soul so strong that it takes my breath away
And I breathe you into my heart and pray for the strength to stand today
'Cause I love you, whether it's wrong or right
You know I can't be with you tonight
You know my heart is by your side
Harry had left. Draco heard by rumour first, then by Dumbledore as he addressed the school. Harry had gone to fight Voldemort, to be in the final battle. He felt numb, imagining Harry, alone, facing his father and the other death-eaters and the Dark Lord, facing them with no hope in hell of making it out alive.
Draco couldn't breathe it frightened him so, he needed Harry back, with all that he was, he longed to have the dark haired beauty with him and safe, where Draco could hold him close and protect him.
He broke down, right in the middle of the Great Hall, much to the astonishment of every person there. He couldn't hold it back any longer. The tidal wave of pent up feeling was ready to crash and break on the shore and Draco no longer had the strength to stop it.
Harry might die and he doubted that he could stop it even if he tried and he had never told Harry that he loved him, so there he was, tears streaming down his pale, gaunt, handsome face, grey eyes glazed with pain and hurt,
"I love him, I love him and he's never gonna come back, he's never coming back, but I love him and I never said, oh god, by all your angels, take me instead of him, please, please, I love him…" he continued to cry and murmur his feelings until his collapsed, exhausted and broken.
He woke in the middle of the night in the hospital wing, seeing shadows dance with moonlight across the ceiling and darkness' veil hide the things it chose to.
He closed his eyes tight and pictured Harry in his head, visualising himself with the dark haired boy, holding him close, protecting him, loving him, being close to him and always staying there. He sent it out into the night with a pulse of violent, raw magic, taking his heart straight to Harry, praying the green eyed boy would receive his prayer and his comfort, his love and his broken heart, knowing regardless that his heart was with the dark haired boy whatever happened.
He loved Harry, whatever the consequences and he was not going to give that up. He was terrified of his father and the man he served, but realised that, right or wrong, he loved Harry and would not leave him to his fate.
He slipped out of the hospital wing and returned to his dormitory, dressed hurriedly and left the castle, wrapped up in a dark cloak, barely breathing from fear. Once outside the gates of Hogwarts, he apparated home. The dark lord had been living in Malfoy Manor long enough and Draco doubted somehow that that would have changed.
He found himself gazing a scene that wrenched his heart with a violent twist; Harry being bound with magical ropes and gagged, then forcibly and unceremoniously dragged into the Manor. Draco took a deep breath, emerging from the shadows.
His father whirled around, wand raised. He raised his arms in surrender and smirked.
"You've got Potter" he said with a lazy smirk. "I'm sorry or sneaking up, I just wanted to see the final show. Mind if I hang around?" Lucius Malfoy smiled at him in a most Malfoy-ish manner and nodded.
Draco proceeded to follow his father and the other death-eaters through his front door and into the manor, trying to keep a dignified stance and straight face, desperate though he was to attack them all and run to Harry's side.
He spent a week in his own home, sneaking about and setting up a plan to get Harry away. He was petrified every time he found himself making up garbled excuses and vague lies to the death eaters, hiding his actions, but he did not stop. He would not stop until Harry was safe under Dumbledore's protection.
He eventually found a point where he was as ready as ever he would be, so asked his father to see Harry, acting as though it were simple curiosity and a desire to taunt that made him do so.
I don't wanna run away but I can't take it, I don't understand
If I'm not made for you then why does my heart tell me that I am
Is there any way that I can stay in your arms?
Draco slipped into the room where Harry was being kept, only to see the dark haired boy tied to a chair with magical bindings, still gagged, face pale and frightened, eyes devoid of hope, making the blonde's heart twist with a painful jerk.
He stepped in front of the green eyed boy and crouched, so to meet his eyes. Harry scowled and looked pissed off.
"I'm not here to taunt you" Draco murmured softly, looking pained. "I'm here to help. I don't care if you don't want to listen to me, but right now you have to. I have made a polyjuice potion which will last until the counter remedy is taken, and the remedy or counter potion as you might call it is a simple and quite easily accessible substance we call firewhisky. The only other thing that'll make you change back is dying." Harry frowned. "Listen, Potter, Harry, I have made it so you'll look like me and I've got a vial of firewhisky to hand, so you can change back as soon as you're safe. You can pretend to be me and get out of here, get back to Hogwarts. Just say you left a jumper there that you want to wear, my father won't bat an eyelid, he'll simply let you leave. I'll stay here and you can be safe." With these words, Draco removed the gag and bindings with a flick of his wand.
Harry looked at him in utter confusion, standing up and rubbing his chafed wrists. Neither Harry nor Draco spoke a word and the blonde handed the dark haired boy two vials, keeping one to himself.
"Nothing bad will happen. I promise. Anyway, Potter, drink up" said the blonde with a sad half smile, necking the vial. With a moment of hesitation, Harry did so too and both boys' stifled their pained groans as they mutated into each other.
Draco took Harry's glasses, putting them on himself and feeling odd, looking at himself. He walked over to the chair and sat down as Harry had been sitting and muttered a charm, binding his body to the wooden seat. He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling worried.
"Why?" said Harry, looking at him in a confused manner. Draco swallowed and choked back tears. He shook his head a little.
"Because, well, because" Draco couldn't say the words still, Why can't I just damn spit it out and tell him? I've known about it for long enough. Hell, it's now or never… "Because Potter, well, I, I, I…I love you" Harry paled and with his newly acquired features of Draco's, it made him damn near white.
"What did you just say Malfoy?"
"I love you. I love you Harry" said Draco, eyes shining with bittersweet tears. He mumbled a charm and a gag appeared over his mouth, he then dropped his wand, which Harry walked around to pick up.
Draco let his head drop, opting to stare at the floor. He was startled by a gentle hand on his chin tilting his face upward. Draco closed his eyes, unwilling to look.
"I'm sorry" stated Harry softly, voice tinged with sadness. "I'm sorry for everything." Harry removed the gag with a flick of the wand for a bare moment to lean forward and press their lips together, then spelled it back quickly, blushing and rushing from the room.
Draco didn't care about anything after that, he just let that memory comfort him and warm him as he sat, eyes still tight closed, wishing it could have lasted forever.
It was a long time afterwards that someone actually came for him. They hit him, kicked him and used Crucio on his more times than he could count before dragging him outside and standing him before the dark lord. It didn't hurt though. He just kept his eyes closed and remembered that kiss.
The dark lord eventually forced him to open his eyes and Draco felt his heart fluttering in his mouth. He was afraid, so very afraid, but at least Harry was safe, thus so, he figured, was his heart, because the dark haired boy had had it for a very long time.
"I decided long ago that you were not worth the time it takes to say Avada Kevadra" said the dark lord, voice cold and harsh, "So I found something better. It's like Crucio a thousand times over and lasts for around an hour or two before it kills you. It has no cure though, of course not." Draco paled in his dark haired form. "Might as well get on with it: Anima-Annula!" There was a flash of violet light. Draco screamed.
White hot knives sliced him to ribbons repeatedly. Daggers twisted in his gut with the malice only cursed ones know. Hellfire burned mercilessly in his eyes, blinding him. Icy cold fingers of sharp steel clenched around his heart. Phantom hands ripped him apart from the inside. He screamed again.
He didn't see the crowds of Aurors as they stupefied the death eaters. Nor did he see the person who lit the dark lord on fire. He only screamed. He did not know that the curse, as soon as it hit him, worked as death would, and all could see Draco Malfoy, writhing and twisting in agony in the dirt, back arching and mouth open in silent screams, hands still bound behind him, eyes pressed tight closed, tears marking clean tracks down his dirty face as he lost the control to stop them falling.
Draco, unlike all others, did not see the look on Lucius Malfoy's face as he saw his son, his only child, a boy he loved dearly despite what people liked to say, with his body twisting in pain, mouth parted in silent agony, handsome face wrongly altered in deep suffering. All knew then that none of Voldemort's supporters had known that it was not Harry they were killing.
The blonde was not aware when all the fighting had stopped and the object of his affections rushed to his side, desperate to help.
Draco, in the midst of darkness and a pain that was slowly destroying his soul, felt phantom-like warmth of skin on skin. He focused on it and thought of nothing but that warmth until he could determine the fact that someone was stroking his forehead and holding his head on their lap. He opened his eyes, the grey in them almost gone, his pupils dilated so from pain and fear.
"Hey Draco," murmured the dark haired individual above him. Draco whimpered as another violent jerk of agonising pain ripped through his body, breaking his feeble defences against it. "Hold on, okay, we're gonna fix it. I promise." Draco shook his head and bit his lip, trying not to yell at the white hot burning all over, inside and out.
"Harry," he choked out, trying to use the precious time he had left, "I, I love you and, and," he hissed in pain as invisible devils tore at his trembling form, "I'm just, going to miss this, life, everything" Draco added, a bitter smile on his aristocratic features. Harry smiled at the blonde and murmured,
"Don't be so melodramatic Draco, you're not going to die, so don't be such a fool"
Draco did not see as Lucius Malfoy stirred and noticed what was going on, then went on his knees to beg to see his son. He did see however when his father came into view, shortly after Harry's calm dismissal of his words.
"You're wrong Potter. He is going to die" said his father, a look of deep pain and regret crossing his usually composed features. "I was the one who created the curse alongside the dark lord. It works and by the looks of my son, it has almost finished its work." The blonde saw Harry's eyes flicker back to his own face, but could not himself see what the dark haired boy could; dilated pupils in eyes beginning to haze over, skin clammy and pale as that of the dead, pink lips losing their rosy hue and fading to a cool blue, a thin trickle of blood red as heartache and hell slipping from the side of an almost slack mouth.
Draco smiled vaguely at his father as he felt the agonising pain ebb away with a strange wash of cold. He felt so cold and Harry's gentle hands stroking his head were so warm.
"I'm sorry Draco" uttered the green-eyed boy, looking hurt and upset, close to tears, "And I'm sorry it never would have worked between us" Draco laughed a little, the sound tainted by the faint gargle of blood.
"But I do love you Harry, you're the one, I swear it, the only one" Harry brushed away a lone tear that the blonde boy wished he had not had to see.
He did love Harry, really and truly and he was no longer afraid to admit it.
"I'm not the one, Draco, I'm not, I couldn't be, it would never work"
"My heart says you are the one and I do love you, whatever you say, and if you aren't the one, why would my heart say you are." Draco was afraid by the rejection. He did love Harry, and his heart would not lie to him, no, it wouldn't, it'd never lie.
Harry looked down at him and shifted them, pulling Draco bodily into his lap and cradling the blonde in a warm, gentle embrace.
"Can I stay here, in your arms?" asked Draco softly, terrified of being denied. He did not know it, but though the many people around him had always disliked him, they were all crying, for him, in pity for a boy so broken and ruined by love's actions, a boy they had never even believed capable of love.
Harry nodded in reply to Draco and cuddled him closer, letting the blonde lay his head on his chest and be close to a beating heart.
"I'm sorry Draco, I'm sorry you feel the way you do." Draco smirked, a shadow of his usual self, speaking in his sneering drawl, a hint of sleepiness lacing it.
"Don't feel too flattered Potter, I don't mean to feel this way, I just do, my heart beats faster for you, it's not my fault or choice that you are the one." Unbeknownst to the blonde, Harry felt truly awful right then, holding the ghost of his former school rival tightly in his arms, knowing he could never return the feelings.
"I'm not the one Draco, I'm not…" he whispered.
Draco shivered. He felt so cold. Not even the warmth offered by the dark haired boy worked anymore. The chill was seeping into his bones and he couldn't stop it. He whimpered softly as the vision began to shift and warp. He clung to the vision of Harry before him,
"If you're not the one, then why…" Draco paused, short of breath and yet desperate to finish his sentence. The green eyed boy frowned, clearly not aware of the darkness almost completely consuming the blonde.
"Then why what?"
Draco sighed, murmuring with the last strength he had;
"If you're not the one, then why do I love you?"
Draco let the darkness take him and left the boy he loved so dearly. Harry clutched tighter at the limp and unresisting body in his arms and let the tears of grief slip hot and bitter down his cheeks. He kissed Draco's forehead with a gentle caress, then his lips with the soft and tender warmth of a lover. The words echoed in his head, destined to haunt him till the day he died;
If you're not the one, then why do I love you?
Now you've read it, I beg you to review! Pretty please...?