Draco was always very aware of Harry Potter. He was told throughout his childhood about how he had caused the downfall of the Dark Lord. He might be the next powerful Dark Wizard. His father was always talking about the wonders of being in a pureblood world, and how, possibly, Harry Potter would lead them there. However, when Draco first met the ever-so-famous Harry Potter, he wrote home, explaining his weasel friend, and how he had not accepted his offer of friendship. Maybe, now, his father would focus a bit more on him and not the dream of another Dark Wizard to follow. Draco was wrong. Lucius always gave Harry Potter more attention. He hated Potter for that. Yet, he couldn't help but admire his bravery, loyalty, pure talent, power…. The list went on. It wasn't until the Quidditch World Cup that Draco figured out what his feelings for Harry really were.
Draco walked into the Minister's Box at the stadium. There he was. Draco was caught off guard. He didn't know that Harry Potter would be here. His heart pumped loudly, but Draco kept his face blank. He couldn't stop himself from starring at his permanently ruffled hair, his dreamy green eyes… Even the way he held himself, with utter confidence, made Draco's chest tighten. When Harry and the Weasley family realized that they were there, the two groups exchanged the normal insults. Draco sat to watch as the game began. He couldn't focus on the game, though. His eyes kept trailing to the back of Harry's head. He tried to shake the thoughts from his mind.
After the match was over, Draco was laying in the bed within their family two-story tent: complete with peacocks out front. He was debating telling his father how he felt. He knew his father would not be happy, so he went to his mum.
"Hey, Mum..."
"Yes, darling?"
"I'm feeling a bit… confused."
"About what, sweetheart?"
"I… I… I think I'm in love with Harry Potter." He had spat out his confession so quickly, Narcissa barely caught the words. Barely. Seeing the shocked mask on the face of his mother, he winced. Narcissa wasn't sure of what to say, so she just replied,
"Don't tell your father. We'll talk about this later."
"But…"
Suddenly Draco realized why she had cut their conversation short. His father strutted into the room. Draco went a bit pink in the face, hoping he hadn't heard. He must not have, because he grabbed his wife, kissed her, and smiled in a chilling way.
"Let's have some fun, shall we? Don't forget your robe and mask, my darling. Draco," he addressed his son, "go into the wood and do not leave till we fetch you."
"Yes, Father."
Draco helped his parents pack their tent, and then retreated into the wood as he was told. He knew his father wasn't very proud of him. Most of the time, Draco was treated like a dog. He tried so hard to be like Harry Potter. He wanted to do something his father could boast about. He realized upon entering the wood that no matter how hard he tried, his father would not love him. He realized that there was a good chance that Harry Potter would never love him either. Draco felt wounded. His heart was aching with physical pain. Even if Draco could never have Harry, he would use everything down to his last breath protecting him. Long live the Chosen One. Long live Harry Potter.