A Black Rose Blooms

I am weak now
having attempted to
cry out all feelings and
emotions for you:
In one breath you
make me smile and cry
in one [...]call you
lift my spirits and
plunge me into depression
Your voice can build up
my hopes and shatter my dreams.
You leave me wondering, yet
disenchanted.
How you do it,
I'll never know.
And that you do it,
I'll never breathe a clue.
At least not to you

Poem: A Clue – By Isis

(Draco's P.O.V)

I can't even begin to tell him how much I love him at this moment, and in every moment. His green eyes shine, bright like emeralds as he laughs, his head thrown back in mirth and unruly black hair falling over his eyes.

He is truly astounding, beautiful, handsome, and so unattainable even though he is so close to me. My heart aches as I see him each and every day knowing that I love him, yet I can never be with him.

My heat skips a beat whenever I look at him or I catch his eye, even if he may be looking at me with entirely different emotions in his heart; yes I know that he hates me, I have never given him a reason not to. Should not everyone be given a second chance though? How can the actions of an ignorant, silly eleven year old boy dictate how we act now, how could they? I ask myself this question, yet I deep down know the answer, it is written inside me, close to my heart, a truth that I would wish to deny. Yet I can't, I never did anything to make him stop hating me, in fact wounded as I was by his blatant rejection of my offered friendship I only served to make the relationship between us worse.

He is the one I love. It has been five years since that day that I met him for the first time at the tender age of eleven, two years since the day that he captured my heart and five years that I have suffered in the knowledge that I shall never even have the chance to be close to him. I always wanted to be his friend to be denied his friendship was the worst thing that ever happened to me; now that I love him everything is so much worse; These feelings that I have, they hurt- they hurt so badly.

We're sixteen now. I wish that I could turn back the clock, go back to that day that I met him, back to the day when I met him again on the train-when I realised who he was. I wish that I hadn't insulted that oaf Hagrid and the Weasel-I mean Weasley. I know that's what ruined my chances with him. I wish that I could change everything-it is too late now, I doubt that we could even be friends now, not after all that I have done-he would never even give me the time of day.

As I watch him share a joke among his friends I feel a tear as it snakes its way down my cheek. I stretch a hesitant hand up to wipe it away, I hadn't realised that I was crying. Thank goodness that my housemates were not nearby, a Slytherin should never be seen as weak, and especially not me of all people. I didn't know why though I should care if they saw me, it's not as I any of them are really my friends, there are only two people who I can give that title but it is not as if they are best friends, not like the ones that he has.

He is so special, a gem and I in comparison are a cheap fake who is trying to pass his self off as the real thing. I am not worthy of him and so I shall not breath a word of my affections, not an utterance shall be heard to pass my lips. These feelings are a curse, yet a blessing and they shall stay locked up, buried deep within my mind. I know that I shall love him forever and that while I do I can never commit myself to any other, I am fated to live a life alone without true love to guide and to comfort me, without someone to whom I can express my full love to. I know this and it hurts, a thousand daggers, needles piercing my skin. I can hardly bare to watch him, yet it hurts to turn away; my gaze it seems is drawn to him. I do not know what it would do if he found someone to love, someone who is not myself, I know that I would feel as if I were dying, I know that thing at least.

He has been with other people before, though that was before I realised just how much I cared for him-how much I loved him. I would wonder at the churning feeling in my gut when I stared at him seeing him with some girl on his arm. I never knew what the feeling was; now I know-I was jealous, jealous that the person hanging off his arm was not me. Jealous that it could never be me.

I dream about him every night, how could I not –him being so special so perfect in absolutely every single way. Yes I know that he has his faults but they just serve to make me love him even more. I love the way that his hair is always messy and falls into his eyes, oh those eyes, how I just love those gorgeous beautiful emerald eyes. If I could get away with it I would stare into those eyes forever. I love the way that he is so fiercely loyal to his friends, how he will jump to protect and defend them no matter what-even if it means putting his self in danger. He is such a Gryffindor, silly, stupid, charming and endearing.

I love the passion that lights up in his eyes when we fight, I love provoking him because that's the only time when he will ever talk to me willingly. I love that sometimes when we fight I will get to touch him even though he is most likely laying into me and trying to punch my lights out.

I love how he sucks at Potions and that even though he doesn't argue with Professor Snape –all that much- he still stands up for himself and doesn't let the Professors jibes get to him, that is unless they're about his father. I love the cute expression that his face makes when he makes a mistake and his potion explodes. I love it when he smiles and when he laughs. I haven't been able to see his sleeping face or his crying face. I don't know if I could bear to see him crying, I would just want to hold him and never let go and I know that that's impossible.

I want to kiss him; I want to feel his soft lips on mine. I dream of kissing him. I dream of him kissing me- him coming up to me, snogging me senseless, his tongue as it brushes against my lip begging for entrance and the gasp that I would make as he slid his tongue in... I wonder what it would feel like to have him pressed up against me, to feel his skin on mine, how it would feel as we made love. Of course I'm just being silly and I know that in the long run I'm probably only making things worse for myself-after all what's the point in dreaming after him, lusting over impossibility. I can't help myself though I will love him forever unconditionally.

My eyes droop as a feeling of fatigue washes over me and I lean back against the branches of the tree in which I am seated. I can't close my eyes though- it would mean lowering my guard, something that could be detrimental to my health in a school where pretty much everyone hates Slytherins- me especially- it pays to be careful.

God how pitiful I have become, I'm a Malfoy and yet I'm in love with Potter. Yes you can all laugh Draco Malfoy, son of a death eater in love with the Saviour, the Boy who lived -Harry Potter.

I wonder what the rest of the Slytherins would think of me if only they knew. I wonder what my father would say and I shudder what to think what he would do. My father loyal death eater, follower of the Dark Lord, he'd probably try to kill me- I wouldn't be at all surprised. Though you know what, I might not even care anymore whether I live or die by the time he finds out, it's not as if my life means anything anyway. Everyone fears me, they all think that I'm a Death Eater, they're wrong I don't have the mark, that doesn't matter to them. I'm not but I may not have any choice, I know that my father wants me to follow in his footsteps and how can I defy him, my father-the man who would use the cruciatus curse on me even as a child when I did not act with the proper decorum that he expected of me at all times.

I hate my father, I hate him and I hate the Dark Lord. I hate how my father, a Malfoy grovels at his feet. How can he do that Malfoy's' should have much more pride than that, than to grovel at the feet of a madman- a man who is not even a pureblood! Yeah I know he pretends to be a pureblood and all that but the truth is really different-it doesn't matter that he is Salazar Slytherins descendent- don't ask me how I know that the Dark Lord isn't all that he says he is, trust me it's actually a pretty boring story.

Anyway that's enough lamenting on how crap my life is for the moment. I look down, my feet dangling from the tree in which I am currently sitting in and sigh. Harry will never love me; he will never look at me with the same passion in his eyes that I feel for him.

Harry is walking back to the castle now, the Weasel and Granger with him. Gods why do they get to be by his side and I do not? Why is life not fair?

TBC...

A/N: Hope y'all like my new story and don't forget to review.

Next Chapter will be from Harry's point of view...

Still currently working on finishing my companion story to Where's Harry? And what's up with Draco Malfoy. Don't worry hopefully it should be up soon - (a month or so- maybe faster)- I'm also still writing a change of Heart, so if you are a reader of that one keep looking out for updates.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or the Poem i have used at the start of this chapter.