Title: The Right Kind

Author: Arawna

Disclaimer: Anything relating to the Harry Potter world does not belong to me, but to JKR and any and everyone else who has a finger in that cauldron.

Summary: Harry knows what Draco's doing to him, and it's time Draco knows too. Harry's POV.

A/N: Based (loosely) on lyrics of LeAnn Rimes' The Right Kind of Wrongfrom the Coyote Ugly Soundtrack.

The Right Kind:

I'm very aware of your…reputation; your tendency to use and throw away. I know that me being who I am won't change that and that you'll probably just hurt me, but I can't help it. I really can't.

I've tried.

I've tried ignoring your grand entrances. I've tried looking the other way. I've tried distracting myself. But it doesn't work. Just knowing that you're there, within touching distance, makes me weak. I'm utterly lost to the world around me if you just whisper my name, barely so that no one can hear it.

It's pathetic, really, how desperate I am for you. For your touch. I know that I shouldn't love you, that you probably don't love me, but this yearning to be with you all the fucking time is just…overwhelming. You have no idea.

I know that I'm making a mistake. I tell myself that every morning when I wake up and every night when I go to bed. Hell, I admit it to myself when I go to meet you. But there's nothing I can do about it. There's just something about this almost forbidden affair that gives me a rush that I can't find anywhere else. And the scary part is I don't want to find it anywhere else.

My friends tell me that I shouldn't be with you, that you just bring pain. But they only see what we do in public. If they knew what goes on when we're alone, they would come to know why I put up with the public displays of loathing; why I put up with the pain you put me through on a daily basis.

I need to run from you. That's for certain. And I find that I am running, but it's always from my friends, and it's always toward you. I think I'm in the wrong, but I like so much what happens when I run to you. The comfort. The understanding. The…never mind. It's always what you do to me when there's no one around that I don't care that I may be in over my head; that I may not be able to salvage what's left of my heart when this is done.

You're the reason I don't care if I'm weak, or helpless, or longing. However, you're the reason that I'm weak, and helpless, and longing.

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"That's not how you really feel, is it?" Draco asked, his beautiful gray eyes studying mine.

I lowered my eyes to avoid his gaze.

"Yes," I admitted after a moment. "It's that and so much more, but so much less at the same time. It's so hard to put into words."

"Let me get this straight," he said, shifting on his bed. "Weasley and Granger are telling you that I'm all wrong for you, that this relationship is all wrong for you. But you insist that my behavior when we're alone outweighs what happens when we're around others? But they don't know that. They see through the eyes of the public, not through your eyes."

Evidently, it wasn't hard to put into words.

I nodded.

"But you just admitted that this is a mistake," he asked, gesturing between us.

I bit my lip. "Yes, because I know that I will end up with a broken heart and you will go on with your life like nothing had happened. I know this, but I still continue to see you. On a regular basis, no less."

"Harry."

He said it softly, so much so that at first, I thought it was just my imagination. But then his fingers were urging my chin up and I looked into his eyes; only for a moment, though, before I tried to look away again. His hand prevented me from avoiding his eyes again.

"Harry," he said again, louder. This time, I didn't try to move. "I won't throw you out."

"But-" I try, but he cut me off.

"'But' nothing," he said to me. "You won't be getting rid of me anytime soon. And if you did, it would break my heart more than it would break yours."

Something inside my chest constricted at his words. "Draco."

"Shhh," he whispered.

He leaned forward to bridge the gap between us and pressed his lips to mine. It was a brief touch, but it wiped all my worries away.

"I don't care what Ron and Hermione say," I told him, resting my forehead against his. "You're my right kind of wrong."

He smiled and kissed me again.

"Oh, and don't tell anyone about what I told you," he said with a grin. "You know, the reputation and everything."

I smiled at him and pushed him back on the bed.

FINS