Draco Malfoy stormed down the corridors of Hogwarts, filled with rage. It was late in the evening, and the sun had already set. Streaks of moonlight met his face, emphasising his pale completion. His heart, thumping at an abnormal rate, and his body fiery hot, although he shivered as if he were made of ice. Bitten fingernails dug into the palms of his pale, bony hands, forcing himself to not let the tears which he could feel building up, fall.
An incredible pain pierced though his skull, enough to make him stop abruptly in his tracks. His vision was blurred, and even though every inch of his body was beyond exhaustion, he felt like he could run three laps of a Quidditch field.
He let out a quiet moan, and slumped his weak, thin body against the wall. He couldn't do it, he let out a sob, allowing the tears to fall.
This time tomorrow, he would be forced to kill his headmaster.
He had never killed anyone before, didn't know what to expect or prepare for. What would it feel like? Stealing the life of another. A whole life, ended with a point of a wand and two simple words.
He felt an emptiness in his stomach, unsure if it was due to dread or lack of nutrition.
When was the last time I ate anyway?
He let his body fall to the ground, his sobs sounding more like a plea for help.
"Malfoy?" a sudden voice scared the life out of the boy, as he snapped his head in the direction of the voice's origin.
There before him stood a dark figure, the surroundings too poorly lit to make out any defining features. But he recognised that obnoxious voice anywhere.
"Potter," he practically spat in disgust, but out loud sounded more helpless and disinterested than intended. He still hadn't stopped crying, not matter how much he tried to, his body just wouldn't listen.
He felt pathetic. Here he was, Draco Malfoy, supposed to be a threat to anyone who passed his way. A future servant to the dark lord and the heir to the Malfoy fortune. But instead, there he lay, balling his eyes out in front of the chosen one, like a little first year who had gotten his ass kicked in.
He could still feel Harry's presence in front of him, he hadn't moved an inch. He could just feel him staring at him, like piercing daggers into his skull. He felt anger and frustration built up inside him towards the Gryffindor boy. But any desire to storm away from him, or even shoving him out of his road, and a dig in the stomach for good measure, was swallowed up by the overwhelming emptiness inside of him.
He heard a single foot step echo around the corridor, and Draco assumed it was Harry backing away from the situation out of sheer lack of interest or concern for the Slytherin. But no, he was getting closer. Still saying nothing, but footstep after footstep he made himself more visible from the darkness.
Draco raised his head slightly, meeting the eyes of the other boy. A stream of moonlight reflected against those stupid, old fashioned circular glasses he wore. His raven, unkempt hair standing in each and every direction, but somehow managed to look oddly striking in that moment. He wore an expression which Draco couldn't quite but his finger on.
Confusion? Pity? Empathy?
Draco had wanted desperately to spit out some threatening remark, telling the other to "back off Potter," or "get lost." But instead, he just sat, dumfounded looking up at the other boy with sheer uncertainty.
All of a sudden, Harry bend down on his knees to meet Draco at eye level. Draco could feel his heart rate begin to increase again.
What are you doing? Get up! Or for God sakes, say something!
Still he remained silent, looking into the Gryffindor's piercing emerald eyes. Slowly, Harry raised a hand, placing it gently on Draco's cold, pale cheek. Draco felt like he couldn't move, as though he were a statue. Tears were still falling, and Harry brushed his thumb gently over his cheek as they did so.
Draco hadn't noticed how close Harry's face was to his own, only a few inches apart. He could feel the others warm breath against his own icy blue lips. Harry used his hand to raise Draco's head slightly, leaning forward to capture Draco's lips with his own.
Draco could feel everything around him start to spin, and an overwhelming sense of tranquillity flowing though his body in waves. The kiss was sweet and gentle, yet forceful and filled with desire. Draco felt as through his heart would jump right out of its chest if it were to beat any faster. All too soon, Harry pulled away from the kiss, his eyes never once loosing contact with Draco's.
Draco was expecting Harry to say something… anything. But instead he stood up slowly, turned around and walked back the way he came, the darkness engulfing him. Footsteps could still be heard, but soon faded to silence as he walked further away.
All sorts of emotions were running though Draco's mind as this point, but at the same time he felt nothing. Totally empty. The tears which had not yet completely stopped, began to stream down his face again.
He was almost completely sure that Potter hated him. No he was certain that he did. Which just added to the confusion as to why he did what he did. Or maybe it was because he hated him, that he kissed him. Wanting to mess with his head, mix with his emotions. Draco wouldn't put it past Harry to do something manipulative like that. He knew all too well a manipulator when he saw one, and Harry definitely was. He could see it in his eyes.
After was seemed like hours, Draco finally managed to pick himself off of the ground, brushing down his robes. He leaned back his head against the cold, stone wall, blinking away the last few tears in his eyes. Yes, he was sure that Potter hated him, he could see that in his eyes too. But it didn't come close to how much he hated himself.