Warning: OOCness, also, doesn't quite follow the book.
I hated Potter. It was as simple as that and somehow more complicated. He was a stupid Gryffindork. I was a Slytherin- a noble of pure blood. That person and me- we had nothing in common. We were destined to be arch-enemies.
The Malfoy family had established their position well in the Dark Lord's inner circle. As a small child, I had heard my parents' stories of the olden glorious days when people felt unsafe even in their own houses- how the filthy mudbloods and contaminated breeds were wiped out to protect the purity of their race. The Dark Lord- how I longed to serve him.
The first time I met Potter, I had no idea who he was. The second time, he made me lose face in front of my friends (something my father had warned me of) and befriended unacceptable people.
That day onwards, I felt it to by my duty to hate him.
I always made it a point to sneer at him whenever I could- even if my heart wasn't in it. It was my duty and the Malfoys performed their duties well.
In my fifth year, I discovered something strange and annoying. I found it hard to look into Potter's eyes. It was as though those green eyes could pierce into my soul, choking the words in my throat. The tinge of amusement in them at time caught me off guard and did nothing to help.
Whatever. Maybe I hated green-that would explain it.
One time, I had succeeded in making Potter furious by doing insulting his 'friends'. The green eyes, sparkling like jewels made me drop my gaze and pretend to disinterestedly examine my shoes. I seemed to hate jewellery too.
What explained the fact then that I wanted to kiss Potter, cutting off his torrent of words which I wasn't listening to either way?
Stupid Potter and his equally unbecoming messy hair. Didn't he ever comb it?
When I turned 16, I got the opportunity to serve the Dark Lord. The honour, the pride- all that I had expected from my parents- nothing. Instead they looked grieved, fearful and grim.
I soon understood that Dark Lord did not always treat his followers well.
My first mission was to kill Dumbledore. If I failed to do it, he would kill my parents. To make me realise he wasn't joking, he tortured my parents and forced me to watch.
First I had to fix the vanishing cabinet. It was no easy task.
Soon I lost my sleep-even when I was in bed; I just stared at the ceiling for hours. Soon I made midnight trips to the Room of Requirement. My grade dropped but I no longer cared. What good were grades now?
On one of my midnight walks, I was heading towards the common room when Potter appeared in front of me, leaning against the wall, his arms folded, his hair even more messed up than usual.
"What are you doing here, Potter?" I spat. Honestly, I hadn't given him much thought.
"I could ask you the same thing, Malfoy?" Potter replied casually.
Deciding it would be better to walk away, I hurried on. He stepped up, blocking my path.
"What? Nothing to say?" a little surprised.
"Get out of my way." I hissed.
Potter shrugged.
"Make me."
I felt my temper rise. I had no time for this.
I whipped out my wand, but he was ready. With a quiet 'experlliamus', my wand flew into his hand.
"Tut tut. It's dangerous to play with wands. So, Malfoy, what's bothering you?" The tinge of concern in his tone caught me off guard.
I looked at him suspiciously.
"What are you talking about?" I demanded.
"So something is bothering you." he sighed. "What is it?"
I suppressed my anger. If he wanted to play it like this, fine.
"Why should I tell you?" I shot back. He shrugged. "No, go on. Why? So that you can tell your precious Dumbledore that Malfoy has been a bad boy?"
"There's no need to be jealous."
"Not to me- what?" I glared at him stupefied.
He came to stand in front of me, pushing my wand lazily back into my pocket.
"Come on, Draco, it's not that hard to admit." He sighed.
The outrageous implication entered my head and before I could retaliate, he pushed me against the wall and pressed his lips upon mine.
His hands traced a leisurely path up my chest. I tried to resist- that is, before a wave of desire overwhelmed me. As his tongue slid in, hot and wet, I responded with an embarrassing eagerness that almost disbalanced him. In return, he nibbled at my bottom lip. Soon it was a war to gain dominance.
I had lost all track of time. Suddenly my actions caught up with me and I pushed Potter away. Both of us were breathing hard.
"This never happened." I managed and turning, walked away before I could see him smirking.
I failed my duty.
I lost my face, this time, in front of myself.
I punched the wall before kneeling over in agony over my fist.
Shit.
Please review. Wonder what would have happened if Draco had continued losing track of time. Haha, guess we'll never know now.