It doesn't matter that you're his best friend. Maybe you aren't even. Anymore.
It doesn't matter that you've known him since first year, that you've shared classes and crushes and losses and—
None of that matters. It doesn't matter that he came into Harry's life late in the game because his hair is shiny and his words are smooth and his lips are softer than yours could ever be. Oh, that doesn't matter because he never thought of kissing you anyway. Why should he? You are just his best friend. Just. That word stings.
It doesn't even matter that Draco hurt him. He doesn't remember any of that now. He only remembers the kisses and breaths and "I love you"s that are whispered like delicate spells. Only you remember the way it was before Draco. Only you remember the bad things. They don't matter to him anymore. Only you remember the times at night when you were the only one awake to comfort him. He doesn't remember the way your arms fit perfectly around him when you held him - he doesn't like to think about that. Maybe he just doesn't like to think about you. You understand, or let yourself.
It doesn't matter that Draco's eyes are grey and dark and fleck with cruel wicked laughter when they look at you. Harry only sees love there. He ignores everything else.
It doesn't matter that Harry didn't shake Draco's hand back in first year because now he knows its every whorl and print and curve and you can see Draco's hands on Harry, the heat they've left on his arms. You see Draco in Harry's eyes, hate in Harry's eyes, so you shut your own, but Draco's voice is still falling on your ears and you can't drown it out. You wonder if maybe Harry never liked freckles because sometimes he looks at you like he does. Sometimes he looks at you like you're worth nothing. Sometimes his green eyes convince you that you are.
Harry doesn't look at you anymore and a thought plays out unbidden in your mind. He has forgotten your name. He has forgotten any name that doesn't begin with a D and end with an O and fills out in a desperate moan.
And you cry and cry wasted, voiceless tears that are all in your mind in the end. And they don't matter either because the choice has been made, has always been made, was made from the beginning when you gave yourself up to him. You think it isn't fair that he can have both your hearts. It's selfish, and you hate it, but you no longer have the strength to wrench yours back from his grasp. You just feel tired now, and defeated. And it doesn't even matter, because you can't sleep and you don't want to. You start to wonder if sleep is even necessary because even your dreams have turned against you now. You dream in green. And it is Harry's green. And it stings at you worse than any poison barb.
It's fitting that you're once again at odds with Draco, that again Malfoy has triumphed. Isn't that the way things work? He will always beat you. But this time he took too much. This time, with nothing more than a casual smirk he managed to rip everything from you that ever mattered. And oh, how smug he is that he's left you standing. Left you broken and bleeding and dying and still standing. He's left you standing with eyes that are open and unable to cry, left you with a heart beating to a rhythm you no longer remember.
But it doesn't matter that you are always second best now, that your voice is ignored and your smile goes unseen. It doesn't matter because you love him anyway. You hate yourself for it, but you love him anyway.
And you'll be the one still there waiting for him the day Draco walks away. It doesn't matter if that actually happens or not, you think, because just the thought of him coming back to you is enough to keep you going. You have the memories of how things were. You keep them locked up somewhere deep inside. You don't take them out to look at because they're tainted with bittersweet loss and regret that makes them almost too much to bear.
Even Harry's smile hurts you now. Because what you see is only a reflection. The real thing is not meant for you anymore. He is not yours to keep. Maybe he never was.
You want him to be happy but you'll never understand, or get along, or accept. It's not in your nature.
But you can let him go. Yes, that's what you can do. That's what you must do.
But Harry won't even notice. He's already walked away.