The Diary of Harry James Potter, August 29

I remember the first day I met him. How he insulted Ron. And I rejected him. The look in his eyes. Eyes like ice. Ice so cold it burns. If that makes any sense. How confused those eyes were when I refused his handshake. He was so angry. But before he became upset, I saw an emotion in those amazing eyes that I didn't understand until this year. Our fifth year and the first time "relationships" became an issue. Seamus Finnigan finally came out that he's...a fag. And has had a man crush on me since 1st year. Which frightens me as he shares a dorm with me. Has he be wanking off looking at me while I sleep? It makes me shudder. Yet at the same time...it kind of thrills me. Not that I swing like that. But you never know.

Back to my original train of thought, I remember Draco...the first day we met. Those eyes, that hair like snow. An ice prince. The Slytherin Prince, so he's become. Which is a stupid nickname. But I suppose it's better than "The-Boy-Who-Lived". That emotion I saw in his eyes when we met, I've been seeing it more than usual from him lately. I'll be in class, and feel someone's eyes on me and I'll turn. And it'll be him staring at me. With...hunger in his eyes. I haven't mentioned it to Ron or Mione. They'd make more of it then it is. It's funny...if I ever had to spend a long period of time with ANYONE I'd pick Draco. Because he'd make it interesting. If he didn't kill me. I'm supposed to hate him. He's supposed to be my "arch enemy", but lately I feel like I'm staring at him as much as he's staring at me. And people must be noticing. But I don't care.

In Potions the other day, I found myself staring at his lips. And thinking how soft they looked. And then, I realized that it was Draco I was thinking of, and fell off my chair. Of course, Snape had to make his normal jackass comment. And everyone laughed. Greasy bastard. Draco wasn't laughing though. He must've seen what I was looking at. Because, there were question marks in his eyes. And then, his face flushed and he turned away. Hermione saw. She gave me one of her "What are you up to?" looks. So I'll probably have to let her know soon enough. I have to let loose this spell that he's put on me lately. Because I hate him. I think.

The Diary of Draco Lucius Malfoy, August 31st

Things are...same old same old. School's started up again, Mother's overprotective as usual, and Father...where to start? He's trying, and failing, to regain the Dark Lord's trust. Mother loves that. I'm afraid we'll have to move soon to escape. To escape from father's mistakes. If he'd never gotten involved...we wouldn't have to put up with Ministry raids. All the time. Mother wouldn't be on edge. I hate father. I hate him with all I have. He's ruined our life. But at least I have Blaise. And...Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy. Blaise I at least can have an intelligent conversation with. And he's not too bad in bed either. Better than Pansy at least. Filthy whore.

I cornered Potter the other night. In an abandoned classroom where he was praticing spells. And failing. Miserably I might add. I figured...I had to do it. I have nothing to lose. So, I cornered him. Put my wand to his throat. Originally, I'd planned on hexing him into oblivion. But somehow...I looked into those bloody eyes of his and was captured. I couldn't move, or speak. Or think. And his gaze moved to my lips. So I couldn't help it. I leaned in, and pressed my lips against his. It was like fire when we touched. He kissed me back, hungrily, as if trying to drain all emotion from me. But he couldn't. Because, unlike him, I have expierience. My lips roamed over his, searching for an answer to a question I didn't know. He's really skinny, and before I even knew what was happening, my arms were wrapped around him, pressing his warm body closer. We stayed that way for I don't know how long, hands roaming, bodies pressed together, my lips to his, his thighs to mine, his chest to mine, before he pulled back, as if scalded. He looked at me, those green eyes wide with shock. And disbelief. At what he had just done.

For the first time in my life, I couldn't smirk at him. I just stood there, as confused as he was, bonded to him by incredulity at what we'd just done. He raised a pale hand to press at swollen lips, eyes moving from my face to the floor. Finally, I took control over myself and smirked at him. I couldn't let him realize, how deep what had happened was effecting me. Never have I ever needed, wanted, someone as badly as I had him. I'd never felt the icy burning that I did when our lips touched. It astounds me even as I write. After a moment, he mumbled something idiotic and rushed past me out the door. It was then that I realized that I had dropped my wand on a nearby desk. I couldn't even remember when I'd done it. I figured out later that what had happened was just a rush of hormones. Because I hate him. Because he represents everything I disagree with. Because he's Harry Potter, Scarhead, Gryffidors Golden Boy, The-Boy-Who-Gets-Away-With-Everything. Later, when I was lying in bed, Pansy's head on my chest, I thought about him. The stupid way his hair is always messed up, and his eyes. Burning, sparkling, eyes, like Emeralds. I hate him. He's my enemy. But...I can't forget what happened.