Authors Note: Set right at the start of the sixth book, I think. Not too sure. Will include smut, but I hate to both write, and read, plot-less smut, so it'll come in the next chapter. Which I will only post if people review this one. So review, it's for your own good (I felt very articulate today, hence the long words in here, which I usually shy away from).
Malfoy had learnt long ago, that things like this are best kept to oneself. You don't just go around broadcasting your every impediment to the masses. Where would Achilles of gotten, had he told every Troy soldier that if they whacked his ankle then, bam, he was screwed? Indeed, when it comes to dealing with your people, as they are, ignorance is everything.
He planned, neigh looked forward, to the day he could do more than serve the dark forces that be. To the day he could rule them. Finally to bring about the destruction of Dumbledore, Hogwarts, the Ministry even, and all that they stood for. And, with the exception of Hitler, how many people that swung 'that way' had really made such a huge impact, as major, political regime revolutionaries go?
No. To be a great leader you had to like girls, or at least have a keen, on-going interest, in them. As Lucius had once put it, 'do you think the dark Lord got where he was today by being a pansy, boy?' At the time Malfoy had simply bit his lip, holding back the urge not only to call his father a malicious, old-fashion communist, but also (as it had been quite some time ago) to ask where exactly the Dark Lord was (or had been since going into hiding way back when).
Now, however, the quote is far more relevant. Lucius had been right; Malfoy couldn't go around proclaiming unrequited love for a boy… A boy he barely, really, knew, at that… He had more than himself to think about; after all, he had the future to consider. He's career (if one could call it that), he's family and, indeed, he's very reputation.
Ron bought him out of his depressing thoughts. A tattered and no doubt borrowed potions book, in one hand, and a crooked, rather queer looking wand, in the other. Oblivious to the workings of his Potion's partner's dark mind, he reluctantly sat in the chair next to his Malfoy's. "Let's just get this stupid little project over with, yeah?"
Malfoy spat back his response, "my thoughts exactly, Weasley." He hated this pretence, longed to hold back the bitter side remarks that he'd grown all too accustomed to. For now, he couldn't.
Still, his hormones managed to get the better of him, and he was a little too happy to notice that the Weasley boy had left his fly undone. On the day he chose to go au-natural, of all days. Though the view was limited, the hours of double Potions that were to follow suddenly seemed far more… compelling, to Malfoy.