Disclaimer: Of course I own Harry Potter! This questioning is preposterous! And the song? Yeah…I don't own that. Plumb sang that. But Harry Potter's mine! D'ya hear me, JK? MINE! Ahem.

Warnings: Well, this is my first HP fic. Is that warning enough? ^_^

Notes: So here I was, with little time and too much to do. I was stressed, so what's the only option left? Procrastinate. And listen to Plumb. *firm nod*

BOYS DON'T CRY

Father, if you can see me now, I'm sure you'll laugh at me. Either that or beat me up so bad, I'll gnaw on my intestines for sustenance. Weasely would surely have a field day with this. Me. Draco Malfoy, the only heir to the Malfoy fortune and the lovely business of being a death eater was reduced to this poor excuse of a life.

Maybe I did deserve it. After all, I wasn't exactly Mr. Sunshine to everyone. But it still hurts. Besides, it wasn't always the case. I can be nice. I've proven it. Heck, even the Mudblood can attest to that. But where did this get me?

Here.

You sit there on the couch

Sipping your scotch and ice

You turn the TV on

And tune me out again

I walk out of the kitchen and into the common area, shutting the door to the bedroom as I went pass it. A few years back, even the sight of the bedroom would give me a hard-on, but now? Now is not a few years back. A few years back can be considered yesterday and there's no point in dwelling on yesterday.

I suppose you're on the same boat as me on this, huh?

Slowly, but trying to make as much noise as possible, I make my way across the room to where you sat and give you a kiss on the forehead. Did I get a reaction? Of course, I did. If you can call it that. You look up for a bit and then turn back to what you were doing, as if a mosquito just landed on you.

Ignoring this, I sat back a few. You're tired, all the work you did all day must make you tired. Surely, even The Boy Who Lived gets tired, right?

Leaning back, I reached for your back and start to massage lightly. You stiffen at my touch, but soon, I feel your muscles relax as I continue down your back and up again. "How was your day?"

What was that? Hopeless attempt at small talk? Ah, I see.

"Fine." You say, picking up your drink. You take a small sip and was instantly back to the TV show you're watching.

I honestly never got those stupid things. What's the point in watching muggles go about doing stupid things when you can just apparate to places and do something that's actually entertaining?

But that's your tradition, isn't it? Try as I might, I still can't believe you grew up in a very muggle world. You. The famous Harry Potter didn't know of any bit of magic until he turned 12 and got accepted to Hogwarts. What a joke.

But jokes are supposed to be funny, right? I totally forgot.

I continue to massage and feel every tension melt under my touch. Ahh, the famous Malfoy charm is still on full force. Nice to know some things never change. "Work was…killer today. Everyone was in a flurry about…something. I didn't really catch what was happening since the—"

"Draco. I'm watching."

Oh. Of course, I'm sorry for disturbing you in this momentous experience. Maybe I've softened over the years, or maybe it's because I just have a soft spot for you in general, but I know when I'm not needed. Of course, the blatant interruption of my interesting woe and the jerking away from my touch did help a bit to that. Standing up, I cross the room, making sure to walk in front of the TV just to remind you that I am, in fact, still here, and sit on the couch, staring at you.

So what would you say to me

If you could talk to me

You could ask anything

I wouldn't lie

The minutes tick by and here I am, still waiting for you to acknowledge my presence in any way. It's really pathetic and if anyone saw me sitting here, no doubt they'd roll over and drop dead. Me, Draco Lucius Malfoy, waiting patiently for a word, a phrase, anything that would indicate that Harry Potter knew I was in the same breathing space as he.

It's a bit sad, actually. You used to look at me with such ardor that it can send me to a disgusting goo on the floor in three seconds flat, but now all your looks are directed intently on the TV. If I'd known you went for that type, I'd change my body figure. Surely a box-shaped body won't hurt.

If only that means I can have your undivided attention like I did before.

I must've been sitting there, spaced out for quite a while because when I came to, the TV was off and there you are, standing by the door that led to the hallway, giving me an impatient look. "Are you coming?"

Flashing a grin, I say, "Of course I am, keep your pants on."

Well, at least I've been noticed.

But you're okay with this

Damagin awkwardness

So, I'll just keep playing safe

And keep it inside

'Cause boys don't cry

I knew I was hoping for too much when I threw my arms around you and started nuzzling on your neck, thinking that this would be the night.

The night. Now that's a joke I haven't heard in ages. The night for what? The night where you'd actually slow down enough to do the required foreplay? The night you won't just slam me against the headboard and fuck me 'till my ass bleeds like a virgin? The night we make love?

I can't even remember the last time we made love. Lately, it seems like every contact that we have that can even be considered sexual is all about fulfilling some carnal urge. A sick pleasure you derive from seeing me in pain as I writhe under you, in the pretense of enjoyment.

I suppose tonight won't be the night, then. The firm grasp you have on my wrist as you yank me off you and threw me across the bed told me that. I wince when my head connected with the headboard, but I didn't shout. No, I didn't even give a squeak. Not a sign that I'm getting hurt, right? If I show one little indication that I am not enjoying what we're doing, I may not like the consequences to it. So I shut up and endure. After all, what's a little bruise to a night of animal passion?

I never thought, in my whole life, that I'd even be remotely scared of seeing you undress in front of me. But right now, seeing you yanking your belt and unzipping your pants give me goosebumps. I feel the chill run up my arms when you start on your shirt and edge toward me. "Strip." You say huskily. It can be considered sexy, really, if only you didn't have that menacing look on your face as you crawl to where you threw me haphazardly on the bed.

Slowly, I get on my knees and scrunch up the sexiest smirk I can come up with and slowly let my hands travel down the buttons of my shirt, taking my time. You look on in earnest, as if feeling so hungry at the sight of my doing things like stripteasing.

And then the hand came.

Ha. As if. Draco, you idiot. No foreplay remember? When he says you strip, It means you can rip your clothes off for all he cares, just do it fast and do it now because the slower you are, the more you get hurt.

After that, everything just happened in mechanical fashion. Kind of like a dream that bordered on being a nightmare. You see things happening, but you can't stop it. Like being bound to some invisible pole or something.

I used to hold your hand

So tight there was no question

But now even when you are near

I've never felt so alone

I don't remember much when it happens, but maybe it's because I only need the first time and I know that it's imprinted somewhere in there for an eternity. You'd rip my clothes off, I'd mourn over them for a while, but then you'd distract me by assaulting whatever part of me is nearest to you.

And then, it begins.

At first, it can be chalked up to raging hormones and an urgency no one can even begin to describe and then it starts to get scary and I'd force myself to tune out. Close my eyes and imagine that this isn't really happening. That you're actually showering me with kisses and tender touches and asking me if I'm alright.

And then, just as quickly as it started, it ended. Giving a final grunt, you fall on top of me and pant. Rolling my head to face you, I try to wipe the sweat off your face and kiss you with all I the love I can muster. Just to let you know.

I'm here. I'm not ever going.

If you just stand beside me

I'll keep you in my life

Tell me how much you love me

And I'll be just fine

Don't be afraid of me

Slowly, you pull away and turn over. The moment we had (if you can call it that) vanished to nothing. All I have is the scent of what had been. I want to reach over and hold you, like I did before. Like you did before.

What happened, Harry? What happened to what we had that sent it flying off the roof only to leave us with this? Whatever this is.

I once told you that I'd stay by your side forever as long as you'd want me. Oh, wait. It was you who said that. Well, I need you now. But where are you? You're here, but where are you?

Gingerly, I turn over to my side and face the wall. I guess it's gone now. Evaporated. Lost into oblivion.

It's so sad, really.

AN: Damn. This WAS NOT how it was supposed to be. But…it's been done. And I'm too sleepy to redo this. But, damn, Draco's (and Harry, too, come to think of it) so OOC there! Well, whatcha think? Did I pass? ^_^