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Chapter 1: Nothing
His face was soft and tender, with tendrils of blonde wisps framing it at the sides. His voice was calm and mellow, as though he breathed into each word a tinge of his very essence and which made it all the more sweeter.
I just never could get enough of him. The way he strutted Hogwarts' halls like he owned them, his nose up high in the air and his robe billowing. Watching him walk was like watching sexual artistry in motion. His hips swayed, and mile long legs stretched out and ended where his dragon boots began.
He's been out since, well, he's always been out for being gay was accepted in the wizarding community. However, I've been oblivious to it until third year when I heard some older male students talking about being his first. He looked feminine enough to warrant as a girl so it didn't come as much of a surprise that he was gay and that males were attracted to him.
It surprised me, however, because I've never looked at him like that and never thought of looking at him like that. To me, he's always been Malfoy, the pointy blonde git that loves to torment people.
I would never admit then that I've changed the way I see him. With Voldemort still loose, it wasn't all that hard to distract myself and keep my attraction in denial.
My musings were interrupted when Ron asked me to pass the chicken. I gave it to him, then, looked up as Draco Malfoy entered the Great Hall.
All the guys fell over themselves just watching him pass by, some of the girls looked with depressed and longing stares knowing they didn't have a chance and other girls rolled their eyes in envy and jealousy.
And I?
I just sat at the Gryffindor table with my friends, watching him glide by from the corner of my eye.
It had been like this everyday.
Sometimes, during Care of Magical Creatures, I'd be slouched against a tree, paying no heed to whatever Hermione and Ron was trying to say, with one foot steadied behind the other. My fingers, broad and calloused with years of Quidditch were always shoved into my robe as I surveyed the school grounds waiting for the class to begin.
A blank look, not one of confusion but one of trying to appear to be paying attention and failing miserably would acclaim my face. I would stare out at everyone else, watching as students made their way to class. Then, there he would be strutting down the grounds with Slytherins behind.
His eyes would dart around the class before his gaze would land on me.
I'd still for a minute when those silver orbs would stare into my green ones. And for that one moment, his eyes would catch mine, and the brief tug at the corner of his pink lips and a nod he gave would melt my heart.
It used to be a glare but we've put our petty rivalry to the side once the war started during our fifth year. Now, at our seventh year, we weren't rivals anymore nor were we friends, just merely acquaintances.
This brief acknowledgement would last only for a minute before he regains his senses that he's Draco Malfoy.
And then I'd go back to being just Harry Potter again.
Today, however, everything changed.
Hushed whispers permeated Hogwarts' grounds that Monday morning, and raucous gossip was ablaze.
There he was, right in the middle of the hall, with Blaise Zabini.
And he was smiling—he was laughing.
And together they were walking hand in hand to their classes.
It was scandal personified, really.
He went to class the morning with the biggest grin on his face and his eyes shone with an emotion that no one could really decipher. He giggled like a schoolgirl in love, and it scared everyone around him. Draco Malfoy was no longer the slytherin ice prince with his cold, hard demeanor rather those images were broken by the warm smiles he wore on his face.
It was pleasant, indeed, seeing him smile so openly.
But it was wrong, so wrong.
It wasn't supposed to be Zabini standing right next to him, cracking the stupidest jokes and making him shake with laughter. It wasn't supposed to be Zabini who carried his books and made him look at Zabini like he never wanted to blink.
That was supposed to be me.
But even as lunch dwindled to seventh period, I still watched him in Transfiguration. And seeing him bob his head up and down, conscientiously writing down notes, noting the single lock that escaped from behind her ear, made my insides hurt.
It was like a dull ache that nagged, kind of like the feeling of a cramp when one stretched a muscle too far. And he'd done precisely that to my heart, taking one end and pulling it taut until all feeling in me evaporated with the stretch, leaving nothing but bitter remains.
I couldn't have him. He wasn't mine.
And I knew why, all of a sudden when Transfiguration ended and everyone filed out of the classroom. As I was on my way to the common room, I saw the lively red-head waiting for me, leaning against the wall and smiling at me, before reaching out to envelope me in a hug and a kiss.
It had dawned upon me just then. The very distinct smell of sweetness of Ginny rushed through my being. And as I pulled away to search her eyes, I knew it was all because of this very girl I was now holding in my arms.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Draco walking pass us. I knew where he was headed because I'd overheard him telling Zabini about borrowing a potions book from the library. And so I made up an excuse to Ginny, kissed her cheek half heartedly, and raced off to chase after him.
The library was only a short distance away, and I saw his robes disappearing into the doors. Racing towards it, my pulse leaped as I caught the whiff of his fragrance- sweet, musky and innocent all at the same time- a scent that can only be described as his, and it was the very thing that got my palms watering.
I pushed open the doors, noting that there was hardly anybody around and thanked god that Hermione wasn't here if only to avoid confrontations as to what I was doing in the library. Something Ron and I were always trying to avoid and that she would always force us to do.
He disappeared around a corner to a shelf, and I made my way over, peeping over shelves to catch a better look at him. There were two people in the same isle, and I waited until he and I were the only two left. Then following him out, I grabbed him and pushed him into the nearest corner of the library, where nobody else could see.
"Potter?" His voice was a sharp, incredulous squeak, and he looked between my grasp on him and my eyes. I nodded, then bent my head down low so my forehead pressed against his. Our noses touched, and he closed his eyes and moved away from my touch. I stared at him, unrelenting.
"What are you doing?" he said with confused silver eyes.
And then I breathed the words I have been longing to say to him, "I love you."
He looked at me like I was crazy, biting his lower lip adorably the way he always did when he was nervous.
"Wha—? How? You? But the Weaselett—" he started, but I cut him off.
"Don't."
My voice was desperately seeking for something, anything from him. But there was nothing.
It was everything.
"Okay." he said, like he was trying to think. "Are you sure?" he asked a little timidly.
"Yes." I said.
"I don't know wha—" again he started but I cut him off. "Please…" I begged.
"Tell me you feel this." I said as I grabbed his slender, soft and perfect hands.
His and my hands fit so perfectly together that I knew he had to feel what's between us.
"You're... a great guy, Potter, but…" he trailed off and bowed his head when I squeezed his hand gently.
"Tell me the truth, Draco." I said pointedly using his first name.
I moved forward. Bringing myself closer to him. Cupping his face, I gently pulled it up so that I could look at him.
"I like you, Harry." He said after a moment. His voice had gone really soft.
I nodded a little. I could barely contain my glee as I noted that he used my first name this time. And I could see that he wasn't lying.
Those feelings — the same desire I had — swimming in that mercuric eyes were too real to ever be anything but the truth.
In a moment though, it was gone as his masked slipped and he shook his head, moving out of my grasp.
"Look, I'm tired, Potter. I have a lot of things on my mind now- Newts, classes, Quidditch... Blaise." he directed the last part at me, and my fingers trembled as they gripped his wrist.
"You have time for Zabini, but you don't have time for me?"
He shook his head.
"It's complicated. You and I... we can't-" he struggled for a word. "I just can't, okay?"
He tried to leave then, but I pinned him down against the wall and kissed him. His lips were undeniably soft and pliant against my own, and I struggled to keep my hands from moving to cup his chin. He broke away first, breathing and yet not making a sound.
"Can't, or wont?" I nearly gasped, my words resolute.
He sighed and pressed his palm against my chest, moving away.
"I don't know." came his whisper, "And that's what scares me."
I moved, letting him go, knowing that if I pushed him, he'd be lost forever.
He walked away then, making my heart sink further into an abyss. Barely without a goodbye, too.
I stared at the pale, thin blonde as his boots clicked slowly out of the library, feeling my eyes prick with tears from an unknown sensation.
Suddenly, I knew why they called it a broken heart. It felt like pieces inside me were shattering, and the part of my chest, which he had pushed on to leave—still burned with his heat and hurt with an intensified pressure. I wished desperately for it to be gone, undone—anything. But it stuck within me like a splinter.
I don't know why I watched him still. But it felt like a dagger in my heart, and every step he took toward the door twisted it in further and deeper.
His platinum blonde hair was the last thing that disappeared out of the library.
I hadn't known it was going to feel like this. No warning signs, no red flare signals. Nothing but the hurt of unrequited love.
The ray of sunlight that peered through the window near me caught my eye, and I felt drawn to it for some reason. I looked out through it, seeing various members of the student body hanging around, enjoying the lazy feel of the afternoon.
And then I saw him, slipping his hands into Zabini's. They moved towards the Quidditch pitch, and I stood at the window still looking out, even after they had disappeared from sight.
It felt like a dream, all this. And like a dream, it had ended. I comforted myself in the knowledge that even if I'd never come across another boy, or anybody really, even remotely similar to Draco Malfoy, that at least I'd still have the memory of it all.
I closed my eyes, consoled at once, and the dream, of his blonde hair, pink lips, flawless skin and the scent that lingered all around him, began again.
It was during that precise moment, as I recalled our kiss, that I opened my eyes with a look fierce determination.
I wasn't ready to let him go. I haven't even had him in the first place.
I have been a fool to refuse his hand once when I was naïve and young, but I have grown wise enough not to let him go for a second time because this time I couldn't blame his cold attitude for my unhappiness.
It was my turn to offer him my hand like he did the first time I ever saw him, although not just for friendship because I was more than prepared to be something more.
I am willing to do everything in my power to convince him and nothing can stop me.
Nothing.
TBC…
A/N: Well, that's it. Please read and review if you really liked it and if you want me to continue this. I would really appreciate knowing that this wasn't just a waste of time. Oh, I also have another H/D fic posted. You can R/R it if you'd like. Just click on my bio…
Silverdragon4736