by star of david
You.
I gaze at you from afar, torn apart by the distance of about three feet that separates us. I see merely a profile of you, yet it is more than enough to keep me satisfied for the next few seconds. I look at your cheek, and forbidden images of my lips touching your white skin enter my head. I hear your strong voice, and I marvel at the conviction and confidence you have.
Once again, you have given an impeccable answer and are applauded by all. You take your seat. The show is over. I have to look towards the front again, while you remain behind me. I am left unable to gaze upon the perfection that is you.
We are dismissed for Potions, but I have, once again, to have a little talk with the Potions master. I steal a look towards you, and you catch me looking at you. A preemptive chill runs down my spine – surely, your gray eyes will emit nothing but cold and hatred.
But this time, they do not.
I steal a look towards you, and you catch me looking at you. Your beautiful gray eyes send me a sweet message, one more satisfying than any dessert the Great Hall had to offer. You smile, and I return it, small though it was.
I fail to listen to the Potions Master's instructions, and am eternally grateful that my friend got it down for me. He, however, has failed to notice you and your lovely eyes.
After the little chat, I tell him to go ahead. I pretend to fix my belongings stuffed inside my school bag to let my nerves calm down a bit. Easy, Harry, I tell myself. Don't fall so easily.
I make my way out of the dungeon, and I see you outside the dungeon doors, casually leaning on the cold wall, the torchlight reflected in your eyes that seem like everlasting pools of eternity. How I would love to drown in those pools.
So, you begin. Are you eating lunch?
Yes. I respond with a simple word, keeping things neutral.
Do you want to eat together?
I am caught off-guard, and I stop dead in my tracks. I give you a disbelieving look. You want to eat with me?
Yes, Harry, you reply simply. Is there anything wrong with that?
Well…yes…kind of…seeing that we've always been fierce enemies ever since… I stammer helplessly. I can't believe it. Draco Malfoy wants to eat with me.
You take my hand in yours. Your smooth skin comes in contact with my calloused-from-Quidditch hand, and everything seems to melt away. You slip your long, graceful fingers in between mine and tighten your grasp, squeezing my hand ever so affectionately. My heart starts thumping like mad.
And then I wake up.
It was all a dream.
There was never warmth in your smile. There was never a sweet message conveyed through your gray eyes – which will always remain cold. There will never be a time when your silky skin will come in contact with my own.
I turn my head to the side.
I see you beside me. In my bed, beside me, looking at me.
You seemed to be having quite a nice dream, love, you say. You give me an affectionate kiss on my right cheek. Go back to sleep now, and get more rest.
It's not just a dream anymore, after all.