A love unrequited
He hates her. Absolutely, positively hates her.
Okay, so that's a bit of a lie. He doesn't hate her, quite the opposite in fact. And that is why he hates her.
Dislikes her, slightly. Only a little bit.
Perhaps not even at all.
The point is...okay, so he doesn't exactly know his point. But he knows, for absolute certain, that he'd be much better off if he did hate her. Because perhaps then it wouldn't be so bloody difficult to be her friend. Her just friend. Nothing-and by nothing, he means absolutely nothing-is worse than falling in love with your best friend, knowing full well that you can't have her.
That's right, love.
That sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he sees her. The flush that covers his cheeks when he catches himself staring; praying that she doesn't catch him too. That anger-pure and raw and animalistic-when she's with him. That feeling of jealousy when he touches her, or kisses her, or holds her bloody fucking hand.
He's never hated anybody more than Ronald Weasley.
He's never hated himself more either.
His 23rd birthday falls on a Saturday. So naturally, everyone decides to take him out on the town-and by 'everyone' he means Hermione, Ginny and Potter. Weasley couldn't care less about his birthday. Luna pretty much does whatever anyone wants her to do. And Neville is basically neutral. At first he isn't even sure he wants to go out-or even celebrate. But then the more he thinks on it, the more he realizes that perhaps it's exactly what he needs. Perhaps all he needs is a night on the town, a little bit of hard liquor and a couple of beautiful ladies to keep him company. Perhaps this...thing...he feels for Granger is just that after all. A thing.
And yet he spends the first part of the night watching Hermione and Weasley practically get it on in a booth in the corner of the pub. Okay, so she's much too reserved to get anything on in a public place, but Weasley keeps on trying and trying and trying, and all Draco wants to do is rip him apart.
He downs his sixth shot of the night when someone sits next to him. That someone has black hair and glasses, and that I-know-what-you're-doing look. "What?" he snaps.
"You're in love with her."
Draco blinks, staring at him. "I'm sorry, in love with who?"
"Hermione."
The blond hesitates (which he'll realize later is his downfall), shifting uncomfortably on the bar stool as he stares into the empty shot glass. "Don't be ridiculous, of course I'm not."
"I'm not a genius, but I'm not an idiot either Malfoy. I've seen the way you look at her."
Draco clears his throat. "Alright, let's for arguments sake say that I am in love with her. So what?"
Harry shrugs, crossing his arms over the top of the bar counter. "Nothing. I was just making an observation, that's all."
"You're an arse, Potter."
"So you are then."
"Not for long."
"Oh? And how will you manage that?"
"Simple. My charm and good looks of course."
Harry snorts loudly. "Alright."
"I'm going home with someone tonight Potter. You'll see."
And he does. Go home with someone, that is. And that someone is a busty blonde, who is quite...talented, in certain...areas. And yet he spends the whole time wishing he was with her.
X
He wonders sometimes if she knows. And then he stops wondering because he knows it's no use.
She's happy. And that's all that matters, right?
It's a Saturday when his entire world changes. He's only been awake for ten minutes when she walks into his flat, clad in a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He looks at her skeptically at first. "Hey, did uhh...did we have plans?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck guiltily.
She laughs softly, rolling her eyes. "No. But if we did, you'd be in a huge amount of trouble," she teases.
He breathes a sigh of relief, smiling at her. "Alright then, what brings you here on this fine Saturday morning?"
She shakes her head playfully, placing her hands on her hips and straightening herself out. "Notice anything different about me?"
He cocks an eyebrow, looking her up and down skeptically. Merlin, she's fantastic. He takes a moment to take in her curvy figure. Focus, he tells himself. Focus. "No..." he trails off hesitantly, eyeing her suspiciously.
"Look closer," she replies.
And he does. The second he sees it, his stomach hits the floor and he's fairly certain his heart stops beating. He almost stops breathing too. The silver piece of jewelry around her left ring finger glares at him and the diamond attached to it twinkles in the sunlight seeping in through the living room window, taunting him. He can hear it now, Weasley's annoying little voice boasting. He blinks, his gaze snapping up to her face and then back down at the ring. "He proposed..."
She squeals then, very unlike herself, as she throws her arms around his shoulders. He barely feels her body colliding with his because all he feels is numb. He forces himself to wrap his arms around her waist.
"Isn't it great?" she exclaims excitedly. She pulls away from him, taking a second to admire the ring before walking around him towards the kitchen. "I was just telling Ginny the other day that I didn't think he'd ever propose, and then last night he took me out for dinner and-"
He stops listening. Her voice is like white noise to him as his life flashes before his eyes. His cold, lonely life. He sees himself, single and miserable, while she has children and lives a long, happy life with him. He sees himself on the outside, looking in. Just as it's always been. And he hates it. He hates the thought of her being with someone else-anyone else but him. More importantly he hates himself not being able to be with her. That jealousy and rage bubbles inside him and he thinks for a moment that he might explode.
"-you have no idea how much this means to me Draco. I've been waiting for this for...my entire life," she says softly, smiling to herself. He watches her intently. "I mean, I know it doesn't seem like I care about that traditional love stuff, but it's nice, you know? To know that somebody loves you like that, it's...well, there's nothing like it."
He smiles firmly, his lips thin and tense. Forced.
She plops herself down on the couch, patting the cushion beside her with a smile and he obliges grudgingly. "I'm getting married Draco!"
"You are getting married-"
"There's gonna be so much to plan. You'll help, right?"
"Me? I dunno Granger-"
"Oh, c'mon! You have to!" she insists.
"I don't think I can-"
"Ginny's my maid of honor so she'll be taking care of mostly everything with me, but I'll need your opinion to," she says softly.
He sighs, pushing himself to his feet and running his hands through his hair. He wants to say no. He wants to flat out refuse to have anything to do with it. But then he looks at her, and she's giving him that look. That look he loves and hates at the same time. "You don't need me."
"You're one of my best friends Draco, I'll always want your opinion."
He smirks inwardly, because he knows that if he were to give her his honest opinion, she'd hate it.
"Please? It would mean the world to me," she whispers.
He groans, rubbing his hands over his face. "Okay, yeah. Fine."
She squeals again, even more unlike herself than the first time. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Ahhh! This is so exciting, I can't believe this is happening," she murmurs, more to herself than anything.
And as she continues to ramble on and on about the upcoming wedding, Draco sits back down on the couch and wonders, quite bitterly, when Merlin will stop torturing him.
X
He wants to kill himself. Okay, so killing himself seems a bit drastic, doesn't it? Yes. But he definitely wants to hex himself.
Yes, hexing himself sounds about right.
It's one thing, he realizes, for a man to be sitting in a wedding gown shop waiting for his best mate to finish trying on dozens of different gowns. But it's an entirely different thing for said man to be in love with said best mate-a bride that could never be his.
She's beautiful. Stunning really, in every single dress. She's got that 'bridal' glow about her and that dazzling smile and she just looks so...happy. And he just feels so bloody miserable. (Honestly, what did he ever do to deserve this kind of heart break? That's a rhetorical question...)
He sits, dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and an old polo shirt, on a couch outside of her dressing room. His arms are crossed over his chest as he stares straight ahead at the glass coffee table in front of him. Shouldn't Ginny be here? Or her mother? Or even Potter? Why did she have to choose him, of all people, to pick out her wedding gown?
Out of the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of pure white and his gaze follows it to the side as Hermione emerges from behind her dressing room curtain in another white gown. All of the other ones looked the same, but this one...this one is different. As opposed to girly and frilly and extravagant, this one is classic and elegant and...Merlin, is it hot in here all of a sudden? And where did all the oxygen go?
His eyes are glued to her, unable to look away and yet wanting so desperately to run in the other direction. This is torture. Absolute, heart crushing torture.
"Can you do me up?" she asks, turning around so that her back is to him.
He swallows the lump in his throat as he steps forward, lifting shaky hands to do up the zipper on the back of her dress. The back dips down so low, even after doing up the zipper, that it almost makes his imagination run wild. Her skin is soft and smooth under his knuckles when they brush against her back to do up the clasp. She smells like vanilla and cherries and her hair is pulled back into a sloppy pony tail, showing off the smooth curve of her shoulders and her neck. It would be so easy, he thinks, to dip his head down and kiss her neck…
He clears his throat as he pulls himself back, afraid of what he might do if he lingers any longer.
She turns back around, smiling as she walks around him to the small podium, looking at herself in the various mirrors. "So what do you think?"
He blinks, staring at her through the mirror.
"Draco?"
"Hmm?"
"What do you think?"
"I think you should've tried this on ages ago," he replies casually, shoving his hands into his pockets.
She smiles, swaying from side to side to check all angles on the dress and the way it falls down to the floor. "I think this is the one."
He smiles back, despite the pain of jealousy ripping through him.
"Plus I think Ron'll love it," she gushes happily.
He nods, walking back to the couch to sit down. He can't keep looking at her when she's looking like that-all beautiful and flawless and so completely off limits. He might do something he'll regret otherwise, and she might never speak to him again. Closing his eyes, to shake away the thoughts and feelings plaguing him, he leans forward with his head in his hands.
"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice suddenly deeper and worried.
"Yeah, just tired," he mutters.
"Are you sure?" she asks skeptically as she walks around the couch to sit beside him.
"Are you sure you should be sitting in that dress-"
"It's fine. And stop changing the subject. You've been acting weird for weeks now," she notes.
Gee, I wonder why, he thinks bitterly. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not. I know you, Draco. And I know when something's bothering you, so tell me."
"There's nothing to tell."
"Draco..."
"Just leave it alone, okay?" he yells, pushing himself to his feet rather suddenly. She jumps slightly, startled. "Contrary to popular belief Granger, you don't need to know everything because not everything is about you," he snaps.
And he regrets it immediately. Especially when she frowns, looking away as she pushes herself to her feet. Guilt washes over him as she glances back at her reflection one last time before disappearing into her change room and pulls the curtain closed. He sighs, leaning against the wall next to the curtain. "I'm sorry," he says softly, realizing he's never snapped at her like that before. Not since their rival days at Hogwarts anyway. "It's just...it's something I need to work through on my own, you know?"
He knows by her silence that she understands because if she didn't, she'd tell him.
X
He hasn't seen her in weeks. And for the first time it's not because he's been avoiding her. It's because she's been avoiding him. At first it might've been a blessing. She was giving him the space he had so desperately needed. And yet now that he's got it, he doesn't want it.
It's a Tuesday, three weeks before the set date of the wedding, when he corners her in her office. She tries to dismiss him by saying that she's far too busy to talk, but he ignores her, leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.
"Will you just, please, go?" she begs of him, not even looking up from her desk.
"Sorry, no can do. See, you've been avoiding me and I want to know why," he tells her.
"Well, I suppose now you know how it feels," she mutters.
He smirks, knowing he deserves that. "Regardless, I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me."
She glares up at him. "Me, talk to you? Well that's rich, considering you're the one who won't tell me what's wrong with you," she reminds him.
"So that's what this is about. You're mad because you can't figure it out."
"I'm mad because I tell you everything, and you can't even tell me what has your mind so bloody worked up that you can't even look me in eye!" she yells, pushing herself to her feet.
He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. "You really wanna know? You really wanna know what I'm thinking?"
"Yes."
"You really wanna know what's on my mind?"
"Y-Yes." She stutters, like she isn't quite sure she really wants to know anymore.
"Fine. I think you're mad," he tells her honestly. "I think you're making the biggest mistake of your life right now by marrying Weasley. I think you can do so much better than him and you don't even realize it." He walks across the room, stopping in front of her. "There is so much for you to be doing, so much that you can do and gain. And you're settling for a...Weasel who has no idea what he has. He doesn't treat you the way you deserve to be treated but you're either too blind or too stupid to realize it-"
"-you don't know what you're talking about-"
"I also think that there could be a hundred guys out there waiting for their chance with you, knowing they can be better for you than some poor, red headed Weasel, but they'll never get the chance because you're too scared to admit that you're not really as happy as you could be. Content, sure, but not happy."
She bites the inside of her cheek, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly. "Okay, fine. Enlighten me. If there's so many men out there who want to be with me, then why haven't I met them yet, huh?"
He smirks, shrugging his shoulders. "Perhaps you already have, and you just don't realize it."
"Oh yeah? And who would-"
He kisses her. He doesn't know why he thinks it's a good idea, particularly because he knows it's a very bad idea, but one second she's looking at him all wounded and demanding and the next, he's kissing her. His hands are cupping her face and his lips are firm, but tentative upon hers. Her lips are soft and silky and plump. He runs his tongue along her bottom lip, begging for entrance. She moans, and he takes advantage of it, slipping his tongue into her mouth as her arms slip around his neck and pulls him closer. He moans back, tasting her and savoring her and wishing to fucking Merlin that he could keep her.
She pulls away first, pushing back on his chest, gasping for air. "Wha...what was that?"
"I'm that man," he whispers, his voice hoarse.
Her eyes widen in shock and then narrow in confusion as she backs away, shaking her head silently. "You...no, no...you can't."
He clears his throat, backing away towards the door. "I should go..." And with that he turns on his heel, too much of a coward to tell her how he really feels.