A/N: Ohohoho, she updates!
With angst. Whut. I dunno. :(
014Mirror
Simply Not.
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"We're both men, Potter, there is no relationship." The blond's tone was cool, detached. Harry noted the drips of disdain that laced the man's words. He pulled the belt around his hips, threading them through expensive pinstripe. Almost completely dressed, already.
Harry frowns, nervous fingers shuffling the sheets around him. He hates the way Malfoy says it, even if it's true. There is no emotion in that voice, nothing to hint that the man before him was human at all. Draco never stayed.
His heart always stung after the traces of orgasm had ebbed away—the guilt of neglecting others made him wonder if these intimate meetings with the former Slytherin were really worth it.
"We should stop this." replied Harry dully, arms too heavy to reach his wand. "It's becoming a little pointless, right?"
There is no response from Draco when the dark-haired man looks up. He buttons the dress-shirt and casts an ironing spell to make it pristine once more. Finally, the blond turns to the Gryffindor, silver eyes empty and sterile—and shrugs.
"Do what you want."
He hates that gaze. It was neither condescending nor amused, but rather infuriatingly devoid of anything that had been there before. The Gryffindor always notices something, even when the blond man is shivering beneath him. Malfoy's eyes never change.
Harry was simply not the person that Draco wanted to see.
Harry was never the one reflected in his eyes.