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A/N I put up the rating for this chapter just to be safe... I don't want to be getting in trouble.
The characters change somewhat in this chapter but they had to change for the story to go anywhere so I tried to keep it as realistic as possible. I probably failed...but oh well, you get that with the big jobs. :D

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I saw him for the first time in three days today. I hadn't seen him since I found him in the Owlery, when he told me he cared. Told me he wanted to understand me. Needed to understand me. When he touched me willingly, pulled me close to him. I had been aching to see him since then and luckily Tuesday brings our first Potions lesson of the week. Fortunately there were no incidents. I'd hate for something to happen in front of the whole class, particularly in front of Snape. He still watches me though, with his amazing green eyes. Watches my every action. It doesn't make me feel entirely uncomfortable, it's rather nice to have his attention, especially when the attention isn't the bad kind of attention I tend to attract. It's even nicer because I'm no longer scared of what I'll find in his eyes when I look into them. But his continual watching does make me considerably self-conscious of everything I do. Everything I say. No one has ever had that effect on me before. Except perhaps my Father.


My Father would be sickened to his every core if he knew what I had done. Words cannot describe the trouble I'd be in if he found out how I felt. Particularly that I feel them for a boy. And not just any boy, he'd probably be able to deal with that. But a boy named Harry James Potter. A boy who has caused him more grief in the past 17 years than is imaginable. A boy who was the downfall of his Master, not just once, but twice.


I suppose in a way he is like my saviour. If it weren't for him I would have a hideous skull tainting my skin. Tainting my whole life, my whole world. But I'd never admit that to another living soul. Except of course for the one who saved me.


A long hot bath always helps me forget. I can submerge under the water and hear nothing except my heart beat. So a long hot bath is what I plan for tonight. It's better late at night because it's more likely the Prefect's Bathroom won't be occupied. Being a Prefect does have its perks. The Head Boy position would have been better though. My own room. My own bathroom. But even Dumbledore wouldn't give that position to a Malfoy who is the Son of a convicted Death Eater. And not just any Death Eater, but Voldemort's right-hand man at that. I don't blame him really.


I shudder just thinking about it as I pass Boris the Bewildered and whisper the password to gain entrance to the bathroom. Empty. Just what I'd hoped for. The Prefect's Bathroom is one of my favourite rooms in the Castle. It's one of the only places I can truly relax and try to forget everything. I think I probably spent most of last year here. Last year being the hardest year of my life.


I turn on the taps and water starts flooding into the swimming pool sized bath. I choose vanilla scented bubbles and the room instantly fills with the fragrance. I always watch the bath fill. It's a very successful relaxing technique. The water flowing freely, the continual bubbling sound as the bath slowly fills. I've always loved water. Some of the fondest memories of my childhood are that of my Mother bathing me. I can still imagine the sensation of her hands in my hair washing the shampoo away. It's been a long time since I've experienced that kind of affection. Affection, love and caring, according to my Father weakens a person. I think the lack of affection, love and caring in my life has made me weaker in a sense. I'm still a fairly strong person emotionally and physically, although I do crave affection. But it's just that my feelings towards my parents have weakened. Towards everything they've ever stood for and believed in. And in the eyes of my Father that is weak and pathetic.


The water filling the bath suddenly stops and the lack of noise brings me out of my thoughts. I stand up and begin unbuttoning my shirt. Last year I turned to physical exercise to help me forget about my Father and Mother, about my life. It kept me occupied when I wasn't in class, doing homework or playing Quidditch. It was a kind of release for all the built up anger I had inside me. The exercise certainly improved my Quidditch and unfortunately caused half the female population of Hogwarts to stand up and take notice.


The cotton material slides off my shoulders and falls to the ground in a heap but the sound of a door shutting stops me from continuing to undress. I spin around and find myself looking at a very surprised looking Harry Potter. His eyes are riveted to the spot. Riveted on me. A small smirk creeps onto my features as I realise this time it was *me* that has caused him to fall into a stupor. I notice a pink flush rise in his cheeks and it takes all my self-control to not let a huge grin spread over my lips. He shakes his head ever so slightly then shifts his eyes to the bath.


"Sorry. I didn't realise anyone was in here. There was no locking charm." My smirk disappears as I realise when I came through the door I was so consumed by my own thoughts that I totally forgot about a locking charm.


"It's alright. I forgot to put the charm on the door, it's my fault." My eyes rake over his body. He is wearing a white t-shirt and muggle jeans and I wonder what brings him to the bathroom this late at night. Especially since he isn't a Prefect.


"What are you doing here anyway? You aren't a Prefect." I decided to voice my thoughts and he gives me a small smile. I feel my heart skip a beat. He's never smiled at me before.


"Ron gives me the password because he knows it's one of the only places I can be alone to think…and forget." Of course. Weasley is a Prefect. Why wouldn't he share the password with his best friend? It's obvious he comes here late at night, just like me, but I've never once seen him.


"How long have you been coming here then?"


"Since last year. But I came here once in my Fourth year."


"Fourth year? How did you get in here then?" It's evident he participates in a lot more rule breaking than anyone is aware of.


"It was for the Triwizard. Cedric gave me the password." He swallows hard and averts his eyes from mine with the mention of Diggory's name. "Ron was always worried that someone would catch me in here. Particularly you catching me in here." He was obviously trying to change the subject, so I let him. His smile broadens. "I don't think it would go down to well if I told him I accidentally walked in on you in here." I could just imagine Weasley's face turn pink with rage and then he'd be marching down to the Slytherin Common Room to find me.


"Would you tell him?"


"Probably not."


"So you wouldn't share with him just how good my body is then?" I regret it as soon as it passes over my lips. I promised myself the other night I wouldn't make him feel uncomfortable. It must be very weird for him. But I feel strangely comfortable in his company and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to draw his attention to my half-naked state, although it is unlikely that he had failed to acknowledge that already.


Surprisingly he doesn't look rattled by my question. Instead a small laugh escapes him and he shakes his head.


"Honestly, I don't think he would be at all interested in your body." He casts his eyes around the bathroom, watching the mermaid in the painting for a short time before finding my eyes once again. "Do you always come here this late?"


"Yes. For the same reasons as you I suppose. It's relaxing in here."


"Have you ever come across Moaning Myrtle in here?" What kind of a question was that? I suppose our history of civil conversations is fairly non-existent so asking strange questions just might be the path we follow. I don't really mind what questions he asks, just so long as he wants to stay and talk to me. But Moaning Myrtle is that annoying ghost in the girl's bathroom, why would she be here?


"No. Why would she be in here?" A mischievous smile flickers over his lips, then disappears quickly.


"She comes to perv on the Prefect boys. I thought she'd enjoy watching you in the bath."


"What?" I almost yell my disbelieving voice echoing around the walls. I never thought he'd say something like that, ever.


"Are you serious?"


"Yeah." He looks very amused, which makes me wonder if he is telling the truth.


"I've never seen her before. How do you know she does?"


"I've spoken to her a couple of times. Although she did say she never speaks to any of the other boys. Just watches them." I follow his eyes to a corner of the bath. "She usually sits just there." He points to where I was already looking.


"She might come in soon. She knows I usually take a bath about this time." I look back at his serious face.


"Your really serious aren't you?"


"Yeah. Why would I make something like that up?" I shrug my shoulders. I can't believe there has been a ghost in here watching me take my baths. Invading the only room I thought I had my privacy. If ghosts could die again I would be marching down to her bathroom to strangle her!


Potter has obviously noticed the horrified look on my face and he laughs again, a genuine smile spreading across his face. What a git! He's laughing at me. Me, Draco Malfoy.


"This doesn't bother you at all I see?" I cross my arms over my chest in outrage.


"Not really. I'm used to people watching me. Plus she's had a thing for me since my second year." This time I laugh. This is not a conversation I ever pictured having with the green-eyed Gryffindor.


"A ghost likes you? Moaning Myrtle, the most annoying and pathetic ghost in the whole Castle, likes you?" I can't help but smirk as I say this and soon find two annoyed green eyes boring into me.


"Yes. But she's not the only one is she?" My smirk instantly disappears. My mouth suddenly feels drier than a dessert and my eyes fall to the floor. I bet he's looking smug, I can tell without even looking at him. He knows how to rattle me now and I'm not at all pleased about it. I can't believe a Gryffindor is using my feelings against me! Using everything I confessed to him to make me feel uncomfortable.


I can't let him get to me. I have to look at him. I have to show him that I don't care about what he knows. I lift my eyes from the tiled floor and I'm shocked to find that he's not looking smug at all. He's looking somewhat guilty. Guilty? Guilty for making me feel so uneasy? My heart lightens slightly at this. He just watches me. I'm used to this by now, so I just stare back.


The tail of the mermaid splashing in the water causes him to break our eye contact. I continue to watch him. I never get bored of watching him, no matter how much I do it. He absolutely fascinates me, he always has and probably always will. He is such an enigma and yet I understand him so thoroughly.


He shifts uncomfortably on the spot, probably feeling my scrutinizing gaze upon him. You'd think after all these years he would be used to my grey eyes fixed on him. But I suppose everything's changed now, ever since I sent that letter. And he'd never noticed before that I would watch him constantly. Or maybe he did notice but now he knows *why* I watch him. I should talk to him, make him stay for as long as possible but I have no idea what to talk to him about. I don't want to ask anything that will make him leave. I crave his company and now I finally have it but am at a total loss for words. I hate feeling like this. I'm never lost for words, ever. A Malfoy must remain totally composed at all times. It seems I am failing miserably at being a Malfoy. I hate failing.


There are so many things I want to ask him. So many things I've wanted to ask him for years but most of them would probably scare him away. I couldn't exactly just say 'So, you think there's any chance you might be gay?' I'm sure that wouldn't go down to well. In fact it might be best to avoid that subject altogether. Perhaps even to avoid the content of the letter altogether.


"Do you really think you are incapable of love?" His voice is a whisper and I suddenly realise that we must have been looking at each other for a long time. Maybe the avoidance of the subject of my letter should be forgotten because I didn't bring it up…he did.


But his question is almost impossible to answer. It could be answered with a simple 'yes' but I have a sneaking suspicion he wants more than that.


"Yes. I've never really felt loved before. I don't know what love is. I don't know how to love. I can't ever remember someone telling me they love me. But because I've never felt love it makes it easier I think. If I had of had lots of love one minute then none the next it would probably hurt a lot more."


He gives me a strange look and steps closer to me, whether this is intentional or not I don't know.


"If you don't know how to love or have never experienced love how do you know if you love someone or not? You can't simply dismiss the possibility that you'll never love someone. You just might not know you love them. Might not be able to recognise the feeling. You said you don't believe love really exists. How can you not? You must be able to see it around you, even if it isn't directed at you. I can. And I've never experienced love either. Not real love. I never had parents or any other family to love me. I love my two best friends and the rest of the Weasley family but it's different than having a family of your own. I loved my Godfather more than I've ever loved anyone in my life…I find it hard to love now because it hurts when you love someone. It hurts when they're gone.


"I'm 'loved' and adored by most of the Wizarding world and yet most of the time I feel so unloved that it hurts. It pulls my heart down until it feels so heavy I want someone to rip it out of my chest. It's a bit of a catch 22. It hurts when you do love someone, when they love you and yet it hurts when you don't love anyone…or when no one loves you."


He has taken a few more steps towards me. We are still a few metres apart and yet I have never felt so close to him. I never knew he felt like this. He must have kept all those things so close to his heart that even I didn't notice he felt them. But he told me. He chose to tell me and I didn't even have to ask. He opened up willingly and gave me glimpse of what his heart contains.


I want to love him. I wish I could love him. I've never wanted to love him but I do now. I do just so he can feel his heart lighten, so he can rid himself of the sinking feeling. It's an awful feeling, I know it too well. He deserves to feel loved. I don't, but he certainly does.


He looks embarrassed at having exposed his heart to me. I probably would to. I did expose my heart to him but it was in a letter. I haven't told him any of it to his face. His courage to do so astounds me. I probably should tell him that. I probably should tell him I understand how he feels. That I want to understand him just as much as he wants to understand me. I thought I did fully understand him but his sudden confessions have thrown me in the deep end and I realise I don't understand him as well as I thought I did. I now know how he would have felt after reading my letter.


Yet I still don't know what to say to him. I'm stuck. I have to say something, otherwise he may think I don't understand. That I don't want to understand.


"I wish I could love you."


It's over my lips before I have time to stop it. My voice was soft but I know he heard it. His eyes have widened and he looks genuinely shocked. I'm genuinely shocked. I can't believe I just told him that. Of all the things I could have said I chose to say that. Although I can't ever remember consciously making the decision to do so. I probably should explain myself to him. Those words probably weren't enough.


"I mean I wish I could love you because you deserved to be loved. And I know all too well about the sinking feeling that makes your heart seem as if it's buried under the ground. Unseen. Left forgotten by everyone. Even forgotten by yourself."


I've never been like this with anyone before. I've never been so emotion based. Saying everything I actually feel. It' s slightly unsettling and yet I can't seem to stop myself from anything that I say.


He stares at me for a long time after I say this. I'm grateful because I don't think I should say anything more. So if he says nothing it's less likely he will ask me a question that requires an answer I'm not prepared to give. Although I'd probably give it anyway. I've gotten into a habit of doing that. Bad habits are always hard to shake. This one is no exception.


"I would never have guessed that you of all people would be gay."


When he finally speaks it is not at all what I was expecting. Gay. Of course I'd thought about that subject a lot but I've never considered myself to be gay. The only boy I've ever found to be attractive is Potter. I'm not remotely interested in anyone else of either gender. But to have someone actually say it out loud was…shocking.


When I manage to bring myself out of my thoughts I notice he has moved closer to me. He is about a metre from me, his eyes searching my face.


"I don't know if I am."


His eyebrows furrow in confusion and he takes another small step towards me.


"What do you mean?"


"Well I've never considered myself to be gay." I swallow hard, swallowing my pride at the same time in preparation for what I'm about to say. "You're the only boy I've ever been attracted to."


"Oh." He takes another step towards me. We are now face to face, only inches separating us. "I've never thought about it before, being gay that is. Until I read your letter. It's what's been troubling me the most. It's one of the things that confuses me the most too." He reaches his hand up, running his fingers over my neck, down to my chest. His touch is intoxicating. Soft fingers, so gentle, so soothing. My eyes drift shut so I can simply bask in the feeling of his fingers on my bare skin. "I don't know really know how I feel. Whether I'm gay or not. I suppose I could be. The idea of it doesn't revolt me or anything. It's quite the opposite in fact." His fingers continue to trace patterns over my chest and I feel as though I may pass out from the feeling of him being so close to me.


The movement of his fingers on my skin suddenly stops. His touch is abruptly withdrawn and I snap open my eyes. I am met with green eyes widening in shock, in confusion. He had obviously reached out to touch me unconsciously. As if suddenly realizing exactly what he had done his eyes avert to the floor and he takes a step back from me. I don't want him to move away. I don't want him to ever stop touching me, but he does, and there's nothing I can do about it. He mumbles something I can't understand before he turns and disappears through the door, once again leaving me feeling as though my heart were soaring.