This is part of my 'Pissed off Romance' series. The stories are just shorts ones, they do not relate to each other at all unless stated.

This is a two shot, the first half is told from Draco's point of view.

Fuelled by; Smoking too much pot, listening to too much angsty music and knowing that love can sometimes be too tragic to handle.

I hope you like it, reviews will be appreciated.

Ashes

I often day-dream in potions over the little things that make you, you. For one, you smile starts off crookedly until it evens out into a perfect, white toothed smile that's so full of hope and hidden agenda's it makes me smile internally at how determined you are to win this war you are fighting against these expectations that your friends and relatives have placed on you and it isn't just them that have put you in the place you are, its people like me, your enemies and rivals, that have made you want to prove us wrong and yet serve our needs of you at the same time.

Then there is your voice that constantly sounds as if you're exasperated over everything in your day-to-day life. When you are reprimanding me hotly over my usual outbursts of 'Mudblood' to the bushy haired girl you are dating or 'Sorry piece of asshole shit' to the redhead who fawns over the girl they say you will marry.

When I am sitting there, blocking out Snape's rambling that I know by heart for all the pre-Hogwarts lessons he piled on me when I was young, I think 'Will you actually marry Hermione?' and the answer in my head is always yes, I think you will marry her and make the girl happy and I feel all warm inside as the image of you kissing Hermione changes into a false image of you kissing me, a boy, a disgraced Malfoy and your rival of nearly seven whole years.

There are those rumours that flood my head, every time I think of you marrying that girl and these rumours suppress that evil bout of emptiness that comes, every time my mind hits reality and I look at the fact you love her and are most likely straight, even though these rumours say otherwise.

They say that you have been known to fuck with the Finnegan boy and had a 'thing' with Oliver Wood. Are these rumours true Harry? Do you play for the other team now you have given up Quidditch?

But, when I'm facing reality and from across the Great Hall I see you and her interacting I know, there is no hope of love between you and me. I sit there with a sneer of glare upon my beautiful face and I stare pretending that I wish you to die, however inside I wish you to push the girls head from your shoulder and I want to pull your head to mine in a kiss like Hogwarts has never seen and I want to stun the world with this respect and adoration I have for the boy who lived.

But, like through all these thoughts you cut me off by your eye's focusing on mine causing my heart to stop beating, and you always say something rude about me resulting in a glare from the girl on your arm and the redhead who loves her more than life itself.

And do you know how I know this Harry? It is because I recognise the same symptoms in him that I do in myself; the way he glares, the way he fidgets and the way he looks at the one he loves when no one is watching.

If I had any sense at all, I would go and ask Finnegan whether the rumours of you and him are true, and see if you really are a Nancy-boy. It would make no ends to me, except raise my hope factor to searing, for I know there would be no chance between you and I, the consequences would be too much to bare.

My hope for just one nice interaction between you and I hasn't lost its sparkle just yet though, for graduation day is soon, three weeks tomorrow and I plan on then to talk to you, possibly tell you how I feel before I face the rest of my life dodging death hexes whilst I run from the fact I betrayed my family for the man I think I love.

And whilst I am running I am wearing a mask of indifference and claim betrayal in order to save myself from Azkaban and hell. They believe me of course, why wouldn't they? They all think I am too up myself to care of Death Eaters and Voldemort and think Daddy will exempt me from death for he is the Dark Lord's right hand man. But that isn't true, 'Daddy' wants to take my lifeless body straight to the ass-hole Voldemort for the old mans desire.

And while those years of war between you and my father's master go on I shall wonder, whilst in my Muggle house in Muggle London with English rain staining the life outside with its dampening glow, about you and your family and the battle you shall come out bruised and victorious and I know within my life of solitude that your happy, no matter what, for you have strength behind you, even if on the end of Dumbledore's puppet string.

I'm considering the likelihood Ron ever telling Hermione how he feels and somehow I am eager for the possibility of him stealing her heart, for maybe that would bring me a step closer to being the one beside you in all those wars you fight. It wouldn't happen and I am saddened by that.

I saw you kissing her once in the astronomy tower, it was as the sun was going down over the hills surrounding Hogwarts, and as the orange light filled one of the greatest places in the world you pulled her into the room I was stationed in to get away from life. Neither of you noticed me for a few minutes and it was only when I coughed rudely you turned to face me with a flush on your cheeks. Both of you politely left without a word said and once again I was alone with my thoughts and fading sunlight.

Do you understand me Harry, when I shout at your friends more than I do at you? Or do how see how I always acknowledge your presence in a room with my eyes? Do you ever stop to think about how I walked past you with a slowed down pace in the corridors, just to get a better look at your handsome tanned face?

No, you don't do you, for when you get back to your dorm or wherever your headed, that girl who cheers for you the loudest when your playing quidditch comes along and takes your thoughts away and kisses you with passion and a future life ahead of you.

And when I am so lonely I think of you, I think of times you have glanced at me and the way that, if we were together, we would be. Perfect. You would balance my rudeness and I would counter your submissiveness and consume you whole every night. Oh and the sex Harry, have you ever thought that someone like me could dominate someone as strong minded as you? I bet you didn't, but I would.

And then there are the times I think of you and I together fighting, our fights would be legendary and powerful and its thoughts like this that tell me that you were made for me.

But these thoughts shall be soon shattered and my hopes crushed when the final hour for us as Hogwarts students is upon us and we are all saying goodbye for the summer and in turn for our lives and it probably will be the last time I ever see you as an eighteen year old boy with his life ahead of him. In truth it is probably the last time I shall ever see you, full stop.

I don't believe that in the future our paths shall cross, unless you plan on passing by the Wandsworth part of London which is officially Muggle orientated and I would put a bet on the fact I am the only Wizard there. I don't ever see you living a muggle life when the prospect of magic to you is so great seeing as you lived without that knowledge for eleven years of your life. Plus it's the one thing your parents gave you that still really resembles them.

You still have his hair and her eyes but they are different somehow, for your eyes have started to fade into barely green and your hair is starting to shine nearly blue and its perfect, your perfect.

And with every second these thoughts take away, I am coming closer to the last time my eyes shall ever be focusing on you and the thought hurts. It's closer to my death bell too, for I shall be looser and looser with my identity as the years without you pass by without you in my life, even if it is across a dinner hall or on the receiving end of a hex.

Soon my life with you will come to an end and I will be left with those sweet memories of your body so close to mine as you threatened me and beat me and I will always remember the times you looked upon me with sorry eyes as you beat me in Quidditch. And I wont be able to watch you swing those 'fuck me' hips as you saunter carelessly down the halls of Hogwarts. Soon, I shall watch you with hopeless eyes as you saunter from the grounds of Hogwarts, with your lover on your arm and an army of worshipping followers hot on your heals.

And at that spot I shall stand in, on that day and at that time I shall let my love for you, Harry Potter, fade with the last quaky breath you always leave me with, whenever I am anywhere near you.