Disclaimer: Is Snape treating Harry kindly? Is Sirius getting it on with Remus? Are Harry and Draco gay? DOES THE COVER OF HARRY POTTER SAY 'BY CHEESEBOI'?
No, thus I do not own Harry Potter, Warner Bros., Scholastic, or anything. Except my imaginary naked Draco.
A/N: I wasn't going to post this up, for another few days. But I'm impatient. And I guess no body else is either. But I just wanted to post this on.
Eh, Draco is so OOC here. And I really hate it. But hey, I suck. End of story.
Sleepless nights are no longer spent wondering about the boy, but rather about your reactions around him. After that fleeting kiss in the library, you can't help replaying it over and over in your head and feeling the emotions. How his perfect pink lips fit on yours. How the gentle hesitant movement that indicated how innocent he was; only a beginner. How he allowed your tongue to fit through the lips and into his tiny mouth. How his own tongue rose to meet yours, battling each other, tasting each other, twisting and loving all of it.
Your hands had risen to his hair, intertwining the soft strands of black between your fingers. His own hands softly leaning against your back, gently touching. The smell of trees and pine roaming into your nostrils and your heart soared. As if a bird flying through the forest, free and enjoying the vast feelings.
It ends and you break apart slowly, opening your eyes to see the closed ones in front of you. The eyelids open, lashes rising to reveal the glowing verdant eyes and a smile graces your lips. There is a still moment as everything around you disappears, and left in the world was this boy, Harry Potter.
Yet the forces of the memory hits you hard unexpectedly, and realization dawns. Your smile disappears, his hands retreat. The sparkles in his eyes dim and the green darkens. You tumble and land back on your side of the wall, horrified and pained.
These thoughts were all so wrong. All these thoughts, feelings, emotions and dreams, they were not suppose to exist coming out of you. They were untouchable. Unattainable. Unforgivable.
Unbelievable.
If anyone knew you harboured this erratic behaviour, certainly you will not live to see another day. Nor would Potter either. It had been a week since it and he had been ignoring you. He didn't want anything to do with you anymore. Besides, both of you were all too different. You are the heir of the darkness. A Death Eater's son and you're fate was in they're hands.You cringe at the sight of light. You back off with the slightest form of warmth. You were born in the eternal darkness, covered by the heavy blankets that suffocated you.
Harry was the ethereal angel of light. He is pure and perfect, untainted by the dark and neatly wrapped in protective goodness.
It was all wrong to begin with.
"Drakie!" a shrill cry lifts you away from your harsh river of thoughts, and Pansy Parkinson's face is mere inches from yours. You lift your hands to push her away, but a thought jumps in. A slow fake smile is found on your lips, and Pansy's own matched yours.
"Pansy, how about a walk?" The pug-faced girl smiled wider with glee, tugging you up and dragging you to the portrait. It was only three hours till curfew. Once out, she was clinging to your arm so hard that you wondered if your hand was receiving any blood circulation. Silence reigned with you guiding the both of you to a classroom. You find one and enter, inside you pin Pansy to the wall.
She has her eyes closed, her face leaning towards yours expectedly. Hesitantly, you wrap your arms around her slim body, covering her and pressing against her. Her breasts against your chest, and a feeling of discomfort drifts around you.
You have hugged and snogged many girls, all enjoying their body and their features. You have never had a problem with them and never cared. But now, somehow it all seemed so wrong. She was too tall, not slim enough. Her face was enhanced with make-up and it looked as if she had a mask on. She smelled too strong like perfume, fogging up your senses with the stinging scent. She didn't seem right.
Yet you ignore your thoughts, and focus on the task at hand. Leaning forward, you press your lips against hers, an unnatural taste of lip gloss rises as you stoke her lips with your tongue, feeling the wet surface. She kisses back, hard, eager and hurriedly, as if trying to eat you as much as you can before you are gone. You feel her hands stroking you under seductively in circles and rubbing her body against you even more. Her hand moves to your thigh, squeezing it and moving ever so slowly to your groin. You don't move, only vaguely kissing her.
You feel nothing. No spark, no arousal, nothing. All thoughts are fogged and unclear, blocked for your inner sight to see. Her forceful and rough kisses are lost inside you mouth. Her hands are distant and only a small brush to you. Her groans and moans, her pleads of your name cry out to your deaf ears. All thoughts escape your mind, all moving towards one target.
"Harry.."
Suddenly reality hits you hard on your head as you find Pansy staring at you, her black eyes wide in shock and disbelief.
"W-what did you say?" she stammered, "Did you just say.. Harry?"
"No, I didn't." With that, you kiss her feeling nothing and she dismisses this. You watch her, her eyes closed and cheeks stained in a blush. And you imagine just what Harry--
"--would look like when I'm kissing her?"
"Probably disgusted, Ron. I think you'll have more luck with... Draco?" You pull quickly away at the harsh whisper of your name. Turning around, you see Potter, stock still with Weasley's back to you.
"Malfoy? You're off your rockers with that one..! Harry? Hello! Earth to Harry?" Weasley followed Potter's gaze, and the red-head sees you, arms around an ecstatic Pansy Parkinson, her lip gloss smeared. "Ew... I did not need to see that!"
But Harry saw that.
Potter is looking at you, all emotion devoured from his features. His eyes are dark, murky and a shady green. A flicker of something races through the depths of his irises. Panic rises in you and guilt drilled inside your chest.
Harry had seen you. Harry had seen you kissing her. And now he probably thought that kiss, the kiss in the library, was nothing but one of those mistaken brush of lips. Those quick ones that had no meaning whatsoever, behind it all. Ones that are used so the other may be taken away and have a quick arousal and release. To vent out anger and frustration. Ones like the one he was having with Pansy. Unfeeling and unmentioned the next day.
But the one he had with Harry. It was different. It was one that you would remember and that would occupy your mind every waking and sleeping moment. One that filled you up in dark empty times. Ones you lived over and over again, every time more vivid and memorable.
And it was the one that was driving you mad with unwanted emotions.
"Weasley," you almost choke, but somehow your voice is smooth.
"Malfoy." Potter interjected, taking the red-head's response. It takes you every ounce of power to glare back, narrowing your eyes and pushing away any emotions from your face. If he was not going to show and tell, neither would you.
"I suggest both of you Gryffindorks to return to whatever dump you came from. As you see, we're busy." Pansy said with a sneer, saving you from coming up with an insult. She leaned in, placing a chaste kiss on your lips but you pull away, suddenly frightened with her contact.
Why were you feeling so guilty? Why was there this dreadful empathy swirling inside your stomach with self-condemnation? There was nothing between you and Potter. You want nothing do with Potter.
But you want everything to do with Harry.
"Shut up, Parkinson." Weasley's voice rang, his face in scowl. "I never asked to come see your snog show. C'mon, Harry, let's go."
Potter nodded, his glare still upon your eyes. Both of them turned around, walking to the door.
"Har--Potter!" he stops walking and you are surprised you had been the one calling him. Why were you calling Potter back? Let him leave, it's what you wanted. You want him to be gone, to leave your mind and let it go free. To go on without his constant presence lingering in your consciousness.
But you can't do that.
Years spent hating him. Years plotting against him. Years with him in your mind. Ever since he refused your friendship, you had been angry and most shocked. Then you had striven for his attention, promising he will regret the day turned you away. You insulted him, mocked him, picked fights because you wanted him to notice you as a high superior. You observed him because you wanted to know him and use your information against him. You joined Quidditch because you wanted to surpass him. You did things because of him.
"What is it, Malfoy?" he spat, dislike relevant in his tone, just like all these years had been. "Speak, or I'm leaving." He looked like he was demanding for a reason why you were there. A reason why you were with Pansy and why you were kissing her.
Speak, or he'll leave you forever.
But you don't open your mouth, shutting it tight and looking away. You did not care if he left. You did not care what he thought of you. You didn't care.
He still looks at you, his features scrunched in disgust and hate, but his eyes remained fired up in failed hope and emptiness. You want to reach out to him, to fill up that emptiness, wash away that failed hope and refresh it with all you have. But you can't because angels and devils do not mix. Furious enemies show no mercy, no feelings towards each other, and absolutely no love.
It was never meant to be.
Now he turns away, walking out the door. His mocking back, fading away and gone.
x.x.x.x.x
Another day, another week, you find yourself alone. Another minute, another hour, you find yourself breathing with difficulty. Another day, another night, he is in your mind all the time.
This is too much. So much it overflows inside, but it still isn't enough. You stare at your cauldron in Potions class, trying not to look at him. Damn that Snape for pairing you up with Potter. For making you work together side by side, shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart.
"Hand me the slugjuice." you instruct, so very shocked your voice is working. He hands the small vial to you, fingers brushing slightly and an incredible amount of electricity bolts through you, stopping you momentarily. Your index finger still touched his thumb, and both of you had not moved.
"Er.." he says and you whip away from him, pouring the slugjuice inside the golden coloured potion. The swirling liquid turned to a faint sliver, sparkling against the dim light that lit the classroom. You work another few minutes in silence, trying as hard as possible to prevent any contact whatsoever.
Finally, you're done. The potion is gold on one side, sliver on the other. The colours only breaking into the other's territory once in a while, but is pushed away by the other each time. Potter puts a fair amount into a vial, labelling his name on it and yours; 'Harry Potter & Draco Malfoy.' He walks up to the front of the class, handing in the potion. You clean up and prepare for your next class.
Just as you swing your bag over your shoulder, something grabs onto your arm,feeling the familiar bolt. Your eyes travel from the thin arm, to the face of Potter, staring at you with a masked expression.
"Malfoy," he says in a slight whisper. You look around, hoping that maybe someone will save you, but your hopeless 'friends' are gone, leaving you stranded. Granger and Weasley are no where in sight and you quickly wonder how Weasley had ever been able to pass on to Potions N.E.W.T. Only a few Gryffindors were present with Snape, he was probably giving them a lecture. "We need to talk."
"About what?" you say, too tired to add menace to your tone. "I need to get to class."
"I just.. I just need to talk to you."
"Can it wait?" you start to walk away, but his arm is still firmly attached to yours, not letting you go.
"No, I want to talk, now." There's desperation and anger in his voice and you can't help but shiver a bit.
"Potter, there's nothing to talk about!" Though you knew there were tons of things to discuss with him. So much you can hardly count. Things that he probably would never know, and would never feel.
"I have something to talk about." he says, narrowing his eyes dangerously.
"Fuck you, Potter. Leave me alone." You try to wiggle from his grip, but his thin arms deceive his strong hold.
"No! I need you to listen to me," he says, biting his lip almost as if he was nervous. "..please."
You can't help it. The urgent look in his eyes pulls you away from your stubbornness. Nodding, you scowl and follow him out of the classroom. Out in the corridors, it was fairly deserted except for the few tardy students rushing to class. You wonder just how much detention you will receive from Flitwick as you are never, ever late for a class. Sighing, you enter a classroom just two corridors away from Snape's. It was the same one you and Pansy were in last night.
Turning swiftly to face Potter, you fold your arms and glare at him, putting on a sneer clearly saying you'd rather be elsewhere. "So what is just so very important that you just have to make me waste my time with you." A downcast look spreads on his face and a tiny bit of regret at you words rise. But you remember that this is supposed to be a good thing.
"It's just.." he stammers, his eyes staring at the cold stone floor. "..just I wanted to know why.. why.." His full pink lips quiver, shining with saliva as his tiny tongue flicked across the surface.
"Hurry it up, Potter." you say impatiently when you know you could wait forever for him. "I don't have all day."
"Okay!" he shouts and surprising you faintly with the sudden outburst. "It's just.. I'm wondering what.. why you.. at.."
"Potter--"
"Shut up! Stop talking, I'm trying to explain!"
"Well you're not trying hard enough. I can't understand when your stumbling through every sentence!" Your arms flared up in the air, expressing your supposed impatience. "Now speak fluently, Potter, or I'm not listening at all!"
"I-I can't believe you!" his voice louder. "You know what your problem is, Malfoy? You know what's so screwed up in your already fucked up brain?"
"What? Tell me if you know me oh-so-well!" This was getting out of hand. Your anger was rising up to unnecessary heights rapidly. The unknown rage that was inside of you suddenly deciding to jump out of no where, only knowing it was in you till it was lashed out at another. "Tell me why my brain is so fucking screwed up!"
You can hear his breaths growing harder and faster with fury. His flushed cheeks burning up the vivid green of his eyes. The forest was on fire, and water was no where in sight.
"It's because.. because you're an arrogant, inconsiderate, insufferable bastard who cares nothing about anyone except for his own selfish being!" his balled fist shook on his sides, and you can't help but feel more angry.
"Woah-oh, what big words little immature Scarhead is using." you mock casually, holding in you temper. "I'm so surprised at your capability to pronounce these meaningless words!"
"Don't talk shit to me, Malfoy!" he yells, "I don't know what the hell is wrong with you! First you.. you do that to me, than you go and ignore me for a week. Next thing, you..you're snogging her!"
You had not been ignoring him. When you had come too close, he would run down the other way, clearly saying that he wanted nothing from you. When you caught his eyes, he would look away, shame and fear masked in his pupils. And through those first few days, all you wanted was an explanation on why you were feeling this way, why he was not giving them back to you. Only after did you realize the horrible concept of your situation, desperately stopping the flow of emotions.
"Oh, I see. Wittle Potty is jealous!"
"I.. no. No! I'm not jealous!" he shook his head furiously and backing away from you, hitting the wall behind him and sinking onto the floor. A pang of sadness washes over you at his words. You stand firm, keeping narrow eyes on his slumped figure. "It's just that I don't know what you're trying to do. I mean.. you.. you're confusing me."
"Do you think this doesn't confuse me too?" you say softly, cautiously taking a step towards him. "You think that I'm happy about this?" He's silent, not answering you as he fiddles with his fingers, his eyes upon his hands. You want to sit beside him, to smooth those troubled features, to put out the burning fire so the forest may sprout back to life with all it's greenery and calm demeanour. But you don't.
You can't. You couldn't. You will not.
Harry is still sitting there, curled up in a ball looking so small and insignificant. But you know, insignificant could never describe him.
"What do you want, Draco?" he suddenly asks, his tone blank. What did you want?
I want your friendship. I want a relationship. I want you. I want Harry.
"Nothing." you say, your voice flat and unfaltering. "This was a mistake. You and I are not meant to be mentioned in the same sentence, not without the word hate between them."
"What are you going on about?" Potter was up on his feet again, his fists shaking on his sides, bony shoulders scrunched together.
"I said it was a mistake." you say, than more quietly, "Everything was."
"So what you're saying, is that all this time, this, this.. this friendship, was a mistake? It meant nothing to you, didn't it?"
"No.. I mean--"
"I thought you changed! I actually believed there was something other than the Malfoy I've known for five years. But I was wrong!" Potter was stepping closer, his footsteps stomping against the cold stone floor, expressing his growing rage with power. You feel guilty and afraid of his anger because you had been the one causing it. It felt like you were drinking hot acid, dripping down your throat, burning it and ceasing your ability to speak. The acid continued to travel further into you, settling inside your stomach, thrashing and hitting your sides. "You're a slimy, worthless bastard just like those Death Eaters who can't save a thing, not even themselves!"
With difficulty, you push down you guilt, letting your anger rise high blocking any other emotion. "You've mistaken. I can very much save myself!" you say, trying to be calm. "But you Potter, is the only one who actually needs saving. With all your hopeless self-pity and pathetic depression, I wonder who will step up now that no one really cares. Not even your own fucking friends!"
"Don't you bring my friends into this! Ron and Hermion--"
"They bloody abandoned you! And here, I thought those two really loved you, when they really can't handle anything close to their discomforts!" You yelled, remembering the rumours. Remembered the two, walking around acting there was not a care in the world. As if Harry Potter was never in their lives, that their best friend was not suffering. They didn't care. "What kind of friends are they?"
"They're my friends!" he says proudly, but you see the tears leaking from his eyes. "Ron and I are friends again, and it's okay now. It was my fault in the first place. I was.. I was annoying them.. I guess."
"How?" you yell, taking a step closer to him. "Annoying them by being depressed? How can they be annoyed when you're trying to fucking kill yourself!" There you grab Potter's hand, whipping the robe sleeve up, revealing a trail of cuts. The rusty dried blood contrasted with the smooth pale skin of his wrist, criss-crossing each other in all directions. Each wound so deep, it was amazing he hasn't hit bone yet.
Even if the cuts were on Harry's wrist, you can't help but feel each stroke repeat itself deep inside you.
Potter pulls away, holding his hand to his chest in defence. "I... I-It.. this.." he grew quiet, no other attempts to form words. His eyes dropped, the same shame and fear in his presence.
"Why?" you ask, feeling as if it was the millionth time you've asked that question. And hoping that this time, you may receive something. Verdant eyes rise again, fire still present. The flames thrashing and dancing, but it was dull with the lost of the pained forest. "Why, Harry?"
"I don't know."
You want to yell, demand what was wrong. But you push the anger away, taking on the calm approach. "Fuck that, Harry. Just tell me."
"Draco.. I.. I can't. I just.."
"Why not?" he closed his eyes tightly, as if in pain. "Why can't you tell me?"
"You wouldn't understand." he said quietly, his tone sad and hopeless. If you were not pitying him at that moment, you would have taken a hard blow to his head, punching him and hoping to knock out his stupidity and stubbornness right out.
"Dammit, of course I won't!" Screw the calm approach, nothing will get through that dense head. "How will I ever fucking understand if you don't tell me everything that's bloody fucked you up!"
"Stop swearing!"
"You started it first!"
A small flicker of a grin graces his lips, but is immediately wiped off moments after your own smile emerged. Frowning once more, you sigh and look straight at him with a look of seriousness. "Harry, you can tell me. You can tell me anything. I'll understand."
"No! You won't," he yells, his voice rising. "You have no idea how I feel! You have no idea how it feels to be alone! You don't knowhow it feels to grow up unloved! Wishing that maybe one day, someone will come and claim you as your own!"
"At least they took you in." you suggested, tired of his outbursts. "Please, Harry, just tell me."
"I--I.. you won't--" he stumbles, his cheeks burning a red glow of anger and frustration. "Don't make me do this."
"You will tell me what's wrong, Potter." you say firmly. "I did not come out here, skip my class, and get detention for nothing. You wanted to talk, and you will! You will talk about what's bothering you, Potter!"
"I don't want to! And I thought you had nothing to say!"
"I've changed my mind, and don't be a stubborn prat, Potter." you say, knowing well you were also being slightly stubborn. "Just say it. Pretend I'm not here. You might feel better."
"But what if--"
"Do it."
A small moment of silence followed, while Harry was probably weighing his options. Than he nodded hesitantly and a sharp intake of breath was taken by him, as if trying to suck up as much courage to do what he had to next. Already you are pained at seeing the hurt expression on his face. Your heart aching even before the first words had fallen from his perfect lips.
"Living like this, is so hard."
Tears blurred your vision, but you can feel perfectly. Clinging on the shameful drops, you wait and listen.
"Sometimes I just wish I wasn't Harry Potter. I want to be normal. I.. I don't like.. no. I hate how the everyone expects so much. They weigh so much on me.. all their hopes.. their dreams, pains and responsibilities on to me. I have to kill him. I have to kill Voldemort. But it's so hard.. to.. to do that." his hand rose subconsciously to his scar, touching it with what looked like distaste.
"You don't have to. Someone else will." you say softly, hoping to lighten up his mood. Why would Harry think life was a burden? Why would he think he was responsible to be the world's Savior? No one deserved to think like that. Especially Harry.
"No." he says strictly after. His eyes were blank now, staring hollow at you. "I have to. That someone will be me. It's all in the prophecy. I have.. no choice, at all."
Choices. This world you lived in had choices. Your choices affected your life and choices freely expressed you. Choices that you chose.
But in Harry's world, all choices were plunged deeply in oblivion, defied in existent to his eyes. From birth, he had no choice to live and grow without love. To be taken into a family that hated him. His choice to grow and suddenly know you were the one that had taken Voldemort away. To be a celebrity and to know that everyone expected you to once again, banish Voldemort for good. To be watched constantly by others with gleaming wide eyes expecting and wanting.
Now you remember the words, the looks, and the fake smiles from all around that were directed at Harry. They all wanted it.
"I was chosen to this fate. He killed my mum.. my dad.. an--" he choked, his figure suddenly shaking.
"A-and what?" you whisper, feeling his anguish enter you. His agonizing pain clutching onto your every feeling.
"Sirius.. they killed him." he said, shaking violently. "He.. he was family. And.. he existed. He was alive... b-but now.. I'm so scared. I don't want anyone else to.. to die. To die because of me. God.. I think love is a curse for me."
"Love, a curse?" you try to laugh, but they only turn to choked gasps. "I'd think everyone would be dead by now."
"Good." he says, pitch black curls falling over his eyes. "I don't.. want their love. I don't want anyone to die. I..I..don't want them to turn out like everyone else. Because I love them too much to see them die.
"It hurts.. too much. I-I.."
He was falling, broken and fractured. Harry's strong wings were injured because the devil had pierced a steaming arrow at him. If no one was going to catch him, he would fall right to the devil's hands. Someone had to catch him.
Someone save him.
Your arms wrap around his small figure, fitting perfectly in you. He was shaking uncontrollably, small painful moans emerging from him. You feel his own hands clutch your sides tightly, squeezing the nerves there. But you ignore the pain, as you know something else ached more. His breaths were coming out heavy and loud, his chest heaving in and out.
His face muffled in your neck, his warm breath tickling your pale skin. You know you shouldn't be doing this. You should stop this. Stop touching him. Stop holding him. Push him away because it hurts.
But wouldn't it hurt even more if you stopped?
You had heard Aunt Bellatrix boasting about killing Sirius Black and how Potter broke down at the concept. She was most delighted, but was careful not to be too much as she had failed to complete the Dark Lord's command. You were angry at that time that your Father was in Azkaban all because of him. So you had felt a large amount of joy because it evened it out. You lost your father and so should he lose his godfather too.
Yet now as you see him this way, it seems too much for him to pay for your own Father's arrest.
"He's gone.. dead.." Harry whispered, voice dripping with anger. His fingers digging deeper into your sides. "All because of them... all because of him. He killed them. He killed them all. HE KILLED EVERYONE I EVER LOVED!"
Tears dropped, burning your cheeks and falling sweetly on Harry's neck. You can't cry now. It wasn't like you. It was a sign of a powerless struggle. Emotions were weak, thus it would make you weak. Yet you still weep because what you feel at that moment was so significant, so huge, you cannot stop the feelings. Because the feelings were of Harry. And Harry was nothing but everything.
You feel Harry relax, his grip loosen and fall away. His breathing slower and softer. The rage and fire was gone and you feel it leaving him.
His head lifted slight so that his eyes were transfixed on the side your head. You turn around, and breath in a sharp gasp. He was so close. His nose tingling yours, his lips breathing air out and you feel the warmth. His glorious viridian eyes boring into your sliver ones.
And you lean in, taking the sweet lips before you. Intensity graced your every kiss as pleasure ran through your body like electricity. The power flew through you, capturing everything in you and feeding it to the kiss. The aroma of Harry drifting through your senses, and the feel of his body extricating your touch. His unmoving lips sent waves of growing passion to you, but it wasn't enough.
You wanted more.
Craving hands roamed his body and you push him back against the wall firmly. You kiss harder, wanting more and wanting Harry to retaliate. Your hand trails down his arm, feeling the soft robe and down to his hands. You hold on to his hand, soft velvet skin intertwining with your own calloused fingers. Harry's fingers are limp, free for you to move. But just then, his fingers flex, holding onto yours harder, almost crushing your bones. But you don't care as you feel bolts of fire emanate out filled with excitement.
Than his lips part, deepening the kiss and he kissed back. Desperation filled his movements and passion filled yours. You cling harder to him, afraid he may run away. Licking his wet lips, your tongue asking for entrance. And he opens up letting you slide. You explore, licking the sides of his mouth and his teeth. His tongue melting in yours, hot and wet, etched with the desire that you had kept much too long to yourself.
Your other hand travelled to the back of his neck, bringing him closer to you. He breaks the kiss, trailing butterfly ones around you cheeks, licking the salty tears away.Taking in a raspy breath, content on feeling his lips suck on your neck. You feel the hardness that surrounds under you, calling and tickling you with lust. And you press closer to him, feeling his own hard on against your thigh.
Suddenly he stops, and you whimper, pleading to resume. You look down, his eyelids half open in front of the ethereal glow of Harry's own eyes. Sparkling calm emerald, hot fire gone,as your own icy cold ones stared back. Leaning down, you kiss the soft skin of his forehead, caressing the tender surface.
"I thought you said it was a mistake." he whispers, closing his eyes at the feel of your kisses.
"I know." you kiss him again, his raven curls brushing against your forehead. "But I wanted to save you."
A/N: Eww.. I want to make Harry more angst-y, but than, it'll make Harry even more OOC. Before I wrote this, I thought that Harry should be snogging Ginny, and than Draco would take Harry's place in this chapter. But I thought otherwise, since Draco is suppose to be the one denying his likeness for Harry. And Harry just straight out denies any form of love. You might go, BUT WHY THE HELL IS HARRY SNOGGING DRACO? Because as I said, he's only denying love -cough-
I want a BETA! I need someone to motivate me. To give me PURE cristism. To give me productive SUGGESTIONS. And to take away the pain of editing. -evil laugh- So, if anyone is interesting, email me. (sorepetalAThotmail . com)