A/N: Sorry that this is so short, but I want the story to be one person's view per chapter and nothing else is really needed here so the chapter obviously ended. I promise to make the next chapter longer. Please review if you read!
"And don't you hear me crying: "Oh babe, don't go""
- (Meat Loaf – For Crying Out Loud)
I arrive at the Gryffindor porthole just as the portrait swings closed. I get once brief glimpse of Harry's tear stained face before the Fat Lady faces me. "What are you doing here young man, you're Slytherin" I stand motionless as moments pass me by. I feel my eyes watering and rush my hands to my face to brush away the forthcoming tears. Why did he have to go like that? Why did the kiss, our perfect moment have to end? And then like a cold knife piercing my heart the truth is upon me.
He didn't mean it at all, he can't have. It was all a ruse, so that in the morning he can brag to everyone about how pathetic poor Draco has become. I will be the laughing stock of the school tomorrow. I can not let him do it, I won't let him get the better of me. My tears slow and then eventually stop and I clench my fists at my side. "Young man, do I have to tell you again!" The Fat lady's words pull me back to reality and with that I turn, fists still clenched and face the stairs. With a newfound purpose I stride down the stairs, across the entrance hall and towards the Slytherin common room. I enter and once again stride resolutely to my dorm. I reach to remove my robes for sleep but too many thoughts are swirling through my mind.
How could he do that to me? How could he use my frailty for such a scheme? I practically rip the robes off my body and hurl them onto the floor. Who am I kidding? We are sworn enemies, anything goes. My mind boils and I find myself thinking, am I more angry at Harry for manipulating the situation or at myself for believing the kiss was born out of anything but spite. I climb into my bed and stare up at the unadorned ceiling.
The night moves slowly past me, but no sleep comes. By the morning the ceiling will be burned so definitively into my mind. I roll to the right, onto my side and a new image replaces the old. It Is Harry's face as the portrait of the fat lady swung shut. There had been tears glistening in his vivid green eyes, I was sure. But what did that mean? If he had kissed me out of malice why would he cry? This image has brought to me an entirely different possibility. Perhaps the kiss was real? My heart increases to what can not possibly be a healthy pace. Could he really care for me? Tears again breach my eyes, if he did care, if it was real then why run away? Confusion replaces the former swirling anger. I wrap my arms around my shaking body, bracing myself for the lonely night ahead.