Largely plotless one shot. Draco = Harry. Sue me.

"And now I tell you openly, you have my heart so don't hurt me."

Cranberries - Dreams

I hope you never find this.

Then again, I hope you do. Merlin, I don't know.

It's a quarter to midnight. I'm sitting up in bed, scribbling down on parchment what I can never say to you. The scratching of the quill sounds loud, and there are inkblots on my sheets because of the way my hands are shaking.

I want to know what your skin feels like.

I know you're warm. I've fought with you; I've felt the heat through layers of cotton and wool. But I don't know how smooth your skin is, the differences in texture between the inside of your wrists, your shoulders, below your jaw over your pulse, the back of your neck where the ends of hair curl.

And then there's your mouth. When you see me, you always hold it in such a straight, controlled line, but I saw you laughing today.

When I see you, I just want to keep looking. The way you tilt your head, the shadow under your cheekbone and the hollow behind your ear, they're all surfaces I wish I could touch. I want to trace the lines of you with my fingertips as if you're an artwork. Trace your bones, your ribs, your spine. I want to learn about you.

I want to know you. I want to know exactly how warm your lips are. I want to know what you taste like. I want to know how you sound, breathing fast and closer to me than you've ever been, even when we've been fighting. I want to wind my fingers through your hair, and feel your hands combing through mine.

Yet when I see you my first instinct is to lash out. I don't know why that has to be. You're funny and smart, and verging on . . . gorgeous. Your only fault is the company you keep. Slytherins and Gryffindors don't seem to be allowed to be friends. But if circumstances were different I think we might have been.

When I walk by you, close enough to hit you, I get this feeling like breathing isn't as easy as it usually is.

But this is futile isn't it? I'll never have you. I'll never be able to find out how smooth and soft your hair would feel against my skin, unless of course it's after my father kills you.

So, perhaps you will find this. I'll hide it, but knowing Slytherins I doubt it'll stay hidden for long.

If you are reading this . . . know only that I never wanted things to turn out this way. But sometimes, bad things happen and no matter what you try, you can't reverse them.

Goodbye then Potter.

Malfoy.