Title: Obsession

Disclaimer: J.K.R.'s babies. Not mine. I'm just the pervy babysitter. (Okay, that sounds bad...)

Rating: T or PG-13

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Warnings: Mentions shagging. Hints at a wet dream. Maybe language.

A/N: This was written for a prompt for the Character Diversity Boot Camp in the HPFC forums. Woot!

Prompt: Obsession

Character: Harry

Harry wasn't obsessed.

He wasn't.

Whatever Ron and Hermione might say on the subject he was not.

This was not sixth year all over again.

He was not obsessed with Draco Malfoy.

He was merely observant.

He observed the way Malfoy interacted with the other students.

The things he did.

The things he said.

How he conducted himself in lessons, and how he spent his time out of the classroom as well.

What he ate for breakfast.

And lunch.

Maybe even for supper.

The way his hair fell around his face just so, and how it sort of glowed like a halo when the light hit it.

But he wasn't obsessed.

He was just observing.

The observing had started when he had returned Malfoy's wand after the war, after he stuck up for the Malfoys in the trials. The other boy had spoke passionately about his regrets, and his desire for redemption. Harry had spoken to him at length on the subject.

Afterwards, Harry had watched him every chance he got, the few times the other boy ventured from the Manor. They ran into each other as often as Harry could manage it. He even thought about owling Malfoy, but didn't want to annoy him.

So he just observed, except when he could manage a run-in. Malfoy seemed cold and distant, though. It was as if he had returned to his old self. Harry didn't mind too much, he found. It was better than seeing him broken. Harry just wished he could have the openness back that the Slytherin had shown him at the Manor. Malfoy had been so subdued. So remorseful.

"I don't know what to do. I caused so much misery, so much suffering. All I want is to find a way to make up for what I did, just a little. To know I'm doing good for once, even in a small way."

Malfoy had stared at the floor as he spoke, looking so pinched and small. Defeated and helpless. Harry almost wanted to hug him for some reason. This was not the Malfoy he knew; not how Malfoy should be.

"Try baby steps," he suggested. "Watch people; see what they need and do your best to help them. It might not seem like much, but it's a start."

"No one will trust me," whispered Malfoy.

"I would," Harry responded without thinking and with feeling. "I believe in you, Malfoy."

Malfoy had raised his eyes and stared at Harry with an unfathomable expression, but there was a light in his grey eyes that hadn't been there moments before.

"Thank you."

Harry hadn't expected Malfoy to take his advice so much to heart. But he did.

Malfoy watched everyone.

He knew the moment anyone had a problem, and he was always there to solve it.

The other students hadn't wanted his help, at first. But he was there, persistent, offering solutions with quiet dignity they couldn't help respect.

Other than the new first-years, who had no prior exposure to Malfoy and quickly grew to idolize him, the student body was wary of him. However after a few weeks it became blatantly obvious that Malfoy had changed.

Oh, he was still Malfoy. He walked around with his head held high and an icy expression on his face, was still full of sarcasm and biting wit. But he was never malicious, and most of the time, his sneer was noticeably absent.

He treated the other students with respect; even kindness. Even Ron had to - reluctantly - admit he was different.

In his desire to seek out and assist with everyone's problems, of every kind, he quickly became the most observant student in the school, even surpassing Harry.

Because while Harry's newfound powers of observation were limited to Malfoy, Malfoy noticed everyone, and everything.

Everyone and everything except Harry.

Harry had to admit that it hurt, though he didn't know why.

Malfoy quickly became the most popular boy in school, after Harry.

Maybe even moreso than Harry.

Harry may have defeated Voldemort, but Malfoy solved all their problems.

Harry didn't resent him for the fall in his popularity.

He even appreciated it.

What he resented him for was the fact that he was being singled out, treated differently from everyone else.

Malfoy treated all the other students with respect, even friendliness; going so far as to offer small smiles to the younger students. He was even nice to Ron and Hermione. But he was frosty to Harry.

He barely spoke two words to Harry, avoided him as much as he could, and interacted with him only when required.

That really hurt.

He had no idea why he was singled out for that treatment, or why Malfoy still hated him so much. He had thought they were past that. Merlin knew he was. So it hurt.

It motivated him to observe Malfoy more closely.

This wasn't like in sixth year. In sixth year, he had observed Malfoy with suspicion and loathing. Now he observed Malfoy with interest and longing. He wanted to be the Slytherin's friend.

He observed Malfoy even more closely.

Soon he could even read the Slytherin's moods, even through Malfoy's mask.

He could tell when Malfoy was happy, or sad, upset, amused, or when he'd just had enough.

He could predict the Slytherin's actions more often than not, with an accuracy that freaked Ron out.

He could even tell what Malfoy was thinking, sometimes.

He observed a conversation between Malfoy and a giggling third year girl that made his blood boil one day. She was asking for his help with a problem, but it was becoming clear that her only real problem was being completely smitten with Malfoy. From the bemused look on Malfoy's face, he'd noticed.

Harry was livid.

While she had done nothing wrong, and Malfoy obviously didn't return her affections, Harry still wanted to punch something. He was completely, irrationally, and furiously angry with the girl.

He stormed into the Gryffindor common room, where Ron and Hermione were studying by the fire. They looked up at his noisy entrance.

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron asked.

"Nothing," Harry huffed.

"Malfoy again?" Ron sounded resigned.

Harry launched into a tirade, explaining the situation. Then he quieted and fumed. His friends exchanged glances.

"Harry," Hermione began. "I think you should take a close look at your feelings for Malfoy."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, annoyed.

"She means you want to shag him, mate," said Ron bluntly.

Harry stared as if the redhead had gone crazy.

"I think Harry wants to do a little more than shag him, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You're both mental!" protested Harry.

"You're in love with Draco, Harry," Hermione said. Ron nodded in agreement.

Harry shook his head. "Janus Thickey ward-certifiable, both of you," he said.

But once the idea was in his head, it wouldn't leave. He tried not to think about shagging Malfoy. How soft his lips would be, how smooth his skin. But he couldn't stop.

He observed the blond more closely than ever, delighting in Malfoy's laugh, his smile, his wit. Aching to have some of it - any of it; all of it, directed at himself.

It wasn"t until he woke from a dream about the Slytherin, hot, sweaty, and sticky, that he accepted the truth. He buried his face in his hands and groaned.

"Bloody hell; I'm in love with Malfoy."

He hadn't realized it was possible to become more aware of Malfoy than he had been, but he did. Thoughts of the blond consumed him, waking or sleeping.

Harry thought he might be going mad.

He realised he would have to do something, and soon. But how? The blond had no interest in his friendship, let alone more.

Harry realised he would just have to try harder.

He pondered how to do that while he followed the blond outside under his invisibility cloak. Malfoy had swiped a few apples - always with the apples, he had an obsession with them, and damn if Malfoy could make the simple act of eating an apple look sexy - and he'd taken off, careful to avoid any admirers who might try to follow him.

Except for Harry under cover of his cloak.

Harry slipped after him and stopped, stilling as Malfoy flopped down under a tree. He took out another green apple from his pocket and rolled it in his palms. Harry stood and watched him a little while, until Malfoy's voice broke the silence.

"Potter," Malfoy drawled. "If I must suffer your presence, you might as well take off the bloody cloak and sit down."

Harry's jaw dropped, and for a moment he stood there in shock. How had Malfoy known he was there? How had he known about the cloak?

Malfoy huffed. "Honestly, Potter, I've known about that damn cloak since the train in sixth year. It's not like you can just stand there and fool me that way."

Harry winced, remembering, and instinctively reached up and rubbed his nose. He slid the cloak off and folded it over his arm.

"How'd you even know I was there?" he asked.

"A herd of rampaging hippogriffs is quieter than you at your stealthiest, Potter," came the answering sneer.

Harry snorted, knowing that wasn't true, but acknowledging to himself that he'd still been breathing pretty heavy when he approached the lake.

"So what brings you out here, in an invisibility cloak, no less?"

Harry debated for a moment, then decided he had nothing to lose. "I was looking for you, actually." He drew in a deep breath and waited. The ball was in Malfoy's court now. Would he toss it back?

He stared into the slate-grey eyes that had haunted his every waking and sleeping moment for months as he waited for a response.

Okay, maybe he was a little obsessed. But this was his chance, and if obsession had granted him that, so be it.