Disclaimer: The plot is mine, but nothing else is.
Warning: Mild slash.
A/N: Sorry for such large gaps between updates. Honestly, I just haven't been in the mood to write this story. As I read through all of the chapters I cringe. It is way too rushed and eh... I'm just not happy with it. I do promise I will finish it and soon at that. I hope to rewrite it one day. Okay I'm done. On with the story.
The light that danced across Draco's face illuminated his pale skin, making him look like nothing short of an angel. The bright light must have disturbed him because his eyelids began to flutter rapidly. Suddenly, he opened his eyes.
Harry woke with a start with the vision of Draco's piercing, silver eyes still lingering in his mind.
Draco was sleeping soundly when he heard a distant voice call his name. Through the hazy fog in his mind, he couldn't place the voice.
"Draco," It called once again, although Draco completely ignored it, preferring the pleasant dream he was currently having.
The voice persisted.
He flung his hand blindly as if attempting to shoo away a particularly annoying fly. "F'kof," he mumbled before turning on his side and snuggling deeper into his down pillow.
"Draco! Wake up!"
A hand roughly shoved Draco, abruptly pulling him out of the delightful illusion. Angry from being awoken from the dream, he seethed, "What the hell do you what!"
For a brief moment Blaise recoiled, but as quickly as he backed off, he stepped forward.
"What do you think? Classes, you prat." he replied in annoyance.
The revelation caused him to moan loudly in agitation. With everything that was going on in his head, he had wholly forgotten that today was Monday, and that meant classes.
"Damn," he grumbled while pulling himself out of the tangled nest of blankets he had made throughout the night. After stumbling out of his four-poster, he walked to the bathroom anticipating a hot shower.
Draco turned on the tap and on got into the shower. The hot water caused him to gasp quietly. He loved hot showers. The steamy bathrooms and burning water was comforting to him in some odd way. It was a nice, quiet, relaxing place to think alone. At the moment, Draco was trying to remember what he was dreaming about, but the more he tried to remember, the less he could. With each passing second the details became blurrier and blurrier until he forgot it entirely.
Draco let the hot water pound on his back for a solid ten minutes before a loud rapping at the door brought him out of his daze.
"You're going to be late, you know!" Blaise voice called through the wooden door. Draco didn't miss the emphasis on the word you're rather than we're. Of course, being Slytherins, they wouldn't wait on him. This didn't bother him in the slightest, it was their Slytherin nature after all. It was expected.
After speedily dressing, Draco, Blaise, Grabbe, Goyle, and Theodore strutted down to the Great hall side-by-side, stepping in unison. Although it was quite annoying to walk like that, it made people intimidated.
Up until this point, Draco was mostly thinking about his brief encounter the pervious night.
He was amazed at how much he had transformed in a single night.
Sure, Draco seemed to be the same old Draco to everyone else, but in reality, he had changed.
Throughout the entire time he communicated with the stranger he could simply deny it, but he couldn't any longer. He, Draco Malfoy, could feel. Contrary to what most people believed, Draco's heart was not made out of stone. And every time he thought about him, it began to pump wildly, proving it's lively existence. This is how Draco knew. When he touched him it sent shivers through his entire body, and when he thought about him, he felt the strangest sensation in his abdomen. Draco knew it was love. And even although it was forbidden, he was in love.
His usually cold demeanor was still expertly in place, hiding how he had changed. To everyone surrounding him, he was the same as before. But he wasn't.
As Draco took his usual seat the table for breakfast he glanced around the hall.
Just think. The person I was with last night is probably sitting in this very room... Maybe even looking around for me, just as I am for him.
In spite of himself, he let out a small, rare smile.
"What is up with you?" Blaise asked while raising an eyebrow, bringing him out of his thoughts.
"Nothing," he sneered in return, plainly stating, 'It's none of your damn business.'
Draco silently shifted his eggs around on his plate, his stomach feeling too strange to handle any type of food. Bored of sitting there waiting for his friends to finish eating, he looked up, only to a pair of emerald eyes staring at him from across the room. The brilliant set of eyes continued to stare, ignoring the never-ending, animated babble of his friends.
Great. Harry Potter is staring at me, of all people.
Even though it was slightly suspicious, Draco didn't spare it a second thought at why. But he did continue to stare.
Potter's eyes held a ferocious intensity and an unplaced emotion. Draco felt himself unable to turn away. Even if he could, he wouldn't. To him, their staring contest became a full-fledged battle, just like their childish duels in the corridors. Draco refused to let himself look away. He wouldn't let Potter win this too.
Potter. Even as he thought the name it was spit out with smite. Draco felt nothing but loathing for him. The damn Golden Boy who refused his friendship and made him look like the fool in front of his friends. The stupid Gryffndor who beat him by a hair in every Quidditch match they played in. The bloody prat whom all of the teachers adored and favored, unlike him, who undoubtably deserved it more. Harry Potter, the boy-who-should-have-died, who stole his father's attention away from him... who Lucius Malfoy always talked about and payed more attention to than his own son. The idiot who had everything he wanted.
Unexpectedly, Potter looked away. He stood up and walked away from the table alone after whispering a quick something in Ron's ear. Draco's eyes followed his retreating back out of the Hall, daring him to turn around. And he did. As he passed through the door frame, Potter turned around and gave Draco a small, apologetic, sad smile, bewildering the Slytherin to no end.
Harry felt Draco's eyes burning two, very deep holes in his back as he slowly walked out of the Great Hall. Before Harry could stop himself, he turned at looked at him once again, giving him a sad smile. I'm sorry it's me. I'm sorry I'm the one. You have no idea... Of course, Draco hadn't heard his thoughts nor got the message Harry was sending, he felt sorry nonetheless.
The whole idea of the relationship was simply idiotic now that Harry thought about it. How did he actually think it could possibly work out between two strangers? The more he thought about it, the more stupid it sounded, and the more he hated himself to thinking it would turn out okay. And now that Harry knew his correspondent's identity, it made it all even more pointless.
Although Harry would never admit it, even under Vertiaserum, he actually entertained the thought of pursuing relationship with Draco. That would be after he, of course, prevented himself from being Aveda Kedavraed when he reveled who he was.
After the initial shock of who it was, it actually made a lot of sense. Harry thought about how things could be. He never really knew him, did he? He only saw the mask he wore. The real Draco wasn't the Malfoy he had always known and hated.
Even though he despised himself for thinking it, he needed him. Draco, for these past several fort-nights, had been his everything. Harry relied on him in a way he never did on Hermione or Ron. He had become his friend, confident, and lover. And Harry couldn't fathom his world without him.
How ironic is it that Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, would fall in love with Draco Malfoy, the Death-Eater's son? They were a pair of star-crossed lovers, doomed from the beginning.
What would he say? How would he react? Harry thought about all of the possibilities. He even considered not tell him at all, leaving him blissfully unaware who he really was. He dismissed the idea because he knew he would never be able to do it. He need to tell him. And soon. But how?
Harry's musings were interrupted by a very familiar voice.
"So, Potter..." he drawled out as Harry spun around quickly, finding himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. Harry watched, fascinated by Draco's pink-tinged lips moving ever so skillfully.
"I know I'm beautiful, but really, must you constantly drool over me? It is really quite disgusting."
"What are you talking about?" Harry replied forcefully, unaware of how to respond to a statement as true as that.
"Don't be thick. The Great Hall. You were staring at me"
"Oh...That." Harry fidgeted with his fingers while trying to think of an answer. "You were staring back." Just as he said it, the realization hit him. Draco stared back. He stared back without sneering nor making a rude hand gesture.
Maybe there was a small shard of hope?
"I was only marveling at your hideous hair," he replied quickly.
Maybe not.
"Whatever," Harry replied indifferently. He couldn't fight with Draco even if he tried. At the moment, he liked him too much to have a verbal brawl with him. It was too soon. Maybe in time he would be able to see him how he used to and hex him on sight but not now.
A few minutes ago Harry was daring to feel slightly hopeful at the possible relationship. But after the conversation with Draco, his hopes crashed, lying in a heap of rubble on the floor.
Harry stared at the floor mindlessly for a few moments, though it seemed like hours. He rose his head slowly.
"I'm so sorry," he said without elaborating any further. With that, he walked away leaving the Slytherin standing there in his wake, wide-eyed in confusion for the second time that morning.
A/N: As always, review.