Well, it's finally here. I'm not quite sure how I feel about it, but I decided to just go ahead and post it anyway. Thanks for sticking it out until I updated. Your reviews were wonderful!

AOME: CHP 17

Why I had thought trying to write was a good idea I shall never know, for the only thing I accomplished was successfully wasting a sheet of parchment with broken, incoherent phrases that barely resembled English.

I realized this rather quickly, and immediately abandoned the attempt for doodling aimlessly across the parchment. A curvy line sustained my attention for awhile before I lost interest and switched to the intricacies of a heart. Complex, eh?

It wouldn't have been had it remained a simple shape. Soon, however, a frayed rope appeared around it, followed by a padlock and chain, some cracks on its surface. A stitched wound appeared next, followed by a patched hole.

I stared at the horrible creation for a few moments before dropping my quill abruptly, as if it was hot to the touch. Had I honestly reduced myself to morbid doodles as a solution to my problems? How disgustingly cowardly could I get?

Feeling suddenly emboldened, I twisted in my chair to catch a glimpse of Draco.

Now, I'm not one who is surprised easily; with six older brothers you'd be amazed how many times I had experienced someone spontaneously jumping out of a closet or grabbing one of my ankles from beneath my bed. As such, I had developed a sort of tolerance, if you will, to being caught off guard.

Despite all of this, what I saw absolutely blew my mind.

For you see, Draco was sitting in the armchair, buried in the psychology tome once again, as if nothing had happened.

That image, that disgustingly terrifying image, caused a pressure to begin building deep within my chest. I could feel it intensifying with each passing moment, until it suddenly burst, aching fiercely, as if something had broken. I had no idea what the feeling was; I only knew that it was excruciatingly painful.

And then my eyes started to burn.

No. I couldn't be. It just plain and simple couldn't be.

Panicking, I rose from the chair, knocking the desk in the process, and hurtled up the stairs two at a time. Only moments after I slipped into the safe sanctuary of the deserted hallway and closed the door behind me were my fears confirmed: I was crying.

Seeing him sit there, completely natural as if nothing had happened, had broken me. This is precisely what I had feared, and it turns out I was right all along. I stifled a sob, unable to help thinking that it would have been better to have him shoot me down directly. The apathy was worse, as he obviously didn't even care enough to tell me how he felt. I wasn't worth the time. And if he didn't care that much, well, I certainly didn't want him to see me crumble at his feet.

I suddenly felt as if I couldn't get enough air despite the deep, heaving breaths I was taking. The pub felt like a cage, and I longed to escape from this nightmare if only for a moment.

Struck with need, I rushed down the hallway and slipped as quietly as I could through the door to the building.

The air was biting, though I welcomed the feeling. The wind had died down significantly and only a few scattered flakes were falling lazily from the sky. The instant I was entirely outside I allowed myself to sob, not even trying to examine why. In the long-run it didn't matter, anyhow. I just couldn't contain everything anymore. I welcomed the release.

I wrapped my arms around myself and hunched over slightly, hoping that it would somehow hold me together as I fell completely apart. The worst of it was that there was absolutely nothing I could do to fix any of it—this was out of my hands.

I don't know how long I stayed like that, watching as my tears melted a small part of the snow on the front stoop, listening to the complete silence. Eventually, though, the heaving sobs stopped, leaving only a raw, aching hole in my chest, and it was only when I began to feel the cold slightly numb my entire body from the inside out did I leave the fresh air.

I reentered the building in a somewhat dazed state, unaware of how I was even functioning. My mind was entirely blank, leaving me with only the hollow sensation in my chest to occupy my thoughts. Somehow, despite my lack of cognizance, my feet managed to carry me back to the door of the room.

My chest tightened painfully as I recognized and sensed the presence on the other side of the door. I stepped inside and carefully made my way down the stairs, taking care to avoid looking in his direction at all costs. I paused at the desk chair, squeezing my eyes shut momentarily due to the sting breathing caused in his presence.

I opened my eyes to find myself staring at my journal. It was then that I noticed something was horribly, horribly wrong.

My heart was no longer on the page at all. Instead, in a clean yet distinctly male script, were three words.

I do care.

At first I didn't believe they were there. I read them over and over again, sure they would disappear at any second. The only thing that disappeared even slightly, however, was my doubt. The meaning of what was written on the page began to sink in, though it still seemed too good to be true.

I turned quickly, half-expecting Draco to be buried in the pages of the book once more. I nearly recoiled in surprise when I turned to see him looking at me with a clenched jaw and serious expression. My stomach flipped over.

It all felt so real, but I still couldn't believe it. Though it may have been slightly foolish and incredibly juvenile, I did what first came to mind—I wrote a response on the paper with a shaking hand.

I don't think that's possible.

I wanted to believe it. Trust me, I really wanted to believe it. In fact, part of me was cursing wildly for not already doing so when the words were right there on the parchment. Still, how could I just accept that for true when he had acted in such a way earlier?

I moved from the desk to the already folded pile of clothing I had worn that day, and promptly began refolding for no apparent reason. I swallowed nervously when Draco caught my eye, and I glanced at the journal as a means of response. He understood and rose, and I distinctly noticed the way the psychology tome all but fell to the floor when he did so, completely abandoned.

I continued fidgeting with the laundry while he wrote, the scratching of the quill sending nervous chills through my body. Part of me wanted to be peering over his shoulder intently, while the other was petrified he was going to respond that it was all a joke, and thus was perfectly content with pretending to fold clothing. I had already begrudgingly accepted the fact that said charade was about as affective as Draco's feigned interest in the book on the floor, but I didn't quite care, as long as it kept my hands from shaking.

He sauntered back to the chair and gracefully fell back into his previous position.

I lasted, oh, about two seconds after his arse hit the cushion before my obsessive curiosity got the best of me. Hey, that was a long two seconds, alright? There was an inner battle and everything: did I want to risk looking completely and ridiculously needy in order to sate my curiosity? Yes, yes I did. Anyway, given my current mental state, it's amazing I lasted that long.

I dropped the clothing in a heap on the floor that was distinctly messier than the one I had started with and all but tripped over myself in my haste to get to the desk. You'd think I'd ran a marathon by the time I got there, too. My heart was pounding, and I was quite nearly out of breath. The words written nearly made me shiver.

Turn around and I'll prove it.

I could almost hear his voice, demanding and almost threatening in his cold, confident manner. It was a bit intimidating, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous beyond all reasoning. How in the name of God did he expect to prove this? By sitting around in an armchair looking gorgeous?

Despite my uncertainty I assented and turned around, only to find myself so surprised by the fact that he had risen in that short time frame that I nearly recoiled. That alone was kind of alarming, but the thing that took the cake was that I turned around and very nearly collided with a chest. Draco's chest, to be exact.

At a complete loss for words, my brain attempted to ask what he was doing at the same time my body nearly moaned in an exceedingly embarrassing manner. The verbal result was a mix of the two, which sounded remotely like, "Wha-ooh..".

My eyes, of course, traveled to his own on their own accord, causing the inevitable to ensue. My entire body began to tremble from the inside out. I felt weak, like I was spinning out of control. I attempted to move backwards, but found that the desk was preventing any means of escape. My disbelief concerning what was happening was no doubt written on my face as clear as his words on the page.

When one corner of his mouth twitched after I sent him a somewhat desperate look, I knew such a thing had been no accident.

Still, what in the name of all that was holy was he doing? Hadn't we already been over this? I had told him exactly what would happen if this occurred. I saw no way how reiterating the fact that I was ridiculously attracted to him was going to prove that he cared the way I did.

Whether he could tell what I was thinking or not I wasn't sure, but if he could he didn't seem deterred by it. A hand snaked around my waist, beckoning me closer to him. I swallowed, having no choice but to oblige. His fingers wandered across the small of my back aimlessly before his other hand found its way to my neck once again. I flinched at his touch, only because I knew my reaction would be incredibly embarrassing. I wasn't disappointed.

I attempted to send him some nonverbal signs of disproval, but you can really only do so much when an attractive young man has you nearly pinned against a desk, especially when a very large part of you is enjoying it.

Draco didn't seem to notice or care about my disproval, as small as it was. As his fingers continued to slide over my skin, he was staring at me with the most serious, intense expression I had ever seen. His eyes were burning so furiously it was nearly frightening, though in an unusual way. It took me a moment to place the strange emotion, simply because I hadn't been expecting to experience it concerning Draco anytime soon—anticipation.

Bloody hell, did that make me a slag?

When I felt his muscles shift forward even farther, and when I felt the lines of his body finally press up against mine, I think I stopped breathing. I wasn't exactly sure, you see, for I was a bit distracted by something far more important. To be quite honest, I'm not sure how I managed to remain standing during this time—the feel of his form against me was something akin to heaven.

I suppose I'll be easy to please in the afterlife, eh? Just give me a Draco Malfoy and I'll be good to go.

A tingling sensation began to shoot up my spine, as if the pleasure center of my brain was on overload, and his fingers continuing to send ripples of ecstasy through my skin.

Okay, now you may call me slow for saying this, but despite all that was happening, I still hadn't the foggiest idea as to what was going on. Once again, I was distracted. And if you don't find that reasoning valid then that simply means you have never felt the glorious sensation of Draco's lean muscles pressing into you, driving you positively crazy. If you had, you would accept that as reasoning for just about anything.

Anyhow, I have no idea how long we remained like that, his thighs pressing into mine, his eyes melting me and his arms holding me together. In fact, I was completely in the dark, though comfortably, until his eyes fell to my lips.

In that instant, my world froze, completely and utterly. I have experienced forgetting to breathe, but never had I been so shocked where I actually physically couldn't breathe. I was completely paralyzed. My heart arrested completely, my very pulse faltering. For something that I thought I would experience only in my dreams it felt exceptionally real. Perhaps I had finally flown over the cuckoo's nest and was imagining it all. It was certainly plausible.

I watched as his molten eyes narrowed slightly, which I was now able to recognize as a sign of concentration, before he began to move toward me at an agonizing pace. My pulse went from nearly nonexistent to racing in a mater of moments, my breathing growing shallower and shallower with each lost inch. I was utterly intoxicated by the way his eyelashes were sweeping over the pale cheeks under his heavy lids.

Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, he stopped, an almost undetectable distance from me. I glanced down to his lips, which were slightly parted, back up to his eyes. He met my gaze, then, in a gesture that I found to be extremely vulnerable, slightly erotic, and almost open. Somehow, I'm not quite sure how exactly, but somehow I knew that this was his way of telling me he wasn't afraid. He was exposing the fact that he too, was very affected, telling me he knew what he was doing. Though he didn't say a word, it was the closest I had felt to him all day. That one moment of allowing me to touch his soul was all it took for the doubt about his claim to vanish.

And then, in the second following, Draco Malfoy kissed me.

Some people say that when someone kisses you right you feel triumphant—like you're on top of the world, or floating amongst the clouds with the angels. They say your heart burns with passion, as if empowered.

That may be true, it may not be. I really don't have much to base it off, you see, because unless I'm very much mistaken, I rocketed past 'right' and went straight to 'perfect', for it was nothing like the aforementioned.

I say it's more like your heart breaks into a thousand pieces, as if so overwhelmed by emotion it finally gives in and surrenders completely. You don't feel empowered at all, but rather like you're offering up a part of yourself, exposing everything, losing control, and above all permitting another to know all of this. It sounds unbearable, I'm sure, but it's worth every second of it for one simple reason: you're getting the exact same thing in return. It was all velvet, slow and drugging.

The world began to distort around me, though whether or not it was because of the kiss or a lack of oxygen I'm not sure. He pulled away then, and I winced with the loss of contact.

My eyes, which had apparently fallen shut at some point, opened to find two swirling gray ones. I've never seen the inside of a tornado, but I'd imagine that if I could, it'd look exactly like Draco's eyes—the eye of the storm.

I took a few breaths and decided that the lightheaded feeling was most definitely not from lack of oxygen.

"God," I breathed, unable to throw off the effects.

His eyes grew a bit more intense at that. "How's that for proving it, then?" he asked, in a tone I'd never heard before but instantly decided I loved, just the same.

I started to speak. "It—well, that is—" I realized I didn't know. I hadn't really been looking for that type of confirmation, yet it had confirmed something in my mind. I decided to be honest. "It wasn't what I was expecting."

I had been thinking he'd finally confide in me—share things about himself, his worries, his fears, his life, his dreams.

'Course, had I actually expected him to open up to me and pour out his feelings? Not really, but it was what I had been hoping for.

Not that I disproved of his method by any means, mind you.

He smiled a bit at my words, glancing to the floor momentarily. "I'm not much good at saying things when I need to sometimes." He quirked a brow and grinned before continuing, "Besides, I think I prefer this means to yours, anyhow."

He had a point.

He smirked again, glancing down at his chest. "Seems you did as well."

I followed his gaze and it was only then that I noticed I was holding a fistful of his shirt in each hand.

Right then. That was embarrassing.

I felt my face positively burn. I couldn't be sure, but I think I put Ron to shame.

I promptly released my grip on the garment and began pulling away only to find him quicker. With what I can only call the reflexes of a Seeker he effortlessly caught one of my hands with his own. When I looked up into his eyes again the mirth was gone, replaced with something that floored me.

Sincerity. I had suspected it once or twice before, but I had absolutely no doubt that this time it was the real thing. It's one of those emotions you can't fake; when you experience something so genuine, you just know. Draco was choosing to be sincere with me. The realization melted me.

"It's okay, you know," he murmured. He moved my hand back to his chest, flattening my palm gently under his over a particular portion.

I nearly started crying again when I felt his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. The soft pulse of it seemed to wrap me in a blanket of comforting warmth and reassurance. The gesture spoke volumes.

No, it wasn't the type of confirmation and openness I had been hoping for, but you had to start somewhere. There was now no doubt in my mind that he cared, and that was all that mattered. He didn't have to tell me all his secrets and feelings right away, because I was beginning to think that for Draco I would wait until the far side of forever.

END CHP 17

I hope that was a little bit more closure than last chapter. Please let me know what you thought- this one was terribly hard for me to write.