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Goyle was talking. I wasn't listening. I had my mind on other things. Other people. Such as the dark haired boy sitting behind me. I wished once again that I could tell him that the mean remarks and the cold temperament was all an act but I couldn't. I was a Death Eater now and consequentially my father's son. It couldn't happen. Not for real.
I felt his eyes burning into my back but I couldn't turn and look at him. Not now. Goyle had stopped talking so I laughed evilly at whatever it was he said. He looked a little confused and I realised that was the wrong reaction. But I saved myself.
'I was thinking about what I'm going to do with Potter next time I get my hands on him,' I said, giving Crabb and Goyle my famous evil smirk. They snickered. I knew what I wanted to do. But it just wasn't possible. Not these days. Considering how much Voldemort wanted him dead I could guess what would happen to me if I got 'involved' with Harry Potter in and way, romantically or otherwise. It just wasn't the right time. I had confidence Harry would win this battle against the Dark Lord, and when he did I would tell him about my feelings. But then and only then would the truth come out.
As we walked out of class I found myself saying his name without thinking, 'Potter.' It hurt me to spit his name out so scornfully. But I was used to it now. I put on my infamous smile.
'What Malfoy?' he said, turning to face me.
'Nothing, I just felt like annoying you.' I want to do a lot more than annoy you, is what I was thinking as I pushed past him to continue down the hall. My arm tingled where we had touched.
'Draco, wait!' I heard him call desperately. I loved hearing him say my first name.
'What Potter?' I acted bored as I turned to look at him, secretly savouring every glance I could.
'I… I…' Say it, I was begging him, unfortunately in the privacy of my mind.
Out loud I replied, 'Save it Potter, I don't have time for your rubbish.' I continued down the hall, hoping he would stop me again. He didn't but I heard him speak almost inaudibly to himself.
I whispered one thing as I left, 'I love you too.'
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NA/N: (That stands for NON-AUTHOR'S NOTE, btw) Okay. This was written by one of my smexy friends who is too scared to post it under her own name. It's so not mine. You'd be able to tell if it was mine, because there'd be a lot of hot boysmex and angsty poo. So, Shealti - I mean, NAMELESS (phew! I almost gave away your name!) - carry on in your het ways!