Part One
The taunting had stopped. But it hadn't just died down. All Malfoy had said to Harry was,
"Have a nice life, Potter," after Harry and the blond Slytherin had shuffled with their trunks, leaving them both with bumps on the foreheads.
It had ceased completely.
All Draco saw when he looked at Harry was warmth. It was hard not to, as the boy glowed with the essence of life, like a Gryffindor common room fire. He seemed to be the epitome of sunshine. Draco wanted the energy, the fire. He wanted to feel Harry's arm melt the pale ice that Draco's hands seemed to be made of.
Draco wanted Harry's warmth, and light. And love.
Each night, Draco dreams were of Harry, the only thing that really kept him alive.
Unrequited love was like no other.
Harry observed Malfoy, noticed his weaknesses, like easy frustration when difficult became impossible. Without the previous threat, Harry grew to enjoy the moments when he could sneak down to the library in his Invisibility Cloak and noiselessly sit across the table from Malfoy, whose quirks and habits made him interesting, a side Harry had never seen before.
Harry could tell that Malfoy knew he was being watched, even if he didn't know who was watching or how. Harry continued discreetly.
Draco could feel eyes on him. He would slowly look up and inconspicuously behind him, but he never saw anyone.
He habitually laid in the grass outside Hogwarts, ever hoping for a quiet moment. He had once seen a few Muggles in a park, doing a think called "flying kites". It seemed fun, now that Draco had nothing else to occupy him.
Draco began to care less about old matters in his life, as they seemed only bits and pieces. He felt he was living in someone else's life, or that he was just an actor in a play.