Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers

It's simple, really. I love J.K. Rowling, and I would never attempt to take any credit for her beautiful characters or stories. I'm just borrowing them, so please don't take offense.

Chapter 1: The Trick Is To Keep Breathing

Draco Malfoy had known that Harry Potter was trouble; he had been, ever since the beginning of the year when he had returned to Hogwarts for their seventh year. He had completely changed over the course of a few months. He had grown confident, even arrogant. But he was also aloof. The expressiveness of his face was gone; in its place was a mask. A cool, calm mask that was bested only by the Malfoy patented one. You used to be able to tell what Potter was thinking. Now, there was no hint. Even his eyes had shuttered themselves closed. On September 1^st, Draco had walked up behind him, where he was standing on Platform 9 ¾. He had heard the rumours, but he wanted to know if he could still get under Harry's skin.

* * *

"Hey, Scarhead! You might want to wait up for the Weasel and the Mudblood. After all, we wouldn't want them to get into any accidents on the train."

Draco sneered in his most intimidating manner and watched as Harry turned to look at him. He hoped for at least a small flicker of anger, but he couldn't see anything behind this new facade. It was completely blank. There was nothing there.

"Malfoy." A courteous nod and he had turned to walk away.

Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Ice Prince, lost his composure instantly.

"What the bloody hell, Potter?! Is that the best you can do?"

The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Pain-In-Draco-Malfoy's-Arse continued walking away. Draco silently reminded himself to pick his jaw up from the floor where it had just fallen and tried to control himself. It lasted until he started noticing the looks Potter was receiving from every single person that he passed. Not the regular awed stares. These looks were filled with...lust. Draco stormed off to his compartment, where Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were waiting for him. He cast a few silencing spells and promptly lost it.

"What the bloody hell is going on?! This wasn't supposed to happen! He can't ignore me. I'm Draco-bloody-Malfoy! I deserve respect! He can't just walk away from me!"

Greg and Vincent exchanged a look. This was not an irregular speech. They settled down for a long wait while Draco continued to rant.

* * *

Everyone knew that the Golden Boy had always been good-looking, but now he was almost radiant. Rumours flew: he was half-Veela; he used a daily beauty potion. The few religious people in the school even claimed that he was part-God. He was unnaturally gorgeous now, and every person in the school, male or female, noticed. Draco Malfoy noticed the most.

* * *

This new Harry Potter slept around, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. He wasn't cold to his many lovers or intentionally hurtful, but he wasn't faithful, either. He couldn't seem to fall in love.

"You don't fall out of love with Harry Potter."

It was a sort of mantra to everyone that knew Harry. Once you fell, you never got up. And everyone who knew the Golden Boy knew it. It was like an addiction. When his attention was on you, you walked on air; you thought you could die at that moment, even though his presence made you feel that eternal life was just beyond your grasp. You thought you could die, despite all of this, and still be ridiculously, horribly happy. When he looked away, even if he wasn't looking at someone else, you despaired, you longed for that perfect death. He was no longer only yours, and it hurt with a cold burn. But then he would look back at you, if you were lucky, and the world would miraculously be right-side up again.

Yes, Draco Malfoy knew that Harry Potter was trouble. He knew because he couldn't stop thinking about him. He was becoming obsessed.

Draco therefore knew, without a doubt, that he himself was in trouble.