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 2: The Worst Day Since Yesterday

Days passed, and Draco wished for Harry to approach him, to look at him. He wanted to feel that indescribable feeling of having his attention. It had happened before this strange transformation, when they were squabbling children. Harry Potter was always looking at Draco Malfoy. Glaring, really. But this year, it had stopped. And Draco wanted it back with every fibre of his being. He tried being more obnoxious. But Potter seemed to be oblivious to him in a very, very unsettling way.

Sometimes in class, Draco would catch himself staring at the back of Harry's head, sighing and imagining things that were simply too good to be possible. Realizing that he was doing it again, he cursed softly. Harry's head whipped around. Apparently he hadn't cursed as softly as he had hoped. Silently cursing himself again, he lowered his eyes and pretended to be busy scribbling on his piece of parchment. When he deemed it safe to look up, he did so. He caught the piercing emerald gaze of Boy-Who-Lived, and his breath hitched in his chest. Harry's eyes were mesmerizing. They were undeniably gorgeous. Time stopped, and in that moment, Draco felt everything. He felt complete. Something that had been missing his whole life started shifting into place. Then the most unexpected thing happened. Harry smiled. And Draco forgot how to breathe. All too suddenly, he looked away, and the moment was gone. Draco remembered to inhale and simultaneously realised that things were rapidly spiralling out of his control.

* * *

He started avoiding Harry. He refused to meet his innocently enquiring gaze. He side-stepped him in class and when he bumped into him in the corridor, he quickly turned and ran in the opposite direction. He even tried to convince himself (unsuccessfully) to stop thinking about him. This worked for a few days. He knew that Potter noticed his new avoidances, and he knew that he was going to ask him about it. He could feel his question coming like some kind of impending doom.

That didn't change the surprise he felt when someone's hand clasped his shoulder. He spun around angrily and looked up into Harry's beautiful eyes.

"What's wrong, Malfoy?"

It was said without malice, without spite. But Draco didn't answer. He couldn't. He was lost in the green ocean of Potter- no, Harry's gaze. And he was screaming. Drowning.

He collected himself and mustered as much spite as he could.

"Didn't know you cared, Potter. Now, go find your Mudblood girlfriend and leave me alone," he spat.

He hadn't had much practice in the past month, but Draco was mildly relieved that he had pulled his old drawl off so well. Until he saw Harry's face. It was cool and unperturbed as usual. He hadn't been tricked in the slightest. Apparently the Malfoy mask was not working so well anymore.

"Come on, Draco. Let's go somewhere to talk." With that, Harry's hand dropped from Draco's shoulder to his wrist, and he yanked him into a broom closet. Draco, of course, noticed none of this, as he was stuck on the first part of what Harry had just said. Draco. He hadn't known how lovely his first name could sound. When he came back to himself, he realized that he was pressed uncomfortably close to the most shaggable boy in school. And if he didn't move away soon, Harry would know exactly what the problem was.