Try As I Might

You and me are like one heartbeat

So slice open my veins and let the romance bleed away

-Senses Fail-

I hate you.

Always so bloody perfect.

The first first-year to get on the house Quidditch team in over 500 years. And of course, you never lost a single match that year. Even though you were in and out of the hospital wing like a cheating husband is in and out of sleazy hotels.

And of course, you ruined my father’s perfect plan. You discovered the truth about the diary and returned it to my father with a nice hole in the center. Oh, he was angry. I was smart enough to stay out of his way, thus avoiding bruises on my flawless skin.

I hate the fact that you knew my weaknesses. That you saw how frightened I was in the Forbidden Forest in our first year. That you could hear the same fear in my voice in our fifth year, on our way to see the Thestrals. Yet another thing you could do that I couldn’t. Funny, you would think I’d seen plenty of death, considering my father’s – ahem – occupation. But, no, he shielded me from that. I wasn’t old enough, he said. But my time would come, that was for sure.

I hate that you have friends like you do. Friends who actually know you. Friends who give a rip if you live or die. Friends who at least have enough brains to make it on their own. And yet, choose not to. They choose to be your bloody sidekicks and don’t mind a bit that you get all the glory. Well, ok, Weasley minds sometimes, but he always gets over it in the end. And then it’s the Trio again. The bloody Dream Team. The ones everyone wants to know and practically everyone worships.

I hate the way I feel when I look at you. The way my heart gives a little twinge and I find myself struggling not to stare into your eyes. Emerald eyes. The only pair in the whole damn school that get to me like they do. I think if our eyes ever met, really met, that you would know all my secrets in a heartbeat.

I hate that about you too.

I’m a Malfoy. I’m supposed to have the ability to remain cool and collected in any situation. Perfectly sarcastic and apathetic and icy cold, like my father. But I never quite mastered the stony expression he wears so well. There are cracks in my armor and I get the feeling that you can see through them.

I hate the fact that that thought scares me so much.

I hate that I can’t escape you. Not even in my dreams. No, it is there that you always dwell. Doing things that invade my waking thoughts and make heat rise to my face. Blushing, one thing only you have ever made me do. From the first time you rejected my offer of friendship. I had never been rejected. And it stung. I felt embarrassed and I resolved to make you pay.

For a while, I was doing a good job, but then you developed an immunity to my taunts.

I hate the fact that, when we returned for sixth year, and you were withdrawn and quiet and quite obviously depressed, I wanted to comfort you. Malfoys comfort no one.

I hate that, even though I tried hard to keep my concern in check, I still found myself acting as your shadow night after night. And that one night, you caught me.

I hate the fact that, when I threatened to curse you, you didn’t even try to fight. You looked at me with those brilliant eyes, dark with emotion, and I felt something inside me snap.  

And then I kissed you.

I, Draco Malfoy, kissed Harry Potter.

Right in the middle of the corridor.

I hate you for kissing me back. For pressing your lips against mine and tangling your tongue with my own. For wrapping your fingers around the hair at the nape of my neck and clinging to me like I was your last hope.

And I really hate the fact that, then and there, I fell in love with you.

But the thing I hate the most is that, no matter how hard I try, I can’t hate you.

Go figure.

*~*fin*~*