I Remember

I remember it happening, and I resent it. It was expected, it wasn't planned, but it was acknowledged. My stomach lurches every time I think of him, to think of it, to think of us.

To think of how it cannot be any more.

I remember it so clearly, it seems as though it is being played over and over again before me, the perfect image of it all, dancing infront of my eyes.

He was standing there, just by the lake, his hair squirming in the soft billowing wind. The stars were watching, they looked so superior, as if they knew what was going to happen. But then, I have always hated the stars. They remind me too much of his eyes.

I called to him; he looked around, his green eyes interfering with the perfect blue night. His eyes rested upon me.

He smiled, but only briefly.

I couldn't bear it, him looking so sad, I wanted to run to him, to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him everything would be all right. But I couldn't. And it wouldn't. It wouldn't all be all right.

This was it, and that was that.

I found my-self stopping a few inches infront of him. My hand reached out and brushed the strands of raven black hair that were dangled infront of his face aside, and cupped his face in my hand. He caught my hand, and pulled me closer to him.

His eyes boar into my own with an intensity I had not seen before.

Moments later, his mouth-covered mine I pushed my body closer to his and we melted, still embraced, to the floor.

We struggled momentarily with each other's clothes, until we lay entirely exposed in each other's arms.

The next hours were spent just exploring each other's bodies, his hands roamed over me, as did my own upon his.

My head spun with a million random thoughts, had I done my Divination Work, where had I left my Quidditch stick, and when did I lose my watch?

Finally exhausted, we simply lay still, under the stars.

The stars that seemed to know so much, the stars that I had always hated, the stars, who held our secret, of how the two greatest enemies, had become the two greatest lovers.

I reached for my cloak, and brought it up around us.

Moments later we were both lying asleep.

The morning after he had gone, I knew he would have gone that was why he had been standing by the lake in the first place: To go.

But I still found my-self shocked.

I still hate the stars; after all, it was beneath them, that he left.

The only comfort in them is the resemblance of his eyes, but it's never the same.

He never returned, and I doubt he ever will.

I loved him, I really did.

I find myself laughing at that.

A year ago I would have rather died than admitted, that I, Draco Malfoy, was in love with Harry Potter.