Unrequited Love

One day, Harry was sitting in the Great Hall at breakfast when he suddenly noticed a brilliant beacon of light coming from the other side of the room. He looked up and over and what did his eyes see but the most fantastic vision of androgynous perfection he had ever seen.

It was Draco Malfoy.

"Hot damn," Harry said. "When'd he get so hot?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Since the fourteenth of September, Harry. Everyone knew that."

"Yeah," Ron chimed in. "Everyone was talking about it, then doing something about it, then finally just being broken hearted and venereal diseased about it."

"I got crabs!" chimed in Neville proudly. "It was the best fifteen minutes of my life!"

"Where were you?" asked Ginny. "I thought he'd gone through the entire school with his snarky wit and dashing looks. Even Dumbledore and Winky got in on the lovin'."

Harry looked blank, and then changed from his normal expression to confused. "I don't remember noticing."

"Well, that's not really new. Remember last month when we had the Quidditch co-ed sleep over and you actually slept instead of getting in on the shower fun?" Ron asked, smiling at the memory. Ginny giggled, thinking, most likely, of that same memory.

"That was a blast," Hermione agreed.

"You aren't on the Quidditch team," Harry protested.

"Just because you aren't on the team doesn't mean you can't ride a broom," Hermione said in her ever-suffering tone. "Honestly."

Harry shook his head, trying to clear the mental images before deciding that the mental images were rather nice, and perhaps he shouldn't get rid of them quite yet. He stored them in the back of his mind, where he kept his common sense, and resumed gazing at Draco.

"Do you think he'd want to go out with me and hold hands and walk around the lake?" Harry asked, fighting back a swoon as Draco laughed at something Crabbe said, revealing perfect white teeth.

"No, but I think he'd shag you silly in a broom closet. Maybe up in the Astronomy Tower if you catch him on a good night," offered Seamus. Nods around the table, agreeing to this assessment of Draco's romanticism.

"He is rather busy," Dean added. "You can't really expect him to clear time out of his schedule of deflowering third years to hold your hand."

Harry continued to gaze meaningfully at Draco, hoping to catch his eye. Suddenly, he did. As he stared into that molten silver eye, he felt something deep within him twinge and gurgle, and he gasped. So this was what true love felt like.

He gasped again, hands involuntarily clutching at his midsection as Draco's almighty mojo overpowered him.

"Harry?" Ron asked, concerned. "Is the tuna surprise disagreeing with you again? You should go to Madam Pomfrey- I don't want a repeat of last week's chili incident."

"Meet me," Harry mouthed to Draco, ignoring Ron's vivid storytelling of the chili incident.

Draco gave him a meaningful look, from which Harry discerned that he was to be at the Astronomy tower at nine-thirty sharp.

Harry nodded, and stared back meaningfully. Though this point of view doesn't really allow us to know what Draco discerned from this look, just let it be known that Harry's look translated to, "Do you have any sea slug juice?" or possibly, "I have broccoli growing in my ears."

Draco got up, and sauntered out of the Great Hall. Necks all around turned to rubber as they craned to watch the fine backside that was somehow admirable even through school robes. The professors all felt superior as they had an unrestricted view from their elevated table. Some of the first and second years stood on their chairs to watch him leave.

The door banged shut, and just like that, everyone returned to their meals, talking of Quidditch and homework and sex, just like always. Except, of course, Harry Potter, who was still gazing at the Slytherin table as though the object of his affection still sat there.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, concerned. He continued to stare at the wall. "Harry." No response. She smacked him upside the head, and yelled "Harry!" very loudly.

He looked over at her, aggravated. "What?"

"You're staring at Slytherin's wall."

"What, so now it's Slytherin's wall? What happened to it being the Great Hall wall? Huh? Does every single bloody thing have to be divided between houses, as though we're some street gang in Compton?"

"Because it's green, and that's Slytherin's color?" Ron asked, looking at the wall, which was indeed green. There were yellow, blue, and red walls as well. It looked like a big crazy funhouse, done up in Superman colors. Except for the green, which of course signified that they were Evil. If your color wasn't on Superman's super tight spandex underwear-on-the-outside costume, then of course it was Evil. With a capitol E.

Harry idly wondered what Draco would look like dressed as Superman, but then turned his formative cognitive processes onto a more important topic.

"Why does green have to be the Slytherin color? My eyes are green, does that make me a Slytherin?" Harry wailed quietly.

"It's because the Founders were playing strip poker, and the color of the underwear that they were wearing that night became their house colors. Gryffindor was nearly white with red hearts, you know, if it hadn't been for that fortunate pudding incident that day at dinner. It's all in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione answered promptly.

"But what about my almost-Slytherin angst?" Harry said, almost fascinated with talk of dead men's underwear.

"I thought you were trying to complain about the fact you look like Christmas every time you dress up for Quidditch, but got sadly confused somewhere in the middle," Hermione said.

Harry clunked his head against the table. "Where'd the light of my life go?"

"Your wand's in your pocket."

"No, my sweet ferret of love."

"Try your other pocket, though I wish you hadn't shared that name for it with me."

"No, Draco!"

"He left. Half an hour ago. Remember the neck craning?"

"Oh."

*

It was nine-fifteen. Harry had decided to show up at the Astronomy Tower a little bit early, since it was such a big deal. He was finally going to become the first true love in Draco's life. After all, after seeing Harry's fine arse, how could anyone not fall completely in love with him? All that you needed to base love on was sex appeal, after all.

He pushed open the door and got more of a glimpse of Professor Sprout than he had even wanted. He shut the door very quickly. Five minutes later, Professor Sprout walked out of the Astronomy Tower, a big silly grin on her face. "We'll discuss your Herbology grade a bit more tomorrow night, right, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Of course, Professor Sprout," Draco drawled lazily in return.

Harry stepped into the Astronomy Tower tentatively, and said, "Is that how you're on top of the class in Herbology?"

"No," Draco smirked. "But it is why I have the best marks. In every class."

"Even Care of Magical Creatures?" Harry asked, fascinated by the logistics.

"Yep."

Harry wanted to ask, he really did, but he just couldn't seem to force his poor mouth to form the words.

"But that's not what we're here for," Draco said, lazing back against the purple velvet pillow on the round bed, obviously showing his very nude body off to the best advantage. Harry was pleased to note that his daydreams had done Draco justice, as he was quite sufficiently endowed.

Then Harry looked around again, and noted, "You know, it normally doesn't look like a pimp decorated up in herre."

"It suits my purposes," Draco replied. He waved his wand, and Marvin Gaye began to croon "Let's Get It On" from somewhere in the rafters. Harry looked up, hoping to sneak a glimpse of the spectral singer, but alas he was too spry to be spotted.

"Well," said Harry, feeling a mite awkward. He hadn't ever found himself in room that looked like the honeymoon suite at the Motel 8 with the love of his life sprawled out naked in front of him before.

"Get over here," snapped Draco, obviously not digging the shy, awkward virgin act.

"Mmph," said Harry as he found Draco's mouth on his. And it tasted like honey. And maybe a bit like garlic from the bread served at dinner. Maybe it actually only tasted like garlic, and the honey had been an attempt at making this romantic on Harry's part. Either way works.

"Clothes. Off. Now," Draco commanded.

"Okay," said Harry. He removed his shoes, and his robes, and his shirt and tie and pants and jumper and belt and socks and was left standing in his tighty whiteys, or, more accurately, saggy used-to-be-whiteys before Dudley had used them in an experiment involving pudding, parsley, and pop tarts. Their current color can be left up to the imagination.

Draco stared at them in disgust, glancing across the room where his own black silk boxers were draped across a telescope.

"Remove those..." Draco's disgust overrode his mental thesaurus. "Now."

"Okay," said Harry, and stepped out of them.

And then they fell unto one another, and made the beast with two backs. Well, actually, they made the beast with one back and rather spazzy and contortionist bedtime habits, but whatever. They got it on.

Harry looked deep into Draco's eyes, positive that his awe inspiring libido had made Draco fall madly in love with him. Draco just said, "Out. I've got another tryst planned in five minutes."

"Oh," said Harry, smile fading. He sadly dressed, and left the Astronomy Tower. He ran into Ginny on his way to Gryffindor Tower, and warned her, "He's busy."

"Oh, I know," said Ginny. Her hands were behind her back, but Harry had gotten a glimpse of what she had.

"Is that whipped cream?" he asked.

"Yes. Yes, it is. Must dash," Ginny said, and fled up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower.

Harry stared after her, then headed morosely back to the common room.

"Alas," he announced as he approached his friends in the common room.

"Alas?" Hermione asked. "Isn't that rather out of character? Shouldn't you be yelling or something over Draco's pitiful post-coital manners?"

"How'd you know he rejected me?" Harry asked. "How'd you know that my considerable masculine wiles were not enough to forever bind him to me in slave-like love?"

"Well, why would they?" Hermione asked. Ron stared, and began to ask, but Hermione cut him off "I mean, I haven't experienced your.. masculine wiles for myself, but it serves to reason that if even sex god Professor Snape can't turn Draco towards a monogamous relationship, then the tortured hero doesn't have a chance."

"I will find a way to win Draco's fancy!" Harry proclaimed loudly. This elicited little to no response from the Gryffindors. "Or else I shall.. I shall... I'll turn myself over to Lord Voldemort, since I will have no will to live without my snugglebunny."

"Be sure to not mention that ultimatum to Malfoy," called Colin Creevey, "because then he'd reject you out of pure meanness."

There was scattered agreement to this.

"I'm going to go see Dumbledore," Harry said. No one paid him any mind. He left the common room, and went to Dumbledore's office.

"Professor," he said, ignoring the fact that Dumbledore was, in fact, Headmaster, solely because Harry could not say 'headmaster' without turning bright red. He was so mentally twelve years old.

"Hello, Harry, m'boy," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"I was wondering..." Harry began.

"Yes?"

"Would you arbitrarily decide that I needed to share a private room in an obscure part of the castle with Draco on the flimsy premise of inspiring unity between the houses?"

Dumbledore considered this. "Well, despite the fact that encouraging sexual relations between two randy teenage boys at a boarding school is a highly irregular thing for any person in a position of authority to do, I believe that sounds like a smashing idea. And I'm just kooky enough that no one will complain! Go forth and make mad monkey love! You have my blessing!"

And forth Harry went.

He and Draco moved in together, Draco complaining surprisingly little because he figured that he could always continue his numerous and surprisingly kinky affairs with the rest of the student body in his new private quarters.

Harry just kept grinning like an idiot because he thought that they were practically engaged, since they were living together and all.

One day, Harry decided to make Draco an honest boy. "Draco, will you marry me?"

Draco stared at Harry blankly. "Come again?"

Harry went down on one knee, and held out a glittery ring. "I want us to get married and have lots and lots of babies and be part of a big loving extended family."

"..." said Draco, and he shook his head. "Potter. I'm going to marry a girl."

"But- but you like me!"

"But you aren't pureblood. And you're physically incapable of making babies with me. And if you could make babies, they would possibly be dark haired, and no Malfoy shall be as common as that. Plus, you know perfectly well how strung up I am over my bloodline. Why would I marry you and let it die?" Draco glared at Harry.

"But we loooove one another!" Harry wailed.

"Speak for yourself," Draco said. "Now leave. Father and the Dark Lord are due here in half an hour and I must erase all evidence of your existence from my living space. Go and pretend you don't exist somewhere."

Harry cried, and ran out of the room, and flung himself off the Astronomy Tower, memories of a better time with lots of pimped up furniture flitting through his head before his head smashed all over the pavement.

The End.