Clear

Draco was trying to do his Potions essay. So far, he had two sentences. It did not help whatsoever that Crabbe and Goyle were in the next bed, talking about the latest Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match last Saturday, and all the acrobatic moves that Potter had put on just to show off.

Draco scowled. He had actually seen the Weasley girl giving Potter a short hug after the match was over. Who would want to hug a dirty, sweaty, Potter? Just because his messy hair had been even more wind-blown, just because his stupid green eyes were practically glittering from the adrenaline, and just because his cheeks had been flushed to make him appear almost pretty...

It was all so helpless. Sitting here, going into fits over Potter, but not being able to do anything about it. Draco did not like feeling helpless. He wasn't a girl stuck in a tower. Speaking of which...damn that Weasley girl! This was all her fault. If she wasn't so touchy-feely towards Potter, he wouldn't be feeling this way.

But what if she really was dating Potter? Draco would have to just sit there and take it, wouldn't he? It wasn't as if he could do anything about it. Again, the feeling of helplessness crept over him. Draco frowned. He was starting to hate vulnerability more and more. Malfoys were not helpless. They just weren't born to be. Malfoys were born to be assured, confident, poised and cool. Not waddling about in such a frightful manner.

He was almost ashamed of himself.

The voices next to him were rising louder and louder with each syllable, and Draco, in his already agitated state, blew up. "Gods! Will you two shut up? I don't want to hear anything to do with Potter right now."

Crabbe stopped mid-sentence. "Oh. Sorry," said Goyle. "But we couldn't help it - Potter's - "

"This is it. I'm not staying here." Draco climbed off his bed and swept out of the room, still frowning.

"Draco, where are you going?" called Crabbe.

"To Hell," came the answer.

Draco mused over his choice reply to Crabbe. Wasn't he in Hell already? If anyone asked him to describe what Hell would be, Draco would have to say that it was a place where you could only watch as Potter and the Weasley girl got their stuff on.

He sighed. Perhaps a walk around the gardens would clear his mind. He couldn't hope that it would clear his mind off Potter, but at least it might calm him down and stop him from wanting to hex any girl that came near Potter.

He stopped suddenly, just about to step through the hedges that fenced off the gardens from the rest of the grounds around Hogwarts.

Sitting on the fountain, smack in the middle, was Potter. Fucking Potter. His profile was turned towards Draco, who watched as he reached out with a hand to caress the roses that surrounded him. Hadn't Potter noticed him yet?

"There you are, Draco, darling!"

He didn't even have to turn to know who it was.

***

Harry quickly looked up at the call. Malfoy. Malfoy was here, and his heart suddenly thundered in his chest, blood rushed to his face and a deep aching inside him made itself known.

Malfoy was standing at the entrance to the gardens, and he had turned his head slightly to look at Pansy, who had latched onto his right arm. "Draco, why didn't you tell me you were here? This is such a romantic place!"

All colour rushed back out of his head as quickly as it had gone up. But of course. Malfoy was here with Pansy.

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "What's Potter doing here?" She spat his name out as if it tasted bad.

"Nothing," said Malfoy.

"What I'm doing here has nothing to do with you, Pansy," scowled Harry, and watched as Pansy sniffed disdainfully and led Malfoy to a corner of the garden, where large bushes of pink roses were growing. Harry could still see them out of the corner of his eye.

"It's alright, Draco, darling, we can ignore him." She lowered her voice. "We can get a bit of privacy here, too."

And still, Malfoy didn't say anything, and chose, instead, to pluck a rose out of the bushes. Pansy wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling, tilting her head up to meet his. Malfoy was saying something, but Harry couldn't hear, and then he was mere centimeters away, sinfully long lashes falling over silver eyes like earlier today in Transfiguration, giving the same almost bashful look to him. Pansy's back was turned to Harry, but he could bet that the same longing would be painted all over her face. Her ugly pug-face, at that.

Malfoy was so close now that Harry could barely see his face. Even if he kissed her now, Harry wouldn't see.

It was as if a dagger was digging into his heart. He finally realized what people meant when they say 'stabs of jealousy'. Fucking ripping his heart out from his chest. Was it his imagination, or was his heart hurting for real? It was feeling real enough just then.

NO stop clinging to him stupid bitch don't touch him he's MINE get off him he's not yours to touch go away go away go AWAY stop touching him get your dirty hands off him you're tainting him my property not yours mine stop leaning so close his lips so perfect are not yours to kiss NO

***

"Draco," came the breathy whisper.

Draco looked up from his rose as Pansy moved closer. "There's still some ink on your face. It's been there since Transfiguration."

"So? I don't care," Pansy said, going all the nearer to his lips.

Completely ignoring her advances, Draco lifted his hand. "It's alright, here, let me get that for you." He rubbed his thumb over the ink, leaning in to see better in the dim moonlight. "There," he said. "All better."

"Draco!" exclaimed Pansy, indignant.

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

Furious, Pansy glared at Draco's indifferent expression. When he stared back, eyes cold, she spun on her heel and lifted her head. "I'm leaving."

Draco shrugged, and looked at the pink rose he still held in his hands.

"Malfoy." Potter. It was Potter. Potter was speaking to him. Potter was there, standing right in front of him, speaking to him. Of his own will. Did the boy always have to place himself in front of light so that glowing rays of sun or moon shone out from behind him, as if it was he that was giving out the ethereal glow?

"Potter." Indifferent. He had to remain indifferent, calm, collected, aloof. Had to. Even though his heart was beating at a hundred miles per hour and he could feel his hands begin to sweat nervously. God forbid Malfoys sweat when they get nervous.

"What're you doing here?"

"It's none of your business. Where's your Muggle-loving girlfriend?"

"It's none of your business."

"Go away, Potter, I'm not in the mood for you right now."

"Why? Because Pansy left you here all alone?"

"I couldn't care less where she left me, as long as she left." What was he doing? He didn't have to explain himself to Potter. He didn't have to explain himself to anyone.

"Oh."

Draco just stared at him, eyebrow raised slightly. "Tell me, Potter, what brings you to this corner of such a vast garden?"

Potter shrugged. "Dunno. Just wanted to see what you were up to."

"What, have your friends have all abandoned you so there's no one better to be with than me?"

"No." Potter glared at him briefly. "Just wanted some quiet time. And, I don't know, just to see what you were up to, like I said. I haven't seen you around much this year, and it's our last, so - "

"So you thought that you would play nice and make up with your worst enemy before you left?"

Potter actually had the audacity to laugh. "No, Malfoy. You're not my worst enemy. Not by far."

Draco just about had a heart attack.

***

What was he doing? Coming up to Malfoy, here in such a secluded place. If Malfoy Avada Kedavra-ed him right now, he could lay there, dead for hours, perhaps days, before he was found. It was official. He was insane. But he just had to know, just had to know if Malfoy and Pansy were...and then he was laughing, and Malfoy had a strange look on his face, and he reached up and touched the rose that Malfoy was holding up and twirling with long, slim fingers.

The rose stopped twirling immediately, and Malfoy gave a small cry as he dropped the flower. "Ouch!"

Harry hastily withdrew his hand. "Are you OK?"

"Fine. Just got pricked by a thorn." They both watched as a drop of crimson blood appeared on porcelain skin.

so beautiful

"It's bleeding."

"I know."

"Do you want a Band-Aid?"

"A what?" Malfoy stuck his finger into his mouth.

"Nevermind." Harry thought he was going to faint when it suddenly struck him.

Malfoy was sucking on his finger.

Malfoy was sucking on his finger.

Malfoy was SUCKING on his FINGER.

Wary grey eyes looked at him suspiciously. "Potter, are you feeling alright?"

"Why do you ask that?" he replied, somewhat faintly.

"You just look rather pale. Splotchy." That would be him being horrified and embarrassed at the same time.

"I'm...fine. Just dandy. I'll see you in class, Malfoy." And with that, Harry practically ran off, feeling dirty and completely and utterly traumatized by the whole ordeal.