Obsession

Harry Potter does not like Draco Malfoy. He knows this for certain because each time he catches a glimpse of the other boy, his hands clench into fists, and he feels the glowing burn of twin spots on his cheeks. His heart beats faster, and he has the unshakeable desire to do something physical like punching Malfoy's thin-lipped mouth.

He doesn't tell Ron the last part, about Malfoy's mouth, because Ron would want to know why Harry notices anything about Malfoy's mouth. And Harry doesn't have a suitable answer.

Harry remembers the feeling of his knuckles connecting with Malfoy's flesh the year before on the quidditch pitch, the rush he felt when Malfoy's head snapped back and those eyes stared at him, before they were shuttered, unbelieving and glaring pure hatred. The contrast of blood so dark it was almost black against the skin so pale it was almost transparent. The sight of Malfoy brushing his hand across his face, and that hand coming back sticky and wet

Now Malfoy's gaze is always locked onto the floor, and he doesn't speak up in class. He stays silent and keeps his head down, his face hidden by his hair. Harry knows that this kills Malfoy, having to stay hidden, having to keep his mouth shut. An impetuous fire burns behind his masked eyes, and when Pansy and the rest of his court look, like so many lost puppies, to him for guidance, his chest heaves with the effort of keeping his face carefully neutral.

Harry watches Malfoy during Potions, while a gaunt and drawn Snape glides around the room, staring down his hooked nose at the contents of the scattered cauldrons. Snape is too worn to make his comments as biting as usual, and Malfoy no longer looks to the wracked man for assurance on anything. Malfoy, in fact, does not do much looking at all anymore.

When Hermione mentions that Malfoy is looking infirm, and even slighter than usual, Ron snorts in derision and asks her why she wastes any of her time thinking about Malfoy and his health. Harry pauses to look across the stands, past the flying Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. He catches sight of Malfoy, and only then, when his hackles are raised and his thoughts turn to blackening Malfoy's blank eyes so the horrible parody of Draco's once brilliant eyes won't distract him anymore, does he agree with Ron and scoff at Hermione's misplaced concerns. Malfoy is fine. There is nothing wrong with him. Except that blue veins show through the taut skin of his face, and his hands shake as he eats, as he stirs his potions, as he moves deliberately and silently down the hallways.

Harry isn't worried about Malfoy, because that would be ridiculous. What does he care what happens to him? In fact, Harry wouldn't care if he dropped dead. Harry has to control his breathing and press an unsteady hand to his racing heart after he thinks this. But that's because everyone needs an enemy. Without Malfoy, what would Harry be? It's not as if he cares about him. Not at all.