Make You Feel Beautiful

Look for the girl with the broken smile,

Ask her if she wants to stay awhile,

And she will be loved.

She will be loved.

Tap on my window, knock on my door.

I want to make you feel beautiful.

Maroon 5, "She Will Be Loved"

Draco had been standing outside Harry's apartment for quite some time. He wasn't sure when it had started to rain, but he didn't mind much. He was going to stand there pounding on the door all night if he had to.

Hearing stories about Harry Potter and knowing him were two very different things. Everyone in the wizarding world knew and had talked about how little Harry had Lived. He was their Savior. His name was whispered in hushed, reverent tones, and shouted heatedly in defense of morals and beliefs all over the globe. Everyone had always simply loved him. He was, after all, Harry Potter.

No, thinking of Harry as a god on a mountain top was not the same as seeing him every day. When you looked at Harry, it was obvious that that miracle child, the natural-born leader of the wizarding world, couldn't be farther away from this scared, abused little boy. Draco had looked into Harry's eyes a million times. During their school days, their gazes met constantly, most often without either noticing. Each time Draco looked into those brilliant green eyes, he was saddened by what Harry had become.

Even when he and Harry's enmity was at its height, Draco was appalled at the way Harry had been raised. News traveled fast in Hogwarts, and it was common knowledge that Harry had grown up in a house full of Muggles who treated him like a parasite, being made to sleep under the Muggles' stairs and wear the over-large clothes of that fat Muggle cousin of his. What infuriated Draco most was that the reason he was treated like an animal was his gift. Those filthy Muggles knew who Harry was, what he could do, and treated him like trash, not in spite of it, but because of it.

Even though Harry had endured that treatment for ten years before he understood it, its effect was plainly visible in him. That was what made Draco flinch and look away from Harry's blazing glares. That was what made Draco's blood boil when Harry looked at him. The beaten aura that Harry wore didn't go away with time at Hogwarts, but got deeper and more pronounced. He went from being an insect to a faceless hero, whom everyone loved by name in the most distant way possible, and didn't want to get any closer to. Soon he moved on to being suspected as a murderer, then was suddenly a hero again.

Variations on this theme continued, even with Harry's supposed friends, until they graduated from Hogwarts, and Draco was no longer able to watch Harry grow more dejected and bitter as each cycle taught Harry that no one really saw him as any more than an object to be used. Harry's own personal hero, Dumbledore, whom Harry believed would somehow hold the key to everything he'd always been searching for, was just as bad, if not worse than the rest. He was the leader of the Order of the Phoenix and preached about working together to oppose the Dark Forces, but when time came for the final battle against Voldemort, he sat up in his tower miles away from the battle, not lifting a finger to help Harry. It was Harry's destiny, he'd said, as if Harry was born to defeat the Bad Guy and wasn't worth anything more.

Suddenly, the door Draco had been staring at in the darkness was opening. Squinting against the pain of the sudden light shining in his eyes, Draco looked at the man he'd always loved and saw it. It was firmly in place just where it had been every time Draco had looked at Harry since they were eleven. For the millionth time, Draco vowed that somehow, he would find a way to make that look in Harry's eyes go away.