So Good in Love

Oh, how you sparkle

Oh, how you shine

The flush on your cheeks

Is more than the wine

You never failed to take my breath away. Even during the times I despised everything you were and all that you stood for, the sparkle in your eyes always made me pause.

Did you notice back then, the way I looked at you? I don't think you knew what I was feeling. Hell, I didn't know it myself.

But I know it now.

You knew it, eventually. When you found me that night in the Charms corridor, and you looked at me in that way that told me you had divined what I was thinking. Did you see it in my eyes? Did some small gesture give me away? I guess I'll never know.

I don't know how it happened, but suddenly you were in my arms. Suddenly, I didn't want you anywhere else. I didn't realize then, exactly what I was getting into. I just lost myself in the joy of kissing you, desperate to make the moment last as long as possible.

Much too soon, you left me to go back to your common room, afraid your friends would wonder where you were.

Maybe I should have seen it then. But I was oblivious.

You kept meeting me in secret. You didn't want to tell anyone about us. I agreed for my own reasons. My friends and family would accept you just about as well as yours would accept me.

We kept our love a secret, if you could call it love. I certainly was head over heels in love with you. Simply having your eyes on me could cause me to do all sorts of insane things. I think everyone was a bit confused by my actions.

I don't remember exactly when it was that I began to suspect the truth. I confronted you about him, and you denied it so vehemently that I had no choice but to believe you.

How blind I was then.

I saw the truth, you know. Don't think I was stupid. I knew that you were dealing with things you'd never tell me.

The war was on. It was good versus evil on a massive scale. Voldemort and his supporters were gaining power, while Dumbledore and the Ministry tried their best to contain the Dark Lord. I knew he could never be contained.

You and I were on opposite sides of the struggle. You were a muggle-born, and I was a pureblood. You were the third part of the Trio, and my father was a Death Eater.

Each night when I met you I held my breath, expecting you to say that we could no longer be together. Each night you walked into my arms I let out a sigh of relief, knowing that I at least had this one more time to be with you.

You're the one who convinced me, you know. You argued with me, cried over me, and refused to see me. The refusing never lasted very long, for you could do without me no better than I could breathe without you. I finally realized what I'd been denying my entire life.

My father was wrong.

I didn't want to admit it. I looked up to my father so much, and suddenly the shaky foundations of my life were crumbling down around me. You held me up. I was grateful to you then, for helping me to see the truth.

In my newfound zeal, I declared my intentions of joining your Order. You didn't want me to, and I couldn't understand why. You made me see that it was a bad idea, for the others would never accept me. They wouldn't know what to think.

Even after I came to the Light Side, you didn't want to tell anyone about us. Even though I was doing my best to help the cause, you insisted that your friends wouldn't understand.

I knew the truth then, in my heart. But I didn't want it to be true, so I pretended it wasn't. Why would you care what your friends thought, if you loved me?

It wasn't me you loved.

It galls me now, that it took me so long. Was I too weak to live without you? Apparently I wasn't, because I'm getting on now. Voldemort was defeated, the Boy Who Lived was a national hero, and his two best friends were nearly as exalted as he was.

You didn't know how to handle being the sidekick to a hero, and for that I teased you. You laughed then, and joked that I simply adored the spotlight. It was true, I admit. What I wouldn't give not to be recognized now. They all know about us.

I sit here at this table alone. It is the one year anniversary of Harry Potter's miraculous defeat of the Dark Lord, and the Ministry saw fit to host a grand gala honoring the war heroes.

You and I are marked among them.

And he must do something
That I didn't do
Whatever he's doing
It look's good on you

You're dancing with him. You look so happy. It strikes me abruptly that you never looked at me that way. You looked at me with heat, and desire, and sometimes pity. When I openly denounced my father, you looked at me with pride.

You never, not once, looked at me the way you are looking at him now.

He doesn't deserve you. You're smart, witty, and beautiful. He's a clumsy oaf. What did he do to entice you to love him? What did he have that I didn't?

As you spin across the floor the dance steps draw you near to me. I take the opportunity to study you. The contours of your smile, the highlights in your hair, the radiance of your skin; not one of these is lost on me.

Your eyes drift from him for the briefest of moments and find mine. Quite by accident, I'm sure. The smile fades slightly as you meet my gaze, and your eyes fill with an emotion too much like pity for my tastes.

Then it is gone, as you look back to him.

You look so good in love
You want him
That's easy to see
You look so good in love
I wish
You still wanted me

I cringe at the thought of you pitying me. Despite my high ideals, I still cannot stomach anyone thinking a Malfoy is human. I am untouchable. Nothing fazes me.

Pity, like honey, can be too sweet on the tongue.

I rise from my seat as the dance takes you across the room, as far from me as you've always been. You are the one who is untouchable.

I walk across the room to the refreshment table, where she is standing. It may be low and childish, but I know it will make him angry. So I ask her for a dance. She looks at me strangely, as if she knows what I'm thinking, but agrees.

We walk out onto the floor, and I know that we make a striking pair. Her red hair compliments my blonde, and she is just tall enough to rest her head on my chest. Not that she does so.

No, my attempt at normalcy is bittersweet. She too is untouchable. Why is everyone in love? Everything is so nicely squared away. Too nicely. I fight the urge to glower, knowing that the Boy Who Lived has stolen this revenge from me.

I cannot even make you jealous, because you know just as well as I that she doesn't belong to me.

The dance is one that requires expertise and a certain amount of concentration. To my surprise, she is an excellent dancer. We go through the steps like the tides, flowing and ebbing towards each other, and then away just as quickly.

I feel your eyes on me. You are looking at me with that pity I hate. Why do you pity me? I never needed you anyway. He is glaring at us, incensed that I dared to dance with his sister.

Every eye is on us, every mouth whispering about the strange pair on the dance floor. She gazes up at me, not with pity. With empathy. I sense that she has been where I am, but I don't know how I know this.

The music ends, and she thanks me for the dance and walks away without glancing back. It's a pity, too. It would have been fun to seduce her. You would find out, and you would think of me every time you looked at her.

I look towards you, hoping to see you looking my direction once more. You are staring into his eyes, with a smile so warm that threatens to melt the ice encasing my heart. I wonder if it will always be like this. Will I always sit in the background, trying to feel some of the warmth you send his direction?

He must have stolen
Some stars from the sky
And gave them to you
To wear in your eyes

I walk back to my lonely seat, stopping on the way to take a glass of wine from the refreshment table. I fervently wish it was something stronger.

As I sit down, I search the room for you. You're dancing again, this time with Harry Potter. I'm glad you are dancing with your other best friend, because I don't think I can endure the looks you keep sending him.

The thought takes me back to the night I was forced to accept the truth. The night I stopped fooling myself.

The night I found you with him.

Later, when we were alone at the park on my street, you tried to explain. You tried to make me understand. You even cried. You told me something I will never forget, something I hold to my heart even today. You told me that you tried, but that your heart was the only thing that wasn't in love with me.

I knew what I had to do. I knew that I had to let you go. You didn't love me, and I didn't want you going off feeling guilty. You deserved a fresh start. You deserved to be happy, even if it wasn't with me. Even if it's hard to breathe without you.

The logic of this eludes me now, as I down my fifth glass of wine.

So I told you that I understood. I told you that it was okay. And then I lied to you. I told you that I didn't care about you. That you had been a fling. That I had been seeing someone else behind your back. I said anything I could to give you an excuse to hate me.

You almost cried. I was so proud of you when you squared your shoulders, blinked back your tears, and said that you understood. Apparently my lessons on self control were not entirely wasted.

You walked away, your spine as straight as the mast on a ship. I almost broke down right there in the middle of the park, begging you to come back. But Malfoys never beg. They never break down.

What almost killed me, though, was the fact that as you were walking out of my life, you were walking into his arms.

What did he do to deserve you?

I had my chances
But I set you free
And now I wonder
Why I couldn't see

I'm drunk now. It's an odd feeling, not being in control of myself. I am so used to self control. To my delight, I'm not a crying drunk. I'm just a stupid one.

I weave across the crowded room towards you, the clean tile floor rolling nauseatingly under my feet. She sees me, apparently, because she interceps me before I reached you.

"Malfoy, you're about to make a mistake," she said, before proceeding to tell me that I was a complete idiot and I should leave before I made a complete spectacle of myself. Her words knock some sense into me, and I agree to leave.

As I head towards the doors, I turn back once more to look at you. But you are staring into his eyes once more. It makes me want to throw up.

Or maybe that's the nine glasses of wine.

So I turn around, silently wishing you a wonderful life, and walk out of the doors. Then I fall on my face.

She picks me up off the ground and pours me into a cab, giving the driver directions to my apartment. I thank her, and to my chagrin the words come out slurred.

She smiles at me and says I'm very welcome. Then she walks back inside, and rejoins her life. I find myself envying her. She has everything I want. Love, happiness, and a plan for her life. I don't know what I want.

I remember how you looked tonight, resplendent in dark green robes that contrasted your fair skin beautifully. I dwell on your smile, on your perfect teeth. I remember with some amusement that they are perfect because of me, at least indirectly.

I silently hope that you have what I can't seem to find.

You look so good in love
You want him
That's easy to see
You look so good in love
I wish
You still wanted me

Love.

What did he do to deserve you?