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Chapter Two

Taking risks, grasping chances

Harry lay in his bed, unable to fall asleep again. After having woken up from the dream, he'd sat for a moment, and then dozed a bit. But he'd just woken up a few minutes ago, and was now wide-awake.

He couldn't stop thinking about his encounter with Draco at the Shrieking Shack. What had the Slytherin been talking about? What was the whole deal about Harry being in his dreams? For a fleeting moment upon waking up at the Shrieking Shack and finding Malfoy gone, Harry had thought maybe his crush shared the same dream as him every night. But then he'd quickly shoved the fantasy away, thinking how ludicrous it would be that his enemy would dream that of him. If Draco ever did dream of him, Harry was sure it was fantasizing his death.

He slid his glasses on, and glanced around for something to occupy his time for two hours, after which everyone had to get up. He saw, on the table beside Ron's bed, a newspaper. Shrugging, and deciding it was better than nothing, he stepped out of bed for a moment to snatch it, before retreating back into his warm blankets. Flipping through it, the word Durmstrang caught his eye.

There was an article on Durmstrang gaining of students. Harry skimmed through it, and was about to read something else, when he saw a list of "people most likely to join or transfer to Durmstrang within the next few months." Harry's eyes flew down the list, not seeing anybody he--wait a second! Was that? No. NO. No, it couldn't be, no no no!

His mind screaming in panic, his eyes fluttered back up, and lit upon one name, which had been emblazoned in his mind for years, and was now staring out at him guiltily.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco, the Draco he'd had a colossal crush on for years, the one he'd taken for granted would always be nearby, might be transferred to Durmstrang? Harry squeezed his eyes shut in horror, willing the name to disappear off the list. But upon checking, he saw it was still there.

Immediately, thoughts of why he loved Draco rushed to Harry's mind. Harry was loathe to admit it, but just the thought of not being able to see Draco around Hogwarts made him tremble. Regardless of his less than pleasant demeanor, Draco was gorgeous. Those wondrous blue-grey eyes Harry could sink into; and that fine, surely silk-to-touch silver hair. So many hidden secrets compelled him.

Draco was talented on a broom, and even though he never won against Harry at Quidditch, had a strong will that Harry admired. Harry had always liked people who were vivacious in life, people who were different than most, unique people; intriguing people like Draco. The way Draco walked was always very graceful, feline like a cat. Surely he and Draco could rub some of their good qualities off on each other, too.

Harry just felt a need to better Draco's life. The boy seemed to have much pain around him; an evil father, an evil destiny, no good advice to follow. Of course; how else could Draco have become the arrogant, swashbuckling boy he was today?

Some of Harry's reasons for loving Draco were in envy. Draco had parents. Sure, they weren't the best or kindest of parents, but they were always there for him, there to be proud of his achievements, reprimand and advise him against his mistakes; Draco had someone to hold his hand throughout the process of growing. Harry had never had anyone like that; no one had ever cared. Even the Weasleys, who treated him like family, weren't the same as real parents could be. And although Draco was definitely not normal, and, indeed, in Harry's opinion, was actually quite special, he wasn't constantly plagued by a powerful wizard desiring to kill him, mysterious dreams, and a torturous scar.

Draco was rich; house elves would follow his every whim. Harry desperately wanted to save Draco from becoming a Death Eater, and from his father's horrible influence. Of course, Harry did have Lucius to thank for Draco's good looks, not to mention his sauntering grace. Nothing else, though. Just the thought of one day maybe having to face Draco the Death Eater, a gorgeous adult, mortified Harry. With Draco on the dark side, Harry would never be able to stand up against Voldemort ever again. If the Slytherin could be convinced that going against Voldemort and people like his father was the right way to go, he could be of great help.

Also, Harry thought of Draco as an equal. He desired peace between them, and wished that Gryffindor and Slytherin could have a less enemy relationship. Surely Snape would be more fair to Harry and co. that way, too. One quality Harry admired and was impressed by that only Draco could posses and use so perfectly - his ability to hide his feelings; to view everything around him neutrally, without an ounce of feeling. Harry desperately wanted to be able to know, without forcing it from the boy, what thoughts Draco hid behind that cunning mind. He wanted Draco to appreciate Dumbledore for the wise man he was, and he wanted Draco to have someone smart to have talks with; a real friend, instead of dumb Crabbe, Goyle, and the nasty Slytherins. There were many things Harry could never speak to Hermione and Ron about that he knew he would feel comfortable telling Draco about.

Harry couldn't stop the impulse of love towards Draco. He had been obsessed for years; everything about the silver-haired boy captivated him. How he would love to tame the serpent (or was it panther?); to emerge victorious from the challenge that was Draco Malfoy. He would do anything to end the frustration and torture and find out once and for all if anything, hopefully something more than friendship, could work out between them both. Harry knew his desire could never be quenched by more waiting.

And so, after returning the newspaper to its proper spot, Harry began to form in his head a plan of confessing his love to Draco.

-----*-----

Harry's brain had been spinning wildly ever since he'd woken up the night before. He, although having done a ton of thinking, had not alighted upon any genius plan of telling Draco he loved him. So, he was now sitting at the breakfast table, food untouched, tapping his food, staring longingly towards the Slytherin table and waiting for an opportunity to appear miraculously on its own.

He shook his head vigorously as Hermione prodded him to eat again. He was glad Ron was busy talking to Seamus about Quidditch, or else he'd be badgered by the redhead, also. Hermione sniffed, and went back to reading Hogwarts, a History for the quadrillionth time in her life.

Harry almost whimpered in frustration. He imagined running up to Draco and embracing him then and there. His thoughts were becoming desperate; wild ideas of how to keep Draco away from Durmstrang and how to confess his love popped into his head, along with the hormonal urges to make the experience in his dream a reality. He gave a particularly hard stomp to the floor; he didn't even wince at the stubbing of his toe. He was staring, entranced, as Draco spooned pudding into his mouth. Oh, how the fire inside him burned, as he watched the sweet concoction touch those luscious, smooth lips...

Shaking away his wooziness, Harry, for the thousandth time in this Sixth year at Hogwarts, wondered what he was doing loving Draco Malfoy of all people. The other boy didn't know what torture it was to look at Draco, with no response, or a glare. It gave Harry such pain to love the Slytherin so fiercely yet deep inside doubt anything would ever come of it. Since his third year he'd begun to sincerely like Draco, but not until this summer had he pondered the total preposterousness of infatuation of the Slytherin. Sighing and wiping away the thought, he rested his chin in his hand, and tried to distract his mind from the sight of that seductive tongue licking at the pudding-smothered spoon. He wondered absentmindedly if, when truly happy, Draco ever purred...His breathing caught and body became alert just at the thought of it.

Groaning in anger at himself, Harry buried his head in his arms upon the table, wondering if takings risks and grasping chances to get Draco were worth it. Of course, only he was to blame for loving Draco. But sometimes he really wished he didn't.