Just One Look is All it Takes by Janiem.

Summary: Harry sees Draco watching him one day, and from that day forward… everything changes.

Pairing: Harry/Draco, duh.

Rating: M, mostly for guy on guy action (minor stuff only though, sadly), and swearing, lots of it.

Timing: October of seventh year. Disregards HBP.

A/N: Okay, yes, I know I should be writing the next chapter of "Auld Lang Syne," and I am, trust me, I just really wanted to get this one out here. It's pretty important to me, a different style of writing for me, too, and I just wanted to post this up. So let me know what you think, and review:D

DISCLAIMER: I successfully stole the rights to Harry Potter but then Jo came at me with an ax and threatened to chop of my hand if I didn't give them back. Sorry Jo. -grumbles-

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You see him watching you one day. It comes out of the blue. And he isn't just watching, but he isn't doing the usual sneering thing that whole family of his does.

You turn your head to look at him, and see him still staring at you, not paying attention to Professor McGonagall in the least. Amazing, really, since all he ever does is boast about how smart and perfect and utterly wonderful he is, and now it seems like McGonagall is going to give him a detention for not paying attention to her class.

You catch him watching you, but he doesn't turn his head around. You can feel his gaze boring into you, but you just can't find the strength to turn your head. His gaze is intense, like he's concentrating on something too hard. It amazes and scares you all at the same time.

But you just can't look away.

And as it seems, neither can he.

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You start noticing the little things about him.

Ever since that day, five weeks ago, you can't keep your eyes off him. Hell, an entire month has passed, but you still find yourself infatuated with him.

Maybe it's the fact that he gets you all riled up and just makes you want to either kick the living daylights out of him or snog him senseless. It doesn't make any sense to you whatsoever, but in the same way, it just does.

Your fights go on with him for days and weeks and months, even, and you punch and hex and infuriate each other, but you still find yourself unable to look the other way when you see him staring at you at breakfast, or classes, or - hell - just… anywhere.

You're thinking that maybe you're just going mad, that you should be taken away in a straightjacket and sent straight away to St. Mungo's because that's clearly where you belong now that you're starting to find yourself infatuated with your arch enemy of seven years.

But yet, you start noticing the little things about him.

You realize how he has these little tendencies to do things. Like how he bites his lip when he's really nervous about something (although it only happens when he thinks no one else is looking; he of course wouldn't want anyone else to see him let down his guard), or how he blushes and ducks his head when you catch him watching you, or how he is just all together different when alone and away from everyone else.

You start to wonder how you could ever have rejected him that day on the train when he asked you to be his friend. But then you remember that it was all because he was being such a god damn prat about the whole thing.

But then you wonder if maybe you really should have become friends with him and then think about how much your life would turn out different, how you'd be confiding to each other, staying up late talking in the dorms before sleep, and then go on adventures with him instead of with Ron and Hermione.

You think how you most likely would have been sorted into Slytherin House instead, and can just imagine yourself in their colors, how the green accentuates your own eyes, how different you'd look, and if people would think you were a Dark wizard, all because of what House you were placed in.

Did it really matter what House you were in?

You see Draco Malfoy walking around the school by himself late at night sometimes while you hide under your Invisibility Cloak you acquired from your dad in first year, and notice just how scared and completely and utterly lost he looks.

And one night you act on it.

You walk up to him, coming out of nowhere, and take off your Cloak, scaring the living daylights out of him. It's quite amusing really, but you resist the urge to laugh at his reaction.

"Merlin, Potter! What'd ya go and do that for?!" he yells in a hoarse whisper.

"Hello, Malfoy," you greet him and smile. "Out for a late night walk again?"

He blushes slightly and mumbles, grumbling. "Couldn't sleep. What's it to you?" he snarls, in a voice that's supposed to make you tremble at his feet but just amuses you instead. "What are you doing out at this late of night?"

You shrug and smile wryly. "Couldn't sleep," you say simply. "Care to join me, Malfoy?"

He looks wary, confused almost. "Where?" he asks after a moment or two and you just beckon him to follow you.

You walk for a few minutes, going up a flight of staircases on the way, and end up at the Room of Requirement.

"Potter?" He cocks his head to the side, wondering what you're doing as you walk back and forth in front of the blank wall.

The door to the room opens, and with a grin, you take his wrist in your hand and pull him through.

He looks around and notices the dark red couch that looks just oh-so comfortable, the multicolored plush pillows all around, and then turns to look at you.

"This is the place you always were during fifth year, right?" he asks, and you nod your head but don't say anything.

"Whatever happened in the Ministry that year anyway?" he asks, and you stiffen slightly, frozen on the spot where you're standing, with your gaze flicking all over the place.

"You… you probably don't really want to know," you say softly, your eyes finally resting on his.

"Try me," he says.

"Worst year of my life," you grumble and take a deep breath. "S-Sirius died that year," you choke out. "Bellatrix LeStrange killed him. He was the only family that I had left and that bitch of an aunt of your's killed him, Malfoy," you seethe, and then wish you could somehow take back your words. You're shaking with anger though, and you wonder if you really do want to take them back.

He doesn't say anything. Just stands there, frozen to the spot, staring at you. Not with hate or malice or any other kind of disdain, just… staring. After a moment he finally speaks. "Potter, I…"

You realize that there are tears streaming down your face now, coming without any warning, and you don't even wait for him to finish what he has to say. You just shove past him, not even caring what he was going to say. It wouldn't matter anyways.

Because nothing can bring back what you've lost.

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He watches you wherever you go now.

It seems a bit creepy, almost like he's stalking you or something, but then you wonder if it's just because of what you said to him, two days ago. But it's just that he stares at you…

And you like it…

You think it's just so strange, since you've basically been sworn enemies ever since you turned down his offer of friendship on the train that day, all the way back in first year. But you like him watching you, and you don't really know why.

It's a bit weird, these feelings that you're having, but you don't really know what they are.

Because you've never felt them before…

You feel confused. Yes, you have been confused before, but not like this. Oh no, never have you felt like this…

You're confused, wondering why he stares at you all the time, watching your every move, it seems. And his gaze just won't let go…

Why, oh why, did you just have to go and say no to his friendship all those years ago? You could've been friends with him the entire time…! You curse yourself inwardly, saying that you can't change the past, even though - in all actuality - you really can. But then you wouldn't be where you are right now though, would you?

No. You wouldn't.

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Hours later you're sitting alone in the dark corridors, after curfew when everyone else is all in bed. Where you should be.

But no. Oh, no, what you're doing? Yeah, that's right, you're bloody fucking crying your eyes out, thinking about fifth year and what you said to a certain blond-haired Slytherin only days ago.

Why did you have to say those things to him?!

Merlin, you've probably scared him off and things will be even worse between the two of you from now on…

But when you think about the past two days… they've been… weird. Kind of good, but… just weird…

Good for one, because he's not tormenting you and your friends anymore, and just plain weird because of all the looks he's sending your way.

What could they possibly mean? Or do they even mean anything?

You think about it.

Yes. Yes, definitely, the really do mean something. Because seriously, people don't send that kind of looks for no reason.

You're so confused, and nothing makes sense, not in the least, and not really knowing what's going on between the two of you is just infuriating you.

But even still, you can't help finding yourself attracted to him. After all, it's not up to you who you fall in love with; it's completely up to fate. But you want to hold him, kiss him, feel him… love him…

You wonder if that's such a crime, because it seems that no one will ever let you get a fucking break in this world. All you ever do is go around, battling psychopathic Dark Lords, and fighting creatures like dragons and three-headed dogs, and all you really want to do is be a fucking normal teenage wizard like every other bloke out there, and not have to worry about how you're probably going to be killed at any second.

There are footsteps coming toward you, you look up, and who else do you see but… Draco Malfoy, of course.

You mentally roll your eyes at your bad - but at the same time surprisingly good - luck.

Stupid fate…

Your eyes are still red and puffy, and there are tear tracks still running down your face, due to all your crying, and you can't help but think what bad timing you - and him as well, you figure - have.

Couldn't he just not see you when you're not in your best state?!

Honestly…

He scrunches up his eyebrows and gives you a strange look, one that's almost contemplative.

"Potter…" he says slowly, obviously confused, "What're you doing down in the middle of the night, sitting in the dungeons of Hogwarts??"

You start sulking. Last time you'd had an encounter with him, it definitely hadn't ended on the best of terms. In fact, if you can remember correctly, you ending up stalking out on him…

"Dunno," you mumble, staring at your hands in your lap. "Couldn't sleep."

"You couldn't sleep, so you decided to come down into the dungeons to sit and sulk?"

Damn, he caught you.

"Yes?" you reply dumbly, and look back up at him.

He nods a few times, then moves to sit down beside you, eyebrows still brought together.

You're… surprised, to say the least.

Draco bloody Malfoy is sitting down beside you… And he's not doing it in a less-than-civil manner, either…

Your eyes are wide, and all you can do is stare at him, while he turns his head to look at you, giving you a calculating gaze.

"Potter… have you been crying?" he asks, in a tone that can only scream sincerity. As if he actually wants to know, and not so that he can bug you about it later on.

You figure it best to just go ahead and admit it, since nothing can convince him otherwise. "Yes," you say, in a slightly ashamed voice, staring back down at your hands once again.

"Whatever for?" he asks, and you jerk your head up to look at him again.

"For what I said to you before, obviously," you breathe, slightly incredulous. "For blaming you for my godfather's death, when it wasn't even your fault in the least! It wasn't your fault, and it's unfair of me to even try to pass up the blame on you when it was mine in the first place…!"

He suddenly gets a very stern look on his face. "It was not your fault, Potter, and don't you ever think otherwise," he warns.

He says it in such a demanding voice that all you can do is nod numbly.

He just seems like he wants to get it through your head, so that you don't feel so guilty all the freaking time, and then you see the look he has in those stormy grey eyes of his. It's… caring. Like as in he actually cares. For you. He's concerned, for Merlin's sake…

A bit scary to actually see him show this kind of emotion, actually…

'His hair really is as soft as it looks…' is all you can think as you run your fingers through the silver-blond locks. You stare at it as you do so, and your eyes flicker to his, where they stay, in shock at what you'd just done.

You reluctantly retract your hand from his hair, lip quivering because you have no idea what the hell you're going to say - what you can say - and you stay stock still, frozen to the spot.

Oh hell…

He's staring back into your own eyes, his grey ones gazing at you intently.

"Potter…" he starts, but you cut him off.

He starts to say something, but you cut him off. By bloody kissing him. What the fucking hell is wrong with you?! Oh Merlin… you're screwed. You're SCREWED. You're kissing him - you're kissing him for all you're worth - and it's good, you know it is, but you can't help but think 'I'm SCREWED, he's going to fucking KILL me when we break, isn't he!'

Okay so you really didn't even mean to kiss him in the first place. All you meant to do was make him stop talking, and - well whaddya know?! - you bloody well gone and done it…!

And now he's going to kill you. You just know he is, because it's just so obvious that he's straight. I mean - HELLO! - the Slytherin Sex God rumors? They're true. You hear them all the fucking time.

Your eyes still closed, you break from the kiss, just before he has time to respond. (Hah. Not that he would anyway, you think.)

And then you wait for the blow.

But, surprisingly… it never comes.

Well, no, it never comes, not unless you'd rather think of 'the blow' as him bringing your face right back up his so that he can kiss you instead.

You're shocked at first, you really are, but then you melt. You just melt…

You lean into the kiss, and when you feel his arms entwine around your back, you lift yours to snake them around his neck. You think just how amazing it feels to be here, kissing him, when you feel his tongue come out and touch your lips, and - oh hell yes - you grant it, yes you do, and very greedily, I might add.

You wonder how you hadn't seen it before, the obvious attraction between the two of you, the sexual tension, the whole fucking works…! It was clear that you should have just snogged the life out of him a long time ago, but then realize that you can't exactly do that when you're as young as you were when the two of you met. After all, snogging usually doesn't come until years later anyways.

You'd definitely grown over the summer. After years of Hogwarts food and all that cooking Mrs. Weasley did for you, you for sure aren't the malnourished kid you once were. Oh no, you… you had shot up to a five-foot-eleven-inch figure.

You wonder… Are you actually taller than him now?

You step toward him to see if you actually are…

Damn.

He's still a few inches taller than you.

Well so much for that then…

Hmm… he actually beat you at something. You'll have to remember to tell him sometime…