AN: I couldn't help it! The Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince movie forced me to do it!! I really, really liked it! It, it, it, bad sentence-structure, but what the heck 8D It was geeeeeewd, even though they changed stuff! Like that's never happened before! Oh my goodness, I was so impressed by the way Tom Felton managed to portray Draco in this movie! He finally got his well-deserved screen time! Wohooo!! Oh, how I love the character Draco (not just because of the actor, thank you very much~ x3)! He's wonderful!!! Okay, enough rambling!

Oh right. RP'ing steals my muse so much D: I have not forgotten my other stories, I really haven't! I will start writing them again the moment inspiration hits!!

Category: Angst/Romance
Pairing: Harry Potter x Draco Malfoy
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter! Nor Draco Malfoy! Or any other briefly mentioned characters! They all belong to J. K. Rowling, as we all know!

Oh, teh dramaaah! Enjoy!

Draco was lying in the utter silence of the dark hospital wing. All the other beds were unoccupied, the white sheets stretched flawlessly across them. Madam Pomfrey was probably fast asleep in her office at these late hours, and Draco could hear no sounds but his own heartbeats and ragged breaths. He had always found it a little scary, the silence Hogwarts sometimes mustered up at night. It was strange how a castle so big, with so many people, ghosts and other creatures inside of it ever managed to reach a point of no sounds at all. But at the moment, Draco was thankful for it. The silence reassured him that he was absolutely alone in the room, as he wouldn't want anyone to be around him now.

He was crying. Warm, salty tears ran down his pale face as he clutched the pillow of his bed with trembling hands. Desperation raged through his body, tearing him up slowly. Draco felt like a mess and a failure. He had never in his life felt more helpless than he did at that moment. How had he ever thought he would succeed in this mission that the Dark Lord had assigned him? It was so far beyond his abilities. He was sixteen, for heaven's sake. He already knew that in the end, he would fail, and he was scared. So afraid that him being unsuccessful would result in the death of his family, and let alone himself. He so dreaded the punishment that Voldemort would give him.

His left arm burned fiercely, as on cue with the thoughts that whirled around inside his head. Beneath the bandage he'd put on himself, the dark mark was burned into his skin as an eternal reminder that he was now a Death Eater. His father fancied it an honour, his son following in his footsteps. At first, Draco had thought so too. He felt it connected him to his father even if Lucius was locked up in Azkaban. But now it did nothing but terrify him. What fate had he gotten himself into? And Snape was constantly hanging over him, watching his ever step, offering his help, because he didn't think Draco could manage it on his own. Did that mean that he was expected to fail? Knowing that no one had faith in his success didn't exactly make him feel better.

And Potter... When Harry had walked in on him earlier that day, when he was in the sixth floor bathroom, Draco hadn't been able to stop himself from casting spells at him. He had acted so instinctively the moment he came to the realisation that Harry had seen him cry. He hated it, that Harry had come across him in a vulnerable state like that. Draco had worked so hard over the years to keep his cold and hard exterior around Harry, and now, in an instant, it had been destroyed.

Draco was horrified with himself for what he had been on the verge of doing when they had been sending curses at each other. He couldn't believe what he'd almost become, by being just an inch away from sending the Cruciatus curse at Harry. He most likely would have too, if not for the fact that Harry had been quicker to hit him with another curse. It was a spell that Draco had never even heard before, but the pain had been almost unbearable. It had felt as if someone had slashed his torso open with a heavy, medieval sword and sliced his face in two. There were no marks in his face from it, luckily. That was most likely thanks to Professor Snape healing that part of him first. Draco's chest, however, now had a long, thin scar that would never truly disappear, even with magic helping in. Madame Pomfrey had said he was lucky to be alive.

As a few more tears descended down Draco's face, the door to the Hospital Wing was opened and closed with an almost inaudible sound. Draco felt his whole body go rigid and his soft sobs stopped immediately, as he listened intensively to the footsteps that echoed in the large room.

"Muffliato,"

A deep, all too familiar voice spoke the charm. Draco hadn't heard the incantation before, and had no idea what the effect of the charm could be. For a second, he wondered if he should reach for his wand that was placed at the bedside table, but he decided against it. Whomever was in the room, although Draco had a creeping feeling of who that might just be, would be able to curse him before he would have been able to get to his wand at all. He wondered whether or not he should pretend to be asleep, but as he was the only person in the Hospital Wing at the moment, it would do little good. After quicly drying the tears off his face, Draco decided to sit up in his bed, looking at the person who was now standing a few metres away from him.

Draco had been right in his assumption of which young wizard that voice belonged to. Harry Potter. The moonlight shone through the large windows in the room, illuminating his skin in a strange silver glow. It made such a wonderful contrast to his messy, soft black hair.

Over the past six years, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had ended up in a strange, twisted relationship. Draco had wanted Harry's friendship from the first day they met. As Harry early had seemed to develop a kind of hatred towards him, Draco started seeking Harry's attention in ways that were just stupid when he looked back on it. Of course, this had led them down the path of becoming enemies in public, but it had never been Draco's intentions at all. He had never had to make friends with anyone. Crabbe and Goyle hung around with him because it made them look cool. Draco had never actually chosen any of his friends. That was why it was all the more difficult to get in contact with Harry, and Draco had learned from his father to come across as arrogant and cold.

When they were in their third year, Draco had lost his patience. He only seemed to light a bigger fire under Harry's dislike towards him every time they were near each other. It was never easy having to live up to the reputation he had as Harry's enemy. But one time when they had stumbled across each other in an empty classroom, Draco had pushed Harry against a wall and kissed him hard. Short after, he'd left a mildly confused Harry behind in the classroom and disappeared back to his common room.

The following couple of weeks had been silent, before suddenly one night Harry had found him walking about the hallways. It had ended them in a heavy make-out session inside the same vacant classroom as they had been in earlier. After that, there had been fooling around in closets, empty bathrooms, behind statues anywhere they could be alone and undiscovered. And Gods, the prefect bathroom that Harry had started using during their fourth year; it had served its purpose full and well many times. They had done things that would have gotten them expelled for doing at school grounds had they ever been caught. They had gone pretty far, but they'd never actually had sex. It irked Draco a lot, as it was obvious they both wanted it, but none ever took the final step to get them there.

The jealousy from Ronald Weasley had always been obvious, and yet Harry had constantly failed to see it. That had been up until their fifth year, though, and Weasley had now seemed to come to the realisation that his crush on Harry had been confused friendly feelings and overly active hormones. Draco had always envied Granger and Weasley for getting to be around Harry so much without problems or restrictions.

There had always been this heated tension between them. Always this sharp edge of hatred as they were pressed against walls, lips locked in the roughest of kisses. One of them always had a reason to be pissed at the other for comments they'd thrown earlier when their friends were around. But from Draco's side, this had slowly begun transforming into something else; a strange and warm feeling that spread through him every time his skin came in contact with Harry's. It was a feeling that made him light-headed every time he saw Harry, a feeling that made him wish there was more to their meetings than raging, horny teenage hormones, name-calling and rivalry. It was something that made him want to moan 'Harry', even though they'd never been on a first name basis. It made him want to stay with him throughout the night, holding him close. Draco wanted to be with him.

However, he was so uncertain of Harry's feelings. Lately, he had been hanging around that Weasley-girl far too much for Draco's liking. And how could he think Harry would want him when he practically sliced him open earlier? That one had really hurt him, not only physically. Fine, they had always been on a bickering stage, but Draco never expected Harry to almost kill him.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" he asked acrimoniously, his voice low in fear of Madam Pomfrey coming to check up on him. The expression on Harry's face was unreadable, and Draco's grey eyes narrowed a little as he stared at him.

"Don't worry, she can't hear us," Harry said, nodding his head towards the door to Madam Pomfrey's office. So that had been the purpose of the charm he'd casted when entering the room. There was something about Harry's voice that was off, but Draco couldn't really put his finger on it. Harry sighed and walked the last couple of feet that separated them, standing at Draco's bedside.

"What do you want?" Draco's expression was hard, his walls of protection rebuilt. He wouldn't want Harry to see him vulnerable once more. Harry looked away for a little while, as it seemed he was thinking about what to say. Draco waited in silence.

"I didn't know what that curse was when I used it on you," said Harry finally, his gaze returning to Draco's. Harry was plucking at the sleeve of his robes, a habit Draco hadn't really noticed before. Draco looked away, not wanting to look directly at Harry. His eyes tended to make him shiver in the most pleasant ways, and now was not the time for that. When Harry figured Draco wasn't going to answer him, he spoke again. "I wouldn't have cast it if I knew what would happen."

"If you came to apologise then, you haven't said you're sorry yet..." Draco muttered, still looking in another direction. What would Harry understand anyway? Draco highly doubted that Harry had found out all on his own that it wasn't the wounds that had harmed Draco the most. As his gaze returned to the general direction of Harry, Draco didn't have much time to react as Harry moved closer, locking their lips together. The touch of Harry's lips against his never failed to make Draco's mind spin. As his eyes slid shut, both his hands rose to wrap around Harry's neck. Draco could do nothing but helplessly succumb to the way Harry made warmth engulf him completely. His mind tried telling him that he was angry at Harry for what he'd done to him, but Draco couldn't fight the way his body responded as the other climbed on top of him in the bed.

Moaning softly as Harry's tongue accessed his mouth, Draco moved his trembling hands to slide Harry's heavy robes off him. It hit him then, as the Gryffindor robes hit the floor, that this was the first time the two of them had been on an actual bed together. Sure, they had used desks, walls, shelves and such before, but never a bed. Draco found this thought oddly thrilling and his breath shivered as Harry's warm hands roamed across his bare chest. Draco's hands kept fumbling to undress Harry as their lips kept dancing passionately. He wouldn't break the kiss if he could choose not to, but reluctantly had to in order to pull Harry's shirt off him. Draco fancied Harry's body a lot. He was skinny and lean, but yet his back was a little broader than Draco's own. He liked the feeling of running his hands across Harry's warm skin, feeling every inch of him so close. Draco was pretty sure they both knew what would happen now. They had waited longer for it than what would be normal for any teenage boys, and Draco was positive that he wouldn't agree on waiting anymore.

As their garments disappeared one by one, Draco's heartbeat sped up notably. It was first when Harry slipped a finger inside him that the first really lustful sound escaped his lips and a slight tint of red spread across Draco's cheeks. A part of Harry was actually inside him, and it felt far too good. Even as three fingers slid in and out of him in a rhythmic motion, his eyes on half-mast, Draco knew they wouldn't even be comparable to what was yet to come.

It was painful, having Harry pushing into him, but Draco had already endured quite a lot of physical pain that day, so surely he could take a little more. He groaned lowly and tipped his head back, biting his bottom lip as he did so. Draco's whole body was trembling uncontrollably as Harry sunk into him all the way, filling him up to the brim. It was a completely new sensation, such a different pleasure than what he'd experienced before. Draco's fingers dug deep into Harry's shoulders as he started moving, and his grey eyes screwed shut.

It was so wonderful, feeling so close to Harry for once. It was only the two of them, alone, completely stripped for all defences, if only just for a little while. In the long, heated minutes they were together like this, Draco could drop his worries, and only think about how good it felt to have Harry's body rocking against his, their movements synced, their hearts racing. Draco willingly accepted Harry's lips upon his own again.

It was like Draco had been waiting for this moment for six years, and the waiting really paid off. His breath becoming more ragged and uncontrolled with each movement Harry made against him, Draco soon let go of the restrictions he had on his sounds. Moaning against Harry's lips, Draco hoped sincerely that the spell Harry had cast earlier was still working, or else there was no way they wouldn't get caught. Draco moved his legs to wrap shamelessly around Harry's hips to press them closer together as he fought the knot that kept tightening inside him. With another loud moan, Draco had to let himself go. The sensation that rushed through him in pleasured waves beat any feeling Draco had ever had. Also, hearing the moan Harry released when he also came was more than he could have asked for.

Shaking slightly, Draco let his legs drop from around Harry. He let his arms fall as well, one of his hands moving to stroke a few sweaty, blonde bangs from his face. Draco hissed lowly as the cold, empty feeling that was left as Harry pulled himself out of him. Harry kissed Draco surprisingly softly, and got up to get his clothes back on. Draco watched in silence, pulling the covers of the bed over himself, trying to block out the cold that came from the loss of Harry's body. When Harry pulled his robes on, he moved back to the bed and sat down. He leaned in close to Draco's face, his expression once again very difficult to read.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you, Draco..." Harry whispered in his ear. Draco's breath hitched upon hearing Harry speaking his name. It sounded so serene; it sent his heart leaping. Draco knew Harry wasn't talking about the scar on his chest. That meant Harry knew what had bothered him, and it made Draco feel comforted in a way. But yet, he was sad. He wished he could talk to Harry, wished he could confide in him all his worries. His heart would feel so much lighter if Harry could know and understand. He wished that he could allow himself to cry in front of Harry, and have him hold around him. But that could never happen...

'Dammit! Tell him, Malfoy!' Draco thought desperately to himself as he watched Harry stand up and start walking away. If he didn't do it now, Harry would never know how he felt. If he waited now, it would be too late to ever tell him. Inhaling sharply, he spoke before he really managed to make up his mind.

"Potter!"

Harry stopped walking and turned around to face the voice that had spoken to him. Draco could feel the strange chill that shot down his back as he looked into Harry's eyes; he could lose himself in the deep colour of them. But there was a lingering question there, and Draco knew he had to answer it.

'I love you.'

Yeah, if only. He wanted to tell him, he wanted it so badly. But his pride wouldn't let him; the last ounce of pride he had that clung to him after all this wouldn't allow him to open his mouth and express the feelings his heart sang out louder than he thought possible. Draco loathed every fibre of his stubborn, prideful nature at that moment, as he spoke again.

"Don't think this will change anything," he muttered. His voice sounded strained, almost like it wasn't his own voice, but someone else talking. Draco averted his gaze as he no longer could stare into Harry's eyes without feeling the urge to cry again. In the corner of his eye, Draco could see Harry nod slowly, before turning to walk away again. Maybe he only imagined it, but Harry's steps seemed to be heavier now, reluctant to leave. But Draco knew it was only his imagination, his desperate imagination that wanted for Harry to stay with him for a while.

'I love you, Harry.'

As he could see the back of Harry's black robes disappear out of the big, wooden doors, Draco swallowed thickly, doing his best to ignore the lump that was again building in his throat, threatening to burst any second. Only when he was sure that he no longer could hear the faint sound of Harry's footsteps against the stone floor outside, Draco allowed a sob to leave him and new tears to build in his eyes.

Harry would never know…

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