A/N: I'm not sure what inspired this but here it is. This is not humor... at least, it's not supposed to be... I hope it isn't... so... no laughing. And I know 'Chasing the Dragon' is seriously delayed... I apologize profusely. I've sent it to the beta and am waiting anxiously for its return so I can post it. Oh and this is slash... you have been warned.

Disclaimer: Not Mine... Please Don't Sue Me.

Thanks to Lucy for taking the time to read this... and being my heterosexual life-mate.

On With The Show

I am not in love with Draco Malfoy.

He is not the first thing I think of when I wake, nor is he the last thing I think of before falling asleep. I do not lay awake at night thinking of what could be… what should be… what will never be. I do not lose sleep over him. He is not the first person I look for when entering a room. I do not spend most of my time thinking of him. My breath does not hitch when I catch his eye across the Great Hall… or in potions… or anywhere else for that matter. I do not sneak into the Slytherin Dorms under my invisibility cloak at night. I do not watch him sleep. I do not lie to my friends about where I've been. I do not get lightheaded when he brushes against me in the halls. I don't.

I am not in love with Draco Malfoy.

I do not get jealous when I see him kissing Pansy Parkinson… or when he has Blaise Zabini pushed against a wall. I do not snog Parkinson in an abandoned classroom, hoping she might still smell… taste, like Draco. I do not fuck Zabini a week later for the same reason. I do not let a random blond wizard go down on me in the alley behind The Three Broomsticks because he reminds me of Draco. I do not forget to breathe when he looks at me with half hooded eyes… or when he smiles… or at all. I do not get distracted by his graceful flying during Quidditch or the way the sun shines off his hair. I do not yearn to know if it's as soft as it looks. I do not want to run my fingers through it.

I am not in love with Draco Malfoy.

I do not shiver when he whispers empty promises in my ear. I do not whimper when his hands find their way under my shirt. I do not groan when he bites my lip. My pulse does not quicken when I feel his breath on my skin. I do not shudder when he slips my trousers off. I do not moan when naked flesh meets naked flesh. I do not gasp as he braces himself above me. I do not arch my back as he slides into me. I do not writhe and beg and plead. I do not rake my nails down his back. I do not spout an endless drivel of filth and love and adoration. I do not cry out his name.

I am not in love with Draco Malfoy.

I am consumed by him.