I Think
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Disclaimer: So not my characters.
Note: Harry POV. Oneshot. Um, the beginning popped into my head and the rest followed. I'm not sure about this. Sorry…but reviews are welcomed any way.
I think.
I'm just not sure what I think.
I mean, I think all the time, obviously, but I'm undecided as to what I'm deciding when I think.
Sometimes I think that to think I must know what I'm supposed to be thinking about.
Other times I think it doesn't matter, and when I decide what I'm thinking about it will all make sense.
I think I don't make any sense.
I think I'm confusing myself.
I think it's all Draco Malfoy's fault.
I think I'm not sure.
I think I'm in love.
I think I'm in love with Draco Malfoy.
I think I'm delirious.
I think I'm not sure what I think.
I think everything would be better if I understood what I think.
Then I think I like not knowing what I'm thinking about.
I think not knowing makes it not matter and makes me not have to think about it.
I still think it's all Draco Malfoy's fault.
I think I might be right on that last one.
It was the end of December, and the wind was biting harshly at my exposed skin. I would have cast a spell to eliminate the bitter wind that hit me, but I didn't feel like it. The cold felt good. I felt like I deserved it. I felt bad. I was brooding like I do a lot. I realize I brood a lot, but I don't change the amount of brooding I do anyways. I like brooding. I don't feel like changing. Maybe I'm just lazy.
It was Christmas break. I was the only Gryffindor left at the school. Ron had invited me to his house, but I was brooding then and declined his offer. When I'm not brooding, which is kind of not that often over the break, I wish I'd accepted the invitation. I was the only student who stayed after school besides Malfoy, who I expect only stayed because his parents were doing some evil death eater thing and he wasn't allowed to go, even though he wanted too. I didn't care either way. I also lie. I did care because when there is only one other person to talk to, you end up caring about them. I'm sure that if the only other person around was Voldemort, I would care. Maybe we would care about each other together.
I just realized how that sounded. I don't think I would care. Either way you took that.
The point I'm trying to make is that I was starting to care about what Malfoy thought and said and did because he was the only other person around, except for the teachers and I was brooding so I didn't want a thing to do with them. In other words, I'm making up an excuse that sounds half good as to why I care. About Malfoy. Because I shouldn't. The only thing I care about him is if he's going to try and kill me or not. Or at least, that's all I should care about. But I care about more and it's infuriating.
It's his entire fault.
It's his fault I'm brooding in the freezing cold snow.
It's his fault I'm making snow angels, getting bitten by the snow, then rolling over them till they are disfigured.
It's not his fault that he looks edible but I'm still going to blame it on him because there is no one else to blame it on. Well, I could blame it on McGonagall, but I'd be hard pressed to think of a reason why it's all her fault.
I might like blaming people when I'm brooding. I'm not sure because when I'm in a blaming mood, I'm not in a lets-see-why-I-blame-people-mood.
I laid in the snow for Merlin only knows how long but it was long enough for my arse to numb so much that my warming spell had no effect on it. I should have taken Hermione's offer on her tutoring me. I probably wouldn't have a numb arse right now. There could be a bomb placed in my arse and I wouldn't feel the difference. Well, I'm sure if it was a really large bomb I would feel the difference. Or maybe not. There's only one way to find out and I'm not going to try it. Someone else can and tell me the results.
Malfoy's hair is hard to tell from the snow. It blends it. That's a really unfair advantage. He was able to walk really close before I realized the moving drift of snow was a person. It didn't help that his clothes were white. I think he likes sneaking up on people.
I think Malfoy looks like an angel of sorts when he's wearing white. Maybe not an angel, angel but more like my disfigured snow angel I was making.
I think that suits him too.
He has very soft lips and a sharp tongue. That definitely classifies as a disfigured angel. Then again, who am I to decide what a disfigured angel is classified as.
I don't know about his soft lips and sharp tongue from any personal experience. I know because people just don't know when a conversation should be held in hushed tones and when one should be held in loud tones. Beside, I could care less what his lips and tongue feel like. Or if I did care, which I do, I could find out for myself. If I find out for myself I would probably find out that he has sharp teeth, though, instead of a tongue. He'd probably bite me for shoving my tongue in his mouth. I've often wondered about his reaction if I did that.
That didn't mean I wanted to do that.
I mean, I've wondered what Voldemort and Dumbledore would do if I did that too, but that doesn't mean I want to do that to them because I don't. I just wonder what they would do. I also wonder what would happen if all the drinking beverages were released from their confines. Would they flood the world? Is there enough of them to do that? I wonder what would happen if Dobby stole everyone's socks. I wonder what Hermione would do if I ate all her books. I wonder what Malfoy would do if I touched his nose.
I decided to find the last one out.
He was saying something, no doubt scathing, when I reached my hand out the short distance between us and touched his nose. We were really close now that I think about it. I think that he was mad about my lack of response and decided to get all up in my face about it. I think he looks shaggable when he's mad.
I think he was shocked, if his lack of response and confused expression gave anything away.
He is a barmy bastard. He swats my hand away and says something else, but I am beyond listening to him and his useless chatter. I decided, right then and there, that I was going to take some of my wonders and find out what would happen. Not the beverages released from their confines one because I didn't feel like drowning at the moment. I wasn't brooding that much.
I fell on the snow. It didn't hurt my arse but if it wasn't so numb it probably would have. Instead it hurt my head. Malfoy looked at me like I was an idiot. I smiled. His face was priceless. His forehead furred and the left side of his lips curled up in confusing incredulous.
I kicked his legs out from under him. He landed on top of me. His cheeks color red. I think I like this game.
Malfoy pressed his lips to mine in a burst of something that I deemed unreadable from his face. Then again it was very hard to read his face when he was that close and my glasses were knocked off my face on my fall down.
I'm not sure if this is a game.
The loud conversationers were right. His lips are so soft they feel like a lovers caress but I know better. Or at least I hope I know better than to think they are.
His lips cuts between my brushed lips without permission and slipped deliciously in my mouth. It sharply cut into the sides of my cheeks and that felt good. I think I might have moaned or the wind might have moaned. I'm sure we looked really arousing in our humongous coats, lips crushed together, and hands clawing at each other. The one drawback was that I was numbing and couldn't feel all the touches I knew I should have.
His mouth was cold and I liked that.
I think I like cold bitterness.
I think I became confused when Malfoy quickly got up and left after I moaned out his name.
I think I shouldn't have moaned out his name.
I think it made it too realistic for him.
I think I want to know what's going on.
I think I also don't want to know what's going on.
I know it's all Draco Malfoy's fault.
I think I'm going to run after him and stop my thinking even though I don't know what will come from it.
I think I should stop thinking and do.