Disclaimer: These are not my characters, cuz believe you me, if J.K. had written this (though she does allow that Harry is obsessed with Draco), she would have more love mail than fan mail.

Summary: Prompt from my sister… "I hate you." "Why?" "Because it's easier this way." Drarry, fight, angst, sad. Set Seventh Year.

Beta: nope.

Title: The Reason Why

It must have been nearly midnight when Harry ran into Malfoy. Literally. He had been walking along, lost in his thoughts, and had turned a corner only to slam into a hard chest and rebound off, thudding onto the cold stone floor.

Harry stood easily, rubbing his sore bottom as he did so, and turned on the offender to give him a piece of his mind. For really, with a chest that hard it could only have been a male. But as soon as Harry saw the white-blonde hair and the silver eyes, his words died in his throat.

Malfoy was looking at him oddly, apparently not having been affected in the slightest by the way Harry had slammed into his chest, and his mercury eyes were disturbingly clear and candid. Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably, at war with himself. Half of him- the half that was perfectly okay with this ludicrous and stupid crush he had- was perfectly content to be subjected to the Malfoy Heir's scrutiny, but the other part of him wanted nothing more than to create a diversion so that he could get away.

Malfoy continued to stare at the smaller, slighter boy, wondering- not for the first time- why he had allowed himself to be such a jerk seven years ago. He never realized that his emotionless mask had deserted him- or that Harry could read his emotions clearly through his eyes and was hesitantly thinking that maybe his idiotic crush really wasn't that bad- and as he contemplated the brunette he wondered what it would have been like to be this boy's friend. To be there with him through all he had to go through, to be the one to bear him up when the pressure grew too strong for the Gryffindor to handle.

To be the one this beautiful boy came to for help.

Harry shifted again, and Malfoy refocused his gaze on emerald eyes. What he saw there startled him, and he glanced away, cursing himself for a fool even as he raised his mask. He should never go out in the middle of the night, he knew that, for he always ran into Harry. Always. Without fail. As if the gods were conspiring against him to get him to give in to the horrible temptation that was Harry Potter.

Looking back into the confused green eyes Malfoy came to a decision. With the clouds of confusion and hesitant hope in Harry's eyes he knew he could get anything from the boy right now. Anything. But something stopped him, some faint shred of decency that had no right to be in his life, no right to interfere with his choices… no right… to...

--

Harry stared into molten eyes as Malfoy gazed at him. He had no idea what was happening right now, and he had no idea what was about to happen, but he was ready. For anything. Or so he told himself.

Oh, he knew if it came to a fight he would be able to kick Malfoy's ass clear across the Castle- Malfoy was so much better at Potions than DADA- but he had a feeling that that wasn't going to happen. Or at least… Not quite yet. Something else had to be resolved first. The emotions running through the tension surrounding them blanketed the two boys in an unnatural silence that the Castle seemed to be echoing.

The hallway was silent as though waiting for the two teens to move. It was as though the Castle itself was holding it's breath, waiting for the outcome of this meeting. But they did nothing, just simply stared at one another.

Harry shifted yet again, and Malfoy cocked his head and allowed a small smirk to cross his lips.

Very slowly, with careful enunciation, he said, "I… hate… you." He tilted his head, and watched the emotions passing over the brunette's face. Irritation and confusion- expected. But despair? And so fleetingly that he was sure the smaller boy didn't even realize he had let it slip?

No, Malfoy thought slowly, impossibly, no- they cannot be returned, my feelings cannot be returned.

No.

He took a breath as he started to walk away from the still boy. He was ten feet down the corridor when he heard the question.

"Why?"

The low, broken tone hurt him some place deep inside that he never thought about, and as he paused he closed his eyes, hiding his agony at causing the small brunette such pain, and thought.

A tear traced it's way down his cheek, and he never noticed.

Harry froze as the blonde's words washed over him. 'I hate you.' What had he done? Had he assumed too much from the aristocrat's eyes? Had he somehow alienated the youngest Malfoy?

'I hate you.' It rang through him, striking the corners of his soul like the death knell of a church bell's. 'I hate you.'

His voice was broken and filled with the tears his eyes could not shed as he spoke. "Why?"

He turned to look at the blonde, wondering what the other would do. The question froze the Slytherin, and for a few moments there was again no sound in the hallway. Then a thin whisper reached his ears, and to Harry's mind it was as painful as his had been.

"Because it's easier this way."

The blonde disappeared, and Harry leaned against the wall for support suddenly, now that Malfoy was no longer there.

And he wept.

-sniffle-

I'm tired of happy endings. No one writes anything with a sad ending anymore, and I felt the need to make this into a sad one-off. Hopefully it's a good sadness, and you all like it, but I'll leave that to you guys to decide.

Probably no sequel, but maybe much later on when I'm suitably depressed and angsty I'll write it.

Netrixie