How Hard-Harry/Draco-One Shot
Title: How Hard
Rating: PG-13
Type: One-Shot
Notes: One of my very first Harry Potter works, and my very first when it came to H/D. Hope you like it!
You don’t know how hard it is to watch your hatred for me grow by day. You don’t know how hard it is for me to sit back and watch as those bags under your eyes grow heavier and as your robes hang more and more limp off your slim shoulders. It’s so hard to watch out of the corner of my eyes how little you eat every day. But hardest of all is seeing the people you claim to be your friends completely ignore you. Either that or they’re too incompetent to notice.
You don’t know how hard it is to watch day by day as your health grows worse. Now, the winter months are arriving. It’s growing colder as you grow weaker. How is your body going to handle the weather? You don’t know how hard it is to sit back and let that fact that you are so weak eat away at my conscience. But what am I supposed to do? If I came up to you and tried to get you to go to the infirmary you’d hex me into oblivion. At least you’d try- I doubt you’d have the strength.
You don’t know how hard it is to know I’m not supposed to care. But is it my fault? No. I never wanted to have those dreams of you. No. I never wanted to see you do those erotic things to me. No. I never wanted to have the picture of your beautiful, delicate face in my head. No. It’s not my fault I’m slowly falling out of Lust and into Love. It’s not my fault that I’m so worried about you, it’s not my fault.
You don’t know how hard it is to see Parkinson hang all over you, Draco. To see her tell you how much she cares when she doesn’t even see how ill you are. She hasn’t even noticed how slow you are moving as of late. She snaps at you when you reject her, but then the next day I see her bothering you yet again. It isn’t fair. She doesn’t love you. She loves your money. She loves your heritage. She loves your place in the world. I love you.
I love your hair, the way it’s no longer slicked back and falls gently over your eyes. And I love your eyes. Ron once called you a grey eyed prat. But you’re not a prat and your eyes aren’t grey. They’re silver and gold, with blue mixed in. I once wondered how your eyes could be so beautiful, but now I know. Your body is the result of thousands of years of developing. The Malfoys have always been around and probably will still be for many, many years to come. I love your hands. They are so delicate and thin, pianist fingers. And I love your lips. I love how they are such a soft pink. You don’t know how long I’ve longed for those lips to smile. Smile at me.
I swear The-Boy-Who-Lived will die if I don’t see you smile at me soon, Draco. I think you’ll die too.