Nico di angelo at Hogwarts

Drarry (Love?) - Bonus Insert

"Malfoy. Malfoy! Wait up!"

Harry pushed his way through the crowd of students heading to their classes, yelling Malfoy's name at the top of his voice. And that bloody git didn't even slow down! All around him, people were coming to a halt, staring at the two of them, ready for a morning fight.

Harry grit his teeth, ignoring the eager stares as he made his way towards Malfoy, the crowd thinning out before him and closing in behind him again.

"Malfoy!"

He put a hand on the boy's shoulder and spun him around - a bit too roughly perhaps, but still better than slapping that irritatingly beautiful face. Malfoy nearly stumbled as he was whirled around and met Harry's furious glare with a mocking sneer of his own.

"What is it, Potter? Afraid you'll get lost without me holding your hand?"

Anger flamed inside Harry, momentarily blanking out his mind. What did that bastard take him for?! He was perfectly polite to everyone - he even apologized to Hermione the other day! - except Harry and seemed to take a weird delight in taunting him at every single opportunity. Merlin, he could just wrap his hands around that boy's neck and-

Harry shook it off. He didn't need any drama, not here, not now. He would be in control of himself. He worried what he might do if he lost control.

What would he do? Hmm...slap the git probably. Punch him in the face? No...that didn't feel right...

Kiss him?...

~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the same time I wanna hug you, I wanna wrap my hands around your neck. You're an asshole, but I love you.
~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry came to a sudden stop, mid-step as he was advancing on Malfoy. His eyes lost focus and his mind went blank.

What was that just now? Did he seriously just think...that?

Harry's mind presented him with a memory...of Malfoy's lips. They were soft and pink, glistening slightly...did Malfoy use makeup?

The picture suddenly changed. The lips were still there, but they were different now. Thin and pale, they were chapped with constant biting.

The picture changed again... Now he could see Draco's face...his eyes were wide open, the pupils dilating fiercely, tears running down his cheeks. His lips were no longer drawn in a sneer or pressed tightly in fear. They were open, wide open, and he was screaming and crying and sobbing, but he wasn't looking at Harry, he was looking at flames, the deadly flames of Fiendfyre engulfing the Room of Requirement, the orange-red flashes reflected in his grey eyes, and he was screaming a name, but it wasn't Harry's name, he was screaming for Crabbe and Harry was tired, he didn't want to be the saviour, he didn't want to be looked to for help, but Draco needs help and when he asks for it, with just a look, Harry won't be able to refuse. He was staring at Draco, waiting for something without knowing what he was waiting for.

But now he knew. Now he understood. He was waiting to be asked for help, he was waiting to be looked at as if he were a hero, as if only he could do something, anything now. But the plea didn't come. It never came. Not from Draco.

It came from everyone, everyone who knew him. No one asked for his help in words, but their eyes begged him. And he couldn't refuse. He couldn't...how could he?! But he was tired....so tired....tired of it all! He didn't want to be the hero! He didn't want to be the Chosen One, the Saviour of the Wizarding World! Even after the war, they asked, they begged for his help, even though his job was done, Voldemort was gone, but his legacy remained, the Boy-Who-Lived remained, and he was expected to do everything.