Drarry Oneshots

My Father Won't Hear About This

Draco sat, concealed by the stone pillar, as two pairs of feet walked by.

Was it...?

No, it wasn't Potter.

He had been sitting in the corridor, wating for Harry Potter to walked past, but he wasn't quite sure why.

It's not as if he has a thing for Potter.

No, that's absurd. He was Draco Malfoy, straight as an arrow, pureblood, Slytherin, and there was no way he would ever even think of having a thing for that mudblood-loving Gryffindor.

But, his brain nagged him, then why are you sitting here, waiting to see that dark head bob past?

He didn't really have an answer to that question.

Just as Draco was about to think up some excuse to calm his churning thoughts, he saw what he'd been waiting for.

Harry walked past, arm-in-arm with Luna Lovegood.

Even from where he sat, Draco could see Harry's strong muscles go taught then relax under his dress robes, as he adjusted his grip on the strange, blonde girls arm.

Draco let a small sigh escape him, but immedately snapped his mouth shut. The last thing he needed was Potter to come and discover him sitting back here, fantasizing about him.

I. Am. Not. Fantasizing. He told himself.

Luckily, his small sound could not be heard over the growing noise of clinking glasses and silverware, as Slughorns party got into full swing.

The hem of Potter's robes disappeared around a corner as he joined the rest of the merry party goers.

Draco, reluctant to move from his hideaway, stood and swept off into the shadows of the castle. With long strides, he took the stairs two at a time.

Why would he take that freak, Looney Lovegood.

Well, even if he did find someone else, it wouldn't have been you.

Yeah, whatever.

Distant hoots could be heard from the faraway Owlry, but no other sound was made aside from the rustle of Draco's cloak against the dewey grass. He made his way slowly accross the damp grounds, savoring the crisp, December air against his pale, moonlit skin.

Slowing his pace further, Draco approached a shaded spot where he often enjoyed his time to himself; a small nook in a large willow tree's roots. Now, settled in his spot, he had a perfect view of the half-lit castle and the midnight-blue lake.

He sighed.

Of course Potter and I could never be together.

But it didn't dampen Draco's feelings for him one bit.

Wait, what were his feelings for Harry?

What if he really did have something for the raven-haired boy?

Draco turned this idea over in his mind a few times, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that, maybe he wasn't as straight as he thought.

Girls never really interested him, even with as much as he had been offered... One night, Pansy, drunk on smuggled firewhiskey, had nearly given herself up to him, be he refused, saying he didn't want to take something so special from her. Though, in his pensive state under his tree, he realized now that, even if he had done it, it wouldn't have meant anything to him... He wouldn't have enjoyed it at all.

My god... I'm bloody bent for Harry Potter.

Draco groaned and rested his head in his hands.