Love's fool

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, places, etc. they all belong to J.K. Rowling and her people and I am not making any kind of profit.

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(Harry's POV)

I wish I hated him. The way he walks about the school, mask glued to his face, as if he owns the place. It makes me sick to the bone and yet, I cannot bring myself to hate him. Everyone else I know hates him, so why can’t I? Because I have seen beneath the mask? Because I know him better than he knows himself?

I sit watching him taunt a student from a lower year, Crabbe and Goyle by his side. His aristocratic mouth is pulled into a smirk and to anyone else; Draco Malfoy would look like he was enjoying himself. But I can tell he isn’t. The way his eyes don’t give his victim their full attention, instead, they shoot glances at the wall behind the shaking fourth year Hufflepuff boy. The way his back is just not as straight as it could be, taking maybe a quarter of an inch off his full height. Its little things like that that let me know what he is feeling… which emotion he is hiding under the mask.

Today, it is disgust he is hiding. Not for the boy in front of him, but for himself. For the person, that everyone believes, he has become. He has been hiding this emotion a lot recently.

He catches me watching. His eyes meeting mine for an emotion filled second. In that fleeting moment his mask drops. Slips away and spills his secret emotions out into the world, for all to see. But nobody does. Nobody but me.

The mask returns quickly and it is as if it never left. As if, that moment between us never happened. And as sappy as it sounds, it makes me want to cry. Makes me want to march over there and yell at him. Tell him that he cannot keep sealing himself off from me. That I need to see what is under the mask, as much as he needs to show it.

Instead, I gather my things and storm past him. I know he is watching me; I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. I have no idea where I am going; I just need to be as far away from him as possible.

I give a small snort of laughter when I realise where my feet have taken me. It is a small clearing in the woods, by the lake. Nobody ever comes down here, though I don’t know why, because it is truly beautiful.

Draco and I spent one undisturbed Sunday here, a few months ago. That was before… before he decided he was not good enough for me.

I remember the day as if it was yesterday. We sat by one of the large oak trees, me wrapped in his arms, and stared out into the lake. It was scenic, watching how the golden reflection of the early spring sun, danced on the surface if the water. Enwrapped in a slow waltz that was lead by the gentle breeze.

We talked about everything and anything that day. From Quidditch, to our families and friends. He let down his mask and he was enchanting. There isn’t a word to describe how beautiful he was that day. I’m sure I saw right through his eyes and caught a glimpse of his soul.

After that day, he began to push me away. He eventually told me that we were over, that he was scared of corrupting me. That he was a bad person and that I deserved better.

We haven’t spoken since that day. We just share an occasional moment, as we have today. Where his mask slips and shows me he loves me and he wants me. Nevertheless, in the end, he always leaves me with an ache that only he could drive away. And that’s why I want to hate him, because he leaves me feeling like this. I can’t though; my love for him is too strong to be clouded by hate.

“Harry,” I hear my name, a whisper carried on the wind and at first, I think I’m imagining it.

“Harry,” this time it is louder, more forceful. I turn to look at him and immediately wish I hadn’t. His mask isn’t there and I see the pain and hurt that he is feeling.

I know I have unshed tears in my eyes and I’m to scared to blink, in case I send them flowing down my cheeks. I do not want him to see me cry. It has been almost two months since we broke up and yet, I still haven’t gotten over it… over him.

“What do you want, Draco? Come to rub salt in the wounds?” I know he hasn’t, but I also know he hates people thinking he is uncaring and I want him to hurt. I want him to feel what I feel.

His eyes drop to the floor, but instead of feeling happy at achieving my goal, I feel worse.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. It’s stupid really. Isn’t he the one who should be apologizing?

“Don’t be…” he replies, looking at me once again, “… you have every right to hate me…”

“I don’t,” I interrupt. He gives me a puzzled look, as if he can’t understand why.

“I don’t hate you, Draco. Marlin knows I’ve tried too. I’ve wished everyday for something to make me go back to hating you, but it never works…” the tears finally fall down my cheeks and I turn my back to him as I whisper, “…it never works.”

I feel him walk closer, until he’s close enough to touch me. He doesn’t though. He doesn’t do anything.

“Make me hate you, Draco. Please, make me hate you,” I beg, as I turn around to look at him. Tears are still appearing in my eyes and making their way down my face, but I don’t care. I just need to feel something other than this constant ache.

“I can’t, Harry. I wish I could help you, but I can’t,” he replies. His hands twitch as if he wants to reach out to me, but he clenches them in his robes.

“Then why are you here? Why did you follow me?” I snap.

“Because…I…I don’t know,” he stutters. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. A gesture he only does when he is at a loss about something.

“How did you do it, Harry? How did you make me fall so hard for you?” he asks. His voice is just above a whisper and I’m not sure if he wants me to actually answer that question.

“I could say the same thing to you,” I reply, not really knowing what else to say.

I told him once, that I loved him. We had just made love and the emotion was choking me. He had just drifted of to sleep, his arm placed haphazardly across my abdomen. He was lying on his front, the side of his face squashed into the pillow and his white blond hair was messily hanging over his eyes. Most people in that position would look awful, but not him. He was radiant. I stared at him for a couple of minutes, before gently moving his hair away from his face. That’s when I told him. I didn’t even mean to say it, it just kind of fell from my lips.

“Draco, why did you do it? Why did you break up with me?” I hear myself asking. I don’t know why I’m putting myself through this again, but I want to hear it.

“I told you. You deserve better than me,” he replies.

I shake my head at him, making my tears slide faster. “Who could be better for me than the person I love?”

“Don’t,” he utters, but I ignore him.

“I love you, Draco,” I say.

“I said don’t,” he snaps. Then I’m not the only one crying. Tears fall from his eyes, leaving silver tracks in their wake. “Please don’t,” he whispers, so quietly, I almost don’t catch it.

“I love you,” I whisper once more, completely ignoring his request.

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he just looks at the ground, defeated. He looks like I have broken down the last of his barriers, the last of his fake confidence.

“I can’t,” he murmurs and I know he means he can’t say it to me. He can’t tell me he loves me. “You deserve someone better than me,” he repeats. However, this time it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself, not me.

“Draco, there is no one better than you. Not in my eyes anyway,” I wish he would believe that.

“Then you’re foolish,” he replies.

“Maybe,” I say. “But isn‘t anyone who loves a fool?”

“That’s ridiculous. I, for one, am not a fool,” he lets a little bit of his arrogance slip into that saying. So I ask. I have to ask.

“But you are in love?” I say, though it sounds more I like a statement than a question. Plus, I do know the answer; I just wish he could say it.

His arrogance once again slips away and he just stares at me. I watch a pool of tears gather at the rims of his eyes. They shimmer in the afternoon sun and slowly begin to fall as he nods his head.

I lean forward and place my lips on his and it feels so good to taste him again. He’s still at first, but I almost feel his resolve seep out of him as he begins to kiss me back. I pull back and look at his face. His beautiful, unmasked face.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” I say forcefully, as I wrap myself in his arms.

“I won’t,” he whispers, his breath ghosting over my ear, sending shivers down my spine. Then I hear it. The little phrase I have longed to hear.

“I love you,” it almost echoes in my ear. I try to pull back to look at his face, but he holds me tighter, and that’s when I truly believe, he’s never going to let me go again.