Summary: Harry can't sleep at night because of a certain blonde that he's starting to notice. Draco keeps staring at Harry at inopportune moments and he can't figure out why. Both of them cross paths, and what happened is something that we could only guess. Two shot. Based on the song by Jordin Sparks.
A/N: hehe…due to reader's demand, I have decided to make this a three shot…Ü Enjoy!!
Next To You
By Unpredictable Sweetums
Asked around and I heard that you were talkin
Told my girl that you thought that I was outta your league
What a fool, I gotta get next to you
"Aarrgggh," Harry groaned and started hitting his head on the Gryffindor walls. "Damn it…damn it…damn it…damn it…"
"Mate, that's like the millionth damn it I heard you say in the last few hours. And didn't Hermione tell you to stop hitting your head on random objects an hour ago?" Ron pulled him away from the wall and sat him down on one of the plush couches in the Gryffindor dorms.
It was a Saturday, and most of Gryffindor was outside in the sun. You could hear drifts of laughter floating up to the tower from a few of the many students that took the opportunity to enjoy the bright sunlight. You would expect the Golden Trio to be outside too, being the outdoorsy, lively Gryffindors they were.
But they were in the common room. Well, two-thirds of them were at least. Harry had just told them the results of sending Draco a letter and the blonde's reply.
Obviously, it didn't go well - if the teen's actions were something to go by.
"Why is everyone so freaking happy when I'm feeling so damn miserable??" Harry muttered and continued to hit his head, now on the arm rest of the couch he was sitting on. He winced a bit – it seemed that the wall hitting gave him a bit of a bruise.
"Hmm…if it was Malfoy that answered that question, he'd probably say something along the lines of, 'The world doesn't revolve around you, Potter'. Don't you think, Harry?"
"Don't say his name," Ron could hear the groan that came from the partly buried face of his bestfriend, and patted him comfortingly on the back. Well, as comforting as a guy could do without being thought as gay.
"You'll get over Malfoy, mate. I'll find you a decent girl with blonde hair and grey eyes and you'll get over him and marry her and have a dozen children, and –"
"You're not helping!" Harry groaned again and buried his head completely under the soft gold pillows of the Gryffindor dorms.
"I'm sorry, Harry," the redhead apologized tritely.
To Godric and beyond, where the bloody hell was Hermione when you needed her?
"Malfoy!" an angry female voice stopped him in his trek towards the Great Hall. Said boy turned around gracefully, mask composed and was surprised to meet a very irate, bushy haired, glaring something.
So this is how Granger looks like when she gets really mad, Draco barely held back the small amount of fear he had of the girl that probably mastered every hex and curse that was published in the library. The girl that was currently fuming and looking very, very pissed off at him.
"WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO SAY TO YOURSELF?!?!" said girl started screaming and pointed her wand at his chest, poking him with it incessantly as she emphasized every syllable.
He quickly composed his sneer and looked at her coldly in the eye, "About what?"
Granger didn't even seem to get daunted. On the other hand, it was like her rage multiplied a few more times.
"About WHAT?! What do you mean ABOUT WHAT?!?! What do you think we're talking about, FERRET!?!" Draco didn't know voices could be as loud as hers. "This is about HARRY, my bestfriend, you stupid DOLT!"
Instantly, Draco became just a tad bit concerned, and asked something that he really shouldn't have asked.
"What happened to Potter?"
There, that simple question would be okay. No trace of longing, concern or care in that question. No sir, none at all.
At his question, Hermione seemed to deflate a bit and lowered her voice, wand still pointing towards the Slytherin's chest,
"Concerned, aren't you, Malfoy?"
He made to answer a no, but Granger's sharp glare told him to tell the truth or else. Draco gulped inaudibly; after all, the witch's wand was still at his chest.
"Perhaps just a tad bit slightly, Granger."
Her wand poked him harder, and he gasped a bit at the pain.
"Bloody hell! That hurts, Granger! You're not supposed to be doing that; you're Head Girl!"
"What? This hurts Malfoy?" He was poked harder. "Did you know that Harry's heart hurts a hundred times more than that because you, being the poncy git that you are, made him hope and then denied him?
Did you know how hard it was for Harry to write you that damned bloody letter?? Did you know how many nights he spent just wondering what you were thinking – what you were feeling because of the bloody stares that you keep throwing his way?"
What the hell?
"Did you know that Harry, the Gryffindor Golden Boy as you like to call him, cried over you last night? You made him a bloody wreck with just a few stares and a few words, Malfoy! And I demand you to apologize and explain to him the reason why you made him think that there was a chance of something going on between you when you obviously had no plans of following through!"
With that, Hermione stopped her tirade and breathed heavily.
Draco closed his eyes, hiding the unease he felt because of the pain that he unknowingly caused Harry. It both surprised him and pleased him that he seemed to have the very same effect that Harry gave him. He never knew his words, hell, even himself, meant that much to the other teen.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, and Hermione had to strain her ears to hear it. "I didn't know I mattered that much to him too."
Too. Hermione's mind clicked. It meant that Malfoy felt the same deep emotion that Harry seemed to be feeling too. Then there must be a chance! But why didn't Draco take it?
"You do, Malfoy," Hermione said softly, "Go and talk to Harry and see if this thing that's going between you means something at least."
"But this could actually make both of you happy!"
"No, it wouldn't."
Hermione gasped incredulously, "Why not??"
"Can't your half blood brain formulate the answer, Granger? Hah! And I thought you were smart. It's pretty obvious, I'm sure you already know," Draco said a bit meanly, yet Hermione wasn't fazed.
"What's your reason, Malfoy?" she continued to press on.
He sighed, it seemed that there was no escaping this confrontation. He would simply have to tell her the obviously painful truth.
"Look at Potter, Granger. And then look at me. We are complete opposites of each other, like the sun and the moon that could never go together. He is the savior of the light, and I'm the son of a Death Eater. We just-" Damn it, his voice was starting to break, "We just wouldn't work out." His voice sounded a bit strangled, a bit forced, even to his ears.
He met her eyes, and was surprised to see her forlorn smile, "Even the sun and moon can meet, Malfoy. It may be once in a few lifetimes, but they do. Haven't you heard about solar eclipses?"
"I have," he shook his head and continued, "Too bad Harry and I aren't solar eclipses."
He pushed away the wand that was pointed at his chest and started walking back to the Great Hall. His gait balanced, and his stance as perfectly snobbish as ever.
"Why is it so bloody impossible for you to be together?" Hermione called out softly, her voice pleading – for the happiness of her friend.
Draco's step faltered a bit and he answered a bit roughly, masking the emotion of complete hopelessness that crept up his chest.
"He's way out of my league."
And Draco Malfoy continued on his way, leaving a stunned Hermione behind.
Yeah its five in the morning and I can't go to sleep
Cause I wish, yeah, I wish you knew what you mean to me
Let's get together and end this misery
Harry stared up at the dark canopy of his four poster bed, his mind wandering back to Draco, just as it had these past few hours. The snores of his housemates did little to distract him from the questions that had plagued his mind ever since Hermione told him about her little encounter with the object of his affection.
How could Draco ever think that they couldn't be together??
Well, technically, it really was hard - given the fact that he considered both him and Draco straight just a few weeks ago, and that they were enemies for a good part of their stay at Hogwarts.
But something had changed these past months. Draco no longer was the git that he once was, and the emotion that masked itself with hatred slowly made itself known.
Bloody Merlin, he was in love with Draco Malfoy.
And the idiot seemed to feel the same too, if what Hermione told him was true.
So why couldn't they simply be together??
Oh yes, because of Draco's perception that he, Harry, was way out of his league.
Harry snorted, if anything, it was him that was out of Draco's league. Draco was handsome, he had to admit, smart, cultured, rich, and most of all, he was a Malfoy. He was Harry Potter, and even though his name brought him the unwanted popularity, he could never be as cultured or as refined as Draco.
Yet, for him, none of it mattered. Status, popularity, wealth, Houses, bloody hell, all of those things can shoot themselves to the other side of hell for all he cared. He simply wanted Draco by his side.
He thought of kissing those perfect lips, and wondered how Draco would taste like. Apples? Cherries? Or perhaps fine red wine? He wondered how Draco's skin would feel against his rough hands. Soft as silk maybe?
He wanted to hear his name uttered from those lips in pleasure, but also whispered with love. He needed to see Draco's smile directed towards him, see every emotion that would pass behind those stormy grey eyes, feel the love that he so wanted to have.
Damn it, he needed to be with Draco.
Harry rose from his bed and looked at the window – the skies were slowly lightening.
It was the start of a new day.
A movement from the grounds caught his eye, and he blinked, making sure that he was seeing right. He squinted, and recognized the trademark Malfoy hair that was starting to glint with the sunlight from above.
This was his chance. He needed to tell Draco what he felt, RIGHT NOW.
And he needed to know what Draco really felt.
If only for his peace of mind.
Decision made, he hastily put on some clothes, got his Firebolt, and flied as fast as he could out the window and towards the one person that he couldn't seem to get out of his mind.
This time, I'm not letting you get away from me.
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