"Stay away from me!" Harry hissed.

"Like that's ever a problem, Potter," Draco spat. He spun around on his heel and stalked off down the otherwise empty corridor. They had met again for the third time that week, both of them out strolling the castle after hours alone.

Harry, fuming, starting muttering curses under his breath.

"What the hell? Third time in a fucking week? I swear, I'll hex him the next time he shows up. Prefect's duty, puh," Harry grumbled. He wasn't happy. Seeing Draco yet again during one of his thinking strolls was not helping his nightmares. In fact, they only made them worse.

Draco on the other hand, could not have been more contorted and pained inside. Happening upon Harry during his Prefect's rounds were coincidental. However, they still did not explain why Draco was so upset. It was love. Cheesy, yes, but it was the truth. Ever since he was young, he had always looked up to the boy who lived. Then, when he learned on his very first train ride to Hogwarts that Harry Potter himself was attending that year as well, Draco could not have been happier. He had everything planned out in his head, how he was going to approach him, introduce himself, even shake the other boy's hand. That whole plan had fallen apart the moment he spotted Harry standing next to none other than Ronald-the-blood-traitor-Weasley. His dreams of becoming Harry's best friends had been shattered on the spot, but Draco never lost hope. He immediately recoiled and tried a different, stronger approach. When he held his hand out to him, he was wishing and hoping and praying with all of his might that he would feel the warm, firm grasp of Harry Potter's hand in his own. The sensation never came. Only cold, cruel words that were influenced by Weasely filth: "I think I can figure out the wrong sort for myself, thanks." They cut into Draco like a knife.

Those words had ended up determining exactly how the two of them would end up treating each other for the next few years. Harry would hate Draco, and Draco would fall in love. It started out as deep admiration, but would eventually evolve into an all-consuming and at times, painful desire and emptiness because he was not able to properly express his true feelings. Harry could have cared less if Draco had died. He certainly wouldn't have celebrated about it, simply because he wasn't that kind of a person, but he would not have felt a single drop of remorse or grief for his peer, or enemy, rather. Completely opposite, but very deep, very real feelings. Hatred raging against passion, good against evil, truth against lies, would the circle never end?


A/N: Okay, I realize that this is very confusing, bad, and amateur-istic, but it's my first attempt at a Harry Potter fanfic.

Please, please please please please please please please please please please PLEASE! review! I need all of the feedback I can get for this one and I won't be able to update if I don't get enough feedback. I always appreciate it, so please review!