Hello! I am back for a new oneshot. Sorry to disappoint the readers of The Missing Link. As of the moment I am oiling my gears and rousing my inner writer from a year's slumber. I've been away for a while so I can focus on my college thesis and I am now the proud holder of a degree!

This was inspired by a serendipitous post on Facebook. Reviews welcome.

The Downfall of an Expecting Romantic

by misspolapotter

This story is based upon the basic tenets of classic romance: love, resilience, and stupidity. To say that this is only a story would be swell, but a story of this magnitude has to come from one thing only: my rather unusual love life (or lack thereof; or uncanny search for one).

The story took place a year and a half since the war and many things have changed. I was about to graduate from Hogwarts, along with a handful of others who were mental enough to return. I was without my usual group of friends. Ginny had been whisked off in the middle of the year to be trained as a Holyhead Harpie. Ron and Harry decided to go all out and enrolled at Auror Academy, and still had a few years ahead of them. The handful of graduating students have become my unusual usuals: Neville, Luna, Ernie, and oddly, Draco Malfoy. More unnerving still, Draco has become my sort of better friend.

Now, one might be wondering, how is the chap not in prison? Well, he was acquitted. Not without consequence of course. He had promised to finish his schooling and to serve a position at the Ministry of Magic for a minimum of five years. At the slightest hint of Dark Magic, he will be carted off.

Our (dare I say it?) friendship developed quite dramatically. It started off with awkward partnerships in classes (the professors liked to pair up those with the highest grades so the others don't slack off), progressed into partner study sessions (during lunch or free periods), and ended up with both of us living in the same room (as the class prefects, which was decided late in the year). Mondays are spent creating schedules, Tuesdays are spent making rounds in the castle, Wednesdays are spent doing homework, Thursdays are spent planning weekend activities, and Fridays are spent talking. Draco had sort of hired me as his personal therapist, and oddly I think I'd been doing a pretty good job.

The school year was coming to a close and, after months of resistance, I finally gave in to his request of a small get together with their classmates at their common room. He was erratic with excitement and had taken it upon himself to disturb me as little as possible since it was his idea after all.

Our fridge was stocked with various kinds of alcohol, from elf wine to Muggle beer. He had also prepared games intended to render everyone drunk by the crack of dawn. There were bags of crisps and nuts, and I was sure he'd already sweet-talked the elves in the kitchen into making extra food for the night.

He scheduled the party on our final Friday night, which gave anyone who was going to get hammered time to become sober before marching on Tuesday.

Oh but we're getting ahead of the story.

Lately, our friendship seemed to have developed into er, something more. Our talks lasted longer, and became more frequent than just Friday. We stayed up later at night, playing Muggle board games (I enjoyed kicking his arse at Monopoly). We'd fallen into a seemingly domestic pattern. He did dishes while I cooked (on nights we decided to stay in for dinner). I didn't want to believe that it meant nothing, but being a romantic is a cross I have to bear.

He likes reading together on the couch. He knows how to cook mac and cheese. He takes care of me when I feel ill. I didn't want to assume, but actions speak louder than words.

I tried being normal around him so that he doesn't stop, because if I was being honest with myself, I liked it. But the feeling was unsettling. I hoped either of two things: he not speak a word about it, or he say his true feelings. After all I have seen his true self, and I know that he is not evil.

And he's not a hard man to love.

So. Back to the party.

It wasn't that much of a party, just a get together of friends, talking, eating, drinking, and playing around. No one was hammered yet, even when the beer and wine ran out, so Draco pulled out the big guns: scotch, brandy, vodka, and tequila. I taught them a Muggle drinking game-shot or dare. But they decided to combine it with another Muggle game, Never Have I Ever.

At this point I knew that it wasn't going to end well.

"Never have I ever snogged anyone," Luna asked, taking everyone, including me by surprise. The rule was, of you are the only one to take a shot, you either do a body shot or a dare. "Everyone ready? One, two, three."

I took a shot. No one else did.

"Dare," I said in a raspy voice. The scotch burned my mouth and I wasn't keen on taking another shot.

"Alright, since you're the only one in this room who hasn't done it, snog the person you find most attractive."

A chill ran through my spine. I regarded everyone, thinking who would be the most bearable to snog, but of course I knew who I wanted to snog. His face was slightly red from all the alcohol, his blonde hair was messed up just right, and his eyes- oh his eyes- they were looking at me intently.

Get it over with. He wants this too. Make the first move or else you might be wasting your chance at a good relationship.

For once I didn't argue. I turned to my left and snogged Draco Malfoy.

I could hear the gasp and then the cheer as I kissed him. He seemed shock however, and after a while, I stopped. He was not responding at all.

I didn't meet his gaze for the rest of the night. I decided to just do the things I missed out on. And got myself drunk that night.

I woke up the next morning in laying on my stomach in bed. The room seemed to be spinning but I had to stand up, otherwise I would mess my sheets. I made a mad dash for the bathroom and felt my stomach churn.

By the time I was finished, my throat felt dry and the room was still spinning a little.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked. There was something different about his voice. It was a little more stern than usual. He was acting formal and civil. Like I had done something bad.

Like snogging him was bad. I sort of did him a favor, hadn't I?

"Listen, about last night-"

"I hope you're going to say that it was a mistake."

What.

"What?"

"It's flattering that you find me attractive, it's just that I'd hoped to stay friends."

"We are friends, aren't we?" I replied. "Haven't we been, for a while now? And then, somehow, we changed. We're always together. You've been taking care of me more than usual. I thought you wanted something more."

"I never meant to start anything," he said. "I was only being nice to you, trying to repay you for all that you've done for me."

I scoffed. Wow so this is what rejection feels like.

"If you're going to think every guy who's nice to you wants to be in a relationship with you, you're going to have a hard time."

I stared at him long and hard, trying my best not to cry.

"Look," he sighed. "You deserve more than this, okay?"

"Please don't patronize me," I whispered.

"Now's just not the time," he said. "It's too soon. I still don't know if I like myself. How am I going to know if I like you?"

I nodded. And for the rest of the weekend, I shut myself inside my room.

There was no avoiding him, however. Come Tuesday morning, we still marched side by side. He was class salutatorian, and I, valedictorian. We both had no parents. Though the silence was uncomfortable, we knew we only had each other.

It would be such a great story to tell my children that within those last moments, he mustered up the courage to tell me how he really felt. Alas, that was not to be. Even on the train ride away from Hogwarts, we stayed in separate cars, careful not to accidentally bump into each other.

At King's Cross we didn't say anything, just headed separate ways. He was going to start work at the Ministry immediately. I was going to Law school for a couple of years, grateful for the distraction.

It's been a couple years since that moment. I have turned down my Law school friends inviting me out for a round at the local pub multiple times, in fear of the event happening again with a different person. I haven't had that same amount of alcohol again. I have never snogged anyone. Needless to say, that night satisfied my curiosities and more.

We've had no contact whatsoever. No accidental run-ins while I process my papers to begin work at the Ministry.

I remember the fateful night only in flashes of emotions and sensations. I still remember the feel of his lips. The smell of his hair. Most importantly, I remember his words from our conversation the morning after.

At the very least, I hope that he likes himself now.