Disclaimer: Characters? Not mine.

The Cold, Hard Truth

Harry Potter fell to the silk sheets of the bed in a cold sweat, his arm draped over the pale stomach of his lover, Draco Malfoy. He grinned slightly in the dim light, burying his face against Draco's arm. In return, Draco pushed against Harry's body, pulling himself from the raven haired boy's embrace. Standing up, Draco looked down at Harry, smirking as his face fell.

He ignored the longing look Harry was giving him and padded across the room to the loo.

Harry sighed, watching Draco's pale body disappear into the blinding light radiating from the bathroom on the opposing wall. From the left, a cool breeze traveled across the room, playing with his hair. Outside, a cloud traveled across the moon, extinguishing the light of the stars. Draco closed the door behind himself, leaving Harry in total darkness. Rolling onto his back, Harry pulled the duvet over his naked body, closing his eyes to the night. His heart was still pounding in his chest, and his temples were throbbing lightly from the excitement and relief he had felt just moments before. His body ached for contact; Draco's body pressed against his own, tangled in the blankets.

But Harry couldn't have that.

Draco Lucius Malfoy only wanted sex.

Soon enough though, Harry was aware of the bathroom door opening and closing, and even more aware as a body climbed into the bed near his own, the mattress dipping slightly against the weight. He opened his eyes, glancing at Draco. Draco's blond hair was highlighted in the dim stream of light coming from the bathroom door, and his eyes glinted in the darkness as he stared at ebony canopy of the king sized bed.

After a moment, the Slytherin turned to Harry, staring at him with murky eyes. They were dangerously close; Draco's breath ghosted Harry's skin, causing him to shiver, and Harry imagined that he could almost hear his heart beating.

Harry rolled onto his side, pressing his lips against Draco's own in a soft, fleeting kiss. He tucked his body against Draco's, and after a moment, Draco wrapped his arms around him. He grinned into the contact, nuzzling Draco's neck. He sighed, laying a trail of soft, feathery kisses across the milky white collar bone.

Softly, he murmured, "I love you, Draco."

Draco let out a low groan, forcefully pulling away.

He scoffed, "Why'd you have to say that?"

Harry looked at Draco, confused and cold at the loss of contact.

"Because I love you."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"I don't believe in love, Potter. Love, is a load of shit, and is something two people say who lust over each other say they feel so they don't have to live with the fact that they're cold, heartless bastards."

Harry closed his eyes, turning away and looking as if he had been slapped.

Draco, in return said nothing, instead rolling over so that his back was facing Harry.

Harry laid there for a long while, ignoring the burning sensation near his heart, and the choking noise that wanted to erupt from his throat. He was painfully aware of Draco laying beside him, sliding beneath the duvet.

He forced himself to breath; to lift himself from the bed and to dress, sliding on a pair of boxers and jeans. His hands were shaking violently as he zipped up the black fabric, and it was taking every ounce of self control to not fall to the floor, bawling like a child. His jaw clenched, Harry snatched his shirt from beneath the pile of Draco's clothes at the foot of the bed, and stared at the sleeping man with dark eyes.

After a long minute of just standing there, staring, Harry begrudgingly climbed back into bed, tossing his shirt onto the floor in defeat.

He laid on his side, pressing his chest against Draco's bare back, and softly kissed his shoulder blade. Draco didn't move, and Harry settled with laying a arm across his side, burying his face in his lover's skin. Finally, he gave into the tears, his body trembling against Draco's.

The hard truth of the matter was that Harry had long ago fallen for Draco, against his better judgement, and that no matter how he wanted to, he couldn't leave. And the cold, hard truth of the matter was that Draco would never love Harry, and even worse; he knew it.