Notice: This isn't a Drarry fanfiction unless you want it to be. (You know who I'm talking to.) ;)

Disclaimer: Apparently, there are people dumb enough to think that I am J. K. Rowling. Well, answer me this people: If I were the author of Harry Potter, why the heck would I be writing a fanfiction about my own story? Although I may not (sadly) own Draco and Harry, this poem is purely my own work, and I would like to keep it that way, thanks.

Harry's POV

The night well aged, I lay upon my bed,

The mind busy, and heart light as lead.

But lo, a disturbance shatters the silence sweet-

Now this wretched creature I intend to roughly greet.

It wasn't my neighbor, who soundly slept,

Nor the haunts of the halls, for to themselves they kept,

Rather a phantom whisper creeping through the air,

A siren's song that raises the hair.

Ire forgotten and interest piqued,

To the source I silently sneaked.

Rounding the corner, heard I keys being played,

Mourning exquisite loss, of happiness dashed and slayed.

Such beauty, such melancholy untame!

At last I cried, "Sir, I must have your name!"

But his fingers continued their solemn dance,

Of his face he granted me not a glance.

Perhaps he didn't hear me-I couldn't tell,

How afraid was I, to break this spell.

My soul ached to know the thief of my heart,

So when the sun rose, prepared was I for the start.

T'was my loathsome classmate, haughty and proud,

Yet before me now sat he meek and bowed.

Beside myself with such guile shorn,

I placed my hand upon his shoulder, a new perspective born.

Tell me what you think. Should I write a sister poem in Draco's POV, or should I write a story about it? Maybe I should leave it alone? Send me reviews, and I will love you for eternity, since I was apparently born without a self-esteem.