A/N: This was written for The Diversity Competition – ROUND TWO created by ToxicRainfall, TayaCurragh, and Shadowed93. The challenge was to write a romance fic between any two people that were at Hogwarts while Harry was. I hope you all enjoy!

Thank you to my wonderful beta, KrossatGlas, who greatly improved this story and always came up with the title :)

Disclaimer: I'm pro at doing unnecessary things, so... I have not, nor I have I ever claimed to, own Harry Potter. I make no profit from writing this. (Except for reviews, of course *hint hint*)

Draco was used to seeing hatred. Ever since he was a young boy he'd have people glare at him and his family from across the street. Parents would drag their children away from him when he offered to share his book with them or play with his newest toy. Back then, he didn't understand why that would happen – he couldn't understand. All he knew was that he didn't very much like hate, and he especially didn't like it when it was directed towards him or someone he loved.

In the many years to come he would continue to see that ugly emotion – hate – fill the eyes of various people he encountered. He wasn't quite sure when it had happened, but he had eventually grown cold to the vicious emotion. Suddenly he could handle the sneers and dirty stares; he could withstand the nasty remarks that were always purposely said within his hearing range; and the way some would shuffle quickly away from him, barely concealed fear – or disgust – in their eyes.

When he finally reached the glorious age of eleven and received his Hogwarts letter, he vowed to himself that he wouldn't let anyone hurt him in the way those mixed scowls used to.

He remembered this self-made promise now as he slumped against the bathroom floor, desperately trying to hold back tears, wishing that he could return to that innocent state of boyhood. At the age of sixteen he had, of course, figured out that those hateful looks he often saw when he was younger weren't for him, but for his father. He knew now what the full power of hate felt like when aimed at a single person…he experienced it every day.

Students all over Hogwarts would either try to burn a hole in his head, or cower away from him as he walked by. No matter the House, everyone despised him in one way or another. Even his own Housemates, the Slytherins, were cruel to him. They knew of his fathers extended stay in Azkaban and the reluctance of his mother to serve their Lord – they considered him vermin for having parents like that. As was their belief, bad blood passes on and never diminishes; in their eyes he was of foul blood because of mistakes that weren't even his own.

Many times the thought of offing himself had crossed his mind. He had sought out deadly potions, selecting a few that were relatively simple to make and that were brewed with easily accessible ingredients. From there, he had deducted the poisons that would be either slow or incredibly painful. After that task he only had one potion left on his list, and that was stored away safely in his trunk.

Thinking of the reason he hadn't locked himself away in some empty classroom (that hadn't seen lessons in years) and downed the potion in one gulp yet brought a shaky smile to his, no doubt ghostly, face.

Zacharias Smith was the single student in the entire school that wouldn't attempt to trip him in the halls, secretly shoot a hex at him despite being under the watchful eyes of the Professors, or downright refuse to partner with him for various assignments. The tall Hufflepuff didn't mutter insults under his breath when he was near, either, which was why Draco had first suspected that the sandy-haired boy was kindly towards him.

They had built a tentative friendship – tentative on Draco's side, at least – by Christmas break; their bond only grew stronger over the Holidays. Letting his head fall back against the cold stone wall, the silver-eyed teen fell into reminiscence.

The memories floated across his closed eyelids – the smile that still adorned his lips became more visible.

Walking along the periphery of the Lake as the sun slowly drifted down the horizon had soon become an established routine, one which had been born during the very first week of the holidays. They had taken a stroll after the last carriage, full of excited students, disappeared from view. Some unspoken agreement had been made that day and they had continued to meet up every evening.

That's not to say that they had to actually seek each other out, for they were together most of the holidays as it was. Sitting in a small alcove at the back of the library, it had a couch instead of the normal sturdy tables (usually used for the studies of stressed fifth and seventh years during O. and N.E. in the hopes that the more relaxed environment would help relieve their minds of some of the pressure), reading in comfortable silence had also became a common thing for them to do.

If their faces weren't pressed into books, occasionally sneaking glances at one another, they were talking.

And, oh Merlin, Draco never knew that merely talking could be so liberating. In the beginning they spoke of little things, such as favourite dishes or recent Quidditch games; gradually they moved on to more personal topics, like what they aspired to be when they graduated Hogwarts.

Draco was more than a bit intrigued to learn that the Hufflepuff wished to be a Healer. He wasn't blind to the sharp tongue the other boy had, or the biting words he sometimes spewed (never at me, though, Draco thought gleefully). To be a Healer you not only had to have the ability and knowledge needed, but also had to be able to support a certain level of bedside manner. However Zacharias did wear a black and yellow uniform, so it wasn't completely incomprehensible.

When Draco had, in turn, said that he wanted to become a Potions Master, the brown eyes that looked back at him held none of the surprise that he was certain had been in his own eyes when Zacharias announced his ambition. When the lighter-haired boy had quietly revealed that he partially wanted to do so because his godfather, Severus Snape, whom was also a known Death Eater, was so excellent at potions, Zacharias had only smiled and told him that he'd be a great Potions Master.

It was during one of those treasured talks that their relationship had moved to a place Draco sometimes dreamed about going, but had hurriedly dashed from his mind, because he thought there was no plausibility behind his indulgent fantasies.

Draco's eyelid fluttered open and he caught sight of the ridiculously large smile adorning his face in the bathroom mirror opposite of him. With the thought of soft lips lingering on his own, and the consequential tingling that spread throughout his body, he lifted himself off the floor to go meet the person he was possibly (maybe, probably, most likely) in love with for their daily sunset lit amble.

Review for the sake of slash? For if it wasn't for slash, I'm not sure I'd've been able to finish this particular round ;P