disclaimer: I own nothing related to Harry Potter. Never have, won't anytime soon.

Slash fic. Homophobics, ye be warned.

a/n: I came up with a plotline similar to this when I was doing homework one night. I decided to type it up, and the result was this. I hope it's ok!

Prologue

Perfect.

That is the one word that describes him. All of him.

His laugh. His eyes. His mouth. His smile. His teeth. His body. His hair. His skin. His mind. His scar.

Perfect. That is also what we were once.

We are, wait, no, were perfect for one another. We were soul mates.

We care about each other more than anything else in the whole world.Well, at least we did.

Now, I wouldn't blame him if he hated me.

For I broke his bloody perfect heart. I ripped it out, stomped on it, and fed it to my dog. Well, I don't have a dog, but you get my point.

After I did that, things changed. His emerald eyes lost their dancing brightness. His unruly raven-hair is lifeless. He has gone from golden tanned to unhealthily pale; as well as from well built to deadly thin. He himself has become broken. He lets himself waste away. Like a zombie.

Because of me. Because of what I did.

His friends worry, but there is nothing they can do.

Nothing. For they know nothing. They do not know why their Savior has become this way.

They don't know I hurt him the worst way possible. They didn't even know we were together. No one did.

What he doesn't know is that I am suffering as well. I regret what I did to him, and I wish we were still together, happy and perfect.

Looking at him hurts. Feeling his presence in the same room as me hurts. Knowing he misses me hurts.

I can't stand hurting like this. So I respond the way I was raised to.

I hurt him back. I push him away. I insult him, taunt him.

I feel guiltier and guiltier, day by day. I know that me hurting him taints his perfection even more. My actions break his soul; they eat away his will to live.

I want to stop. I want to take him in my arms, and beg for his forgiveness. I want to cuddle with him again. I want to kiss him, hold him, make love to him. I want to run my fingers through his hair. I want back what we had once. I beg myself to stop hurting the one I love.

But I can't stop, for I am scared.

Yes, I, a Malfoy, am scared.

But what could a cold-hearted Malfoy be scared of? you wonder.

Malfoy's aren't suppose to get scared, my father always told me.

But I am.

I am scared of love.

TBC