Was it always going to be this hard, she wondered? Every night, every day, she dreamed about him. All he had to do was walk into the same room and she would know he was there. She could feel it when he was about to touch her. She could feel it when he looked at her. And yet, he would never know.

He would never know how much it hurt all of that year, through the summer. He could never possibly understand all the tears he made her cry, all of her lonely nights. He could never know how hard it was to look at him and not kiss him, touch him, feel him, want him for, forever.

For all time she would remember him, she would always know he was who she was meant to be with. She would always remember his smile, his certain tendencies.

Like the way he tried to seem so tough to everyone. That he truly wasn't broken inside. Or how, she knew always what he meant, the real reason for his question. Or how she would always be able to tell, when he was faking it. And gods did that boy know how to fake it well.

The smile he wore would forever be deathly, but his eyes we're the danger that invoked Voldemort to his dark side. She laughed an evil laugh as a chill ran up her spine. Those eyes, that smile, was only danger to her. Danger to her because it held such temptation, such knowledge, such wisdom, such everything she could ever need, and at the same time, everything she knew she was born to complete. She could drown in those eyes.

Oh how they would shine for her! Only her! And his smile, when he turned her way, how he would smile, oh how he would. At first it was born in secret, and then spread to the point that he could no longer hide it. But the truth was it was never meant to hide in the first place.

Was this what love truly was? To wait and watch and never receive? She constantly wondered what she had done to deserve this, this pain, this agony. She hated the way how she noticed every thing about him.

His stance, what a stance he had. Such power, such dominance, and such confidence. Or rather, that's what it was meant to display. His body, it was so fluid. Every movement he made such grace, and even more power and dominance at view.

She rolled onto her back, beautiful dark red hair, making its own blanket on the pillow. Like a flower blossoming around her head. Her position changed as she pondered. What made him drop all of that when she was around?

When they were alone together he became himself. He dropped the act, the façade and opened up to her. He let her in. She could never even begin to phantom why. Why did he do it to her and not some other girl?

For a while she let herself carry on the notion that he might actually care. That he might notice her, or at least realize she existed for him and him alone. For if he didn't, would he really carry on this way with her? The times they spent we're fun, and exhilarating. And she hated how differently she had to act once someone else came around.

Little insults here and there, a little bit of pride torn from each side. Was it really worth it? Yes!, her mind screamed. Because then he knew her spirit, her pride, and that she wouldn't just wallow at his knees no matter what.

For the night, she supposed, she spent enough time on her troubles. "Draco," she began, and as always loved the way it rolled off of her tongue, "I will always love you. Don't forget that." And with that she blew a kiss, secretly wishing she had the courage to send him what had been true ever since she met him. Finshing that, she turned onto her side, turned off the light and fell to sleep, dreaming of the man of her dreams, and heart.

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Author's Note:
If I get a lot of reviews to continue the story I will.