Draco's cologne was the sexiest Harry had ever smelled. No man in their right mind would wear cologne that smelled that good around a gay man unless there was torture involved. And it was torture. Sitting a row behind Draco where he got a good whiff of it every time the breeze swished through the window into the stifling hot room.

That was only the most obvious thing Draco did to prove how much he hated Harry. The snide remarks had long since disappeared. That had been Harry's first clue. As long as Draco had taunted and teased him, Harry had had no problems ignoring how nicely he filled out his Auror Trainee's robes. But the sneering had stopped months ago, and now Harry was left with only the obvious. That Draco was smart, witty, bloody gorgeous, and totally uninterested in Harry. Oh, and that Draco hated him. Perhaps more than ever, judging by the way Draco completely ignored him.

To torture Harry with his cologne wasn't the only reason Draco sat next to the window. Harry was sure he sat there for another reason as well. Because every afternoon at two o'clock the sun would shine through the dusty panes, bounce off Draco's unnaturally white hair, and make it glow. Harry had caught himself more than once reaching out to see if it was as soft as it looked. Thankfully, the rest of the class had been so immersed in learning that they hadn't noticed.

And if it weren't enough that Draco was gorgeous and smelled like heaven, he had the nerve to be friendly. How soon they had all forgotten that he was a spiteful, arrogant, almost-Death Eater. Just because he was smart and helpful and had saved Sampson's life in the first week, didn't mean he had changed. Although, Harry knew he had changed, he just hated that everyone else seemed to recognize it before he had. Which was just another reason Draco hated him.

"Okay, class dismissed. Remember, Monday we'll be putting what we've learned into practice, so be prepared."

When Draco stood up, he smiled. Those perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth that seemed too perfect for a mere human. Harry was sure he used a Glamour. And he flashed that smile at everyone but Harry. Okay, maybe he'd flashed it at Harry too, in the beginning, but Harry had been sure it was a trick and had scowled. Now Draco smiled even more, but never at him. Harry was sure it was just to show him how much Draco hated him.

Harry caught the empty stare for a split second before Draco looked away, patting his partner on the back and mumbling something about needing to change and that he'd meet them at the pub later.

"Coming down to the pub, Harry? It's Friday, remember?" Harry tried to smile at his classmate, but he was sure it looked more like a grimace. "You really should come. We've missed you."

Harry nodded. He might as well. The pub was plenty big enough for him to ignore Draco. He watched as Draco walked away, his arm still draped nonchalantly over his partner's shoulder. No one should be able to walk that gracefully. And there was no doubt in Harry's mind that Draco knew it made Harry's head swim. The long, confident strides. The long, lean legs. The long torso, the thin waist, the shoulders, just broad enough to make Harry wonder what they'd feel like between his hands as he pressed them against the wall.

"Alright, mate. I'll see you there then?"

Harry simply nodded again as he watched Draco exit the door, his laughter burning in Harry's ears.

~~~

"You really should stop staring, mate. People are starting to talk."

Harry took the proffered glass, not caring what was in it, and chugged it in one long gulp. "He already hates me, Ron. What difference does it make if everyone talks?"

Ron sat in the chair across from Harry and studied him. "You keep saying that, but I don't really see it. He hasn't been rude to any of us in over a year."

"I can just tell. Trust me; there are a hundred reasons why Draco Malfoy hates me." At that moment Draco turned, his carefully blank eyes locking for a second before Harry looked away. One more reason Harry knew Draco hated him. He'd made a study of Draco's expressions over the last year. Draco had the most expressive eyes of anyone he'd ever met. He laughed with them, smiled with them, frowned with them. But when he looked at Harry, they were lifeless and empty. Harry hated it more than he could ever express.

Ron gave him that look. The one that he seemed to give on a daily basis lately, but Harry had no idea what it meant. "Whatever you say, Harry. Want another drink?"

"Yeah. Another drink would be great."

~~~

There was absolutely no reason for Draco to constantly sit across from him at lunch and eat like that. No one really ate like that. All lips and tongue and mms and ahs. In truth, it should be illegal. And in between bites there were the smiles and the laughs and ... that stupid little crinkle on his forehead when he was thinking. Harry was sure Draco did in on purpose because it looked so damn cute. Because Draco hated him. It couldn't be any more obvious.

And if that weren't bad enough, it never failed that whenever he reached for the salt, Draco would have an unreasonable urge to reach for it at the same time. Or the pepper, or the vinegar. It didn't matter what they had for lunch, whatever Harry reached for, Draco's hand would be there and that touch would burn Harry straight through to his bones. Draco would always pause, looking at him with those vacant eyes, until Harry would pull his hand back and look away. He was certain Draco was laughing at him on the inside and the humiliation scorched him. He still had enough of his pride to ignore it. At least until he was alone in the shower and he could wash away his misery and pretend it could disappear down the drain.

~~~

Draco had even got to Ron, and that, Harry had decided, had hurt more than anything else. He could handle the cologne and the smiles and the damned blank stares, but watching his friend lean forward, head practically touching Draco's as they talked, was the final straw. He needed to escape before he did something completely stupid, like grabbing Draco by the hair of the head and dragging him to the hallway to hex him. Or kiss him. Or do any number of things that he could imagine himself doing.

~~~

"What do you mean you're leaving? Harry, we graduate in less than two months. You can't just leave."

Harry ignored Ron. It wasn't that hard to do anymore.

"Alright, fine. Run away, but you're being an idiot. He doesn't hate you."

"This has nothing to do with Draco. I just don't want to be an Auror anymore. And he does hate me. I can tell." Harry closed his trunk and flung his trainee robe over the bed.

"Okay," Ron said, sighing heavily. "Just meet me for dinner tonight to ... I don't know, celebrate."

~~~

Harry arrived at the restaurant half an hour early. He felt bad abandoning Ron, but honestly, Ron didn't need him anymore anyway. He was a great Auror. He'd be better off without Harry around to steal his spotlight.

"Mr Harry Potter?"

Harry looked up, expecting the waiter. Definitely not expecting a strangely dressed man holding an ungodly huge bouquet of roses.

"Er... yes?"

"These are for you." The man sat the vase on the table, handing Harry an envelope before disappearing.

He opened the envelope, certain it must be some sort of mistake.

Harry stared at the note, irritated beyond belief that Ron would play such a dirty trick on him. He scowled at the roses, raising his wand to banish them to the four corners of the earth.

"Potter, don't."

Harry paused, his eyes moving in slow motion from the flowers to the man now standing next to the table.

"Did Ron put you up to this?" he practically growled. "I don't need your pity or your—"

"You really are that dense, aren't you?" Draco wrapped his long fingers around Harry's wand, letting his hand slip downward until it touched Harry's.

The touch burned even more when there was no pepper involved.

"You hate me."

Draco shook his head, his lips twitching before forming that beautiful, perfect smile. "Hate really is the wrong word, Harry."

"Then what?"

"I was playing hard to get, idiot. Obviously, I'm a bit too good at it."

The smile faltered, blank eyes staring down at Harry. Only this time Harry realised they weren't blank at all. They were carefully contained, covering an uncertainty that Harry had never looked long enough or deeply enough to see. An insecurity that Harry had never associated with Draco, past or present.

"Say something," Draco whispered.

"Ron's not coming for dinner, is he?"

Draco sighed, pulling his hand away. "No. But if you'd rather, I could owl him."

Harry reached out, catching Draco's hand before he could pull away completely. "I think I'd rather you didn't."

The End :-D