Harry found himself staring at the back of Draco's head in Potions. As he studied the fine blond hairs, he felt something different, darker - more complex - lurking just beneath the surface of his initial revulsion.
He watched the sun slant through the window and wash across Draco's head with a shimmering bar of white fire that accentuated Draco's blonde highlights. It was pretty. Harry tilted his head, a crooked smile playing over his lips.
"Harry?" Ron poked him. "Can I borrow some powdered slug?"
"Sure," Harry murmured dreamily.
Ron poked him again. "Harry?"
"What?" Harry asked, rather irritably. Couldn't Ron see that he was busy right now?
"Can I borrow your scales?" Ron asked, now looking slightly guilty.
"Go ahead." Harry shoved the scales at him, his eyes still riveted on Draco.
Hermione reached over to borrow a vial of spider venom. "You really should start measuring your ingredients now," she lectured Harry. "You know how Snape would love an excuse to give you another week's worth of detentions."
"Mmm-hmm," Harry mumbled.
Hermione returned the vial, now giving Harry her full attention. "Are you alright?" she asked, wrinkling her forehead.
Harry didn't answer. Draco was bending over to retrieve a bottle off the stone floor, and Harry was watching the light as it danced over the back of his head in a constantly changing, luminescent pattern.
"Mate?" Ron waved his hand in front of Harry's eyes, jolting Harry out of his reverie.
"I'm FINE!" Harry snapped. "I'll start working in a few minutes."
"Why are you staring at Malfoy like that?" Ron asked, abruptly.
"I'm not," Harry said, feeling unaccountably nervous. He didn't know why he should be nervous, but he was.
"You were," Ron insisted. "Like this." He let his head fall limply to one side and made his eyes slide slightly out of focus.
"Damn," Harry said, noticing the instructions on the board for the first time. "Listen, Ron, can I borrow some of your roots? I haven't got time to cut mine up."
Wordlessly, Hermione finished chopping her roots and shoved them at Harry. "Use mine, I'm finished with everything else," she said.
"Thanks," Harry said gratefully.
Ron handed him a small pewter bowl of mashed centipedes. "Here, I've got extra."
"Thanks," Harry said again.
"And here - " Hermione handed him half a cup of spider legs.
"Here, Harry - " Ron carefully set a teaspoon of marigold extract on the corner of the desk.
"Thanks, guys," Harry said happily. His friends really were the best.
Thanks to Ron and Hermione, Harry's potion was soon cheerfully simmering away in its cauldron, leaving Harry free to watch Draco. He didn't know why it was, exactly, but today Draco seemed particularly fascinating to him.
The way he stirred his potion, with his slender, graceful fingers... the way a lock of pale blonde hair fell across his smooth, even brow... the way his bright and intelligent eyes flashed dark with loathing whenever they happened to fall upon Harry.
A sudden, icy shock of realization surged through his veins, nearly knocking off his chair. He was in love with Draco!
He didn't know how... only that somehow, suddenly, inexplicably and undeniably, he was.
Harry glanced at Ron, a cool sweat gathering at the base of his neck. It trickled down his spine in an icy rivulet between his shoulder blades.
Somehow, he sensed that Ron would not understand. Ron despised Malfoy. He and Hermione both did. For that matter, so did Harry! He absolutely abhored the arrogant little prat. But these qualities were also, Harry thought, what made Malfoy so endearing.
Harry glanced again at Ron, who was glaring at Malfoy's back with his eyes narrowed in supreme aversion; and at Hermione, who was staring at the same boy with a mixture of equal amounts pity and repugnance on her face.
He, Harry, knew that he would never be able to explain to them how he had suddenly fallen in love with his arch enemy.