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June 2014

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rasgado, my wonderful, wonderful beta, is too busy nowadays so I asked my darling friend, bittersplendor to beta this for me. I know, I know, why should I write when I suck, right? But then, again...

Title: Attempts
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: H/D, Oneshot
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry does not know how to say, “I love you” to Draco Malfoy.
Disclaimer: You know who owns these characters. Why bother asking?
Author’s Notes: For bittersplendor. I swear, this was the original plot. When I read yours I was like, “uh-oh”. My apologies…

Harry Potter does not know what to do. He thinks he does – he’s practised his lines over and over again, until Ron had flung his drapes aside and yelled for him to shut up and keep his thoughts to himself – but Harry is wrong, very wrong. For at this moment, when the time has finally come, the Boy-Who-Lived was at a loss.

Harry does not know how to say, “I love you” to Draco Malfoy.


He first tries on the day of their anniversary. Do they even have an anniversary? Harry is not really sure, but he knows that it is the exact day last year when they first started to fuck, and for some reason, it is lodged inside his head. He might’ve even scribbled it down on his journal (Hermione’s gift, sixth year – “Do jot down your thoughts, Harry, it’ll do you some good!”) to help make him remember, but problem is, he couldn’t find the journal in his trunk anywhere, so he doesn’t really have any proof. Then again, it doesn’t matter.

Draco is glaring at him from across the table, his reddish lips curled up in his trademark sneer. His pale fingers are drumming impatiently on the polished wood, waiting for Harry to speak. When Harry doesn’t, he rolls his eyes and leans back on his chair. “What is it this time, Potter?” he asks.

Harry shifts uncomfortably and tries to speak. “I –“ his face is full of chagrin, and he tries to smile, albeit awkwardly, his Gryffindor courage suddenly dissipating. “Happy Anniversary?”

When Draco laughs, Harry flinches. Draco’s laugh is mocking, and though Harry knows he should be used to it by now, he can’t help but frown. Draco stifles his laughter and wipes stray tears from his eyes. “Calm down, Golden Boy, no need to start a duel with me now. Not that you’ll win, but, anyway, that’s not the point.” His mercurial orbs glints as he regards the pathetic setup Harry has tried to do – a candlelight dinner – and sighs. “Potter, are you serious about us?”

Harry’s eyebrows meet together. “What?”

Draco smirks. “Because you know, we just enjoy fucking each other senseless. Nothing more.” His smirk fades as Harry looks back at him. Blankly. “Right, Potter?”

Harry stands up, his face a mixture of anger and disappointment. All he wants to do now is to punch Malfoy and break that pretty face of his, but finds he can’t. Too much attachment.

Harry thinks the moment for him to say “I love you” was gone, and walks away.


The second try comes after a month, when Harry has thought things over and decides he still wants Draco Malfoy fucking him senseless. He thinks Draco is just in denial, because Gryffindors never really lose hope, do they? Besides, his craving for Draco was now too intense, and if he doesn’t claim that exquisite body of his soon, Harry knows he’ll drive himself nuts.

So now Harry is standing in front of the Slytherin dormitory (Harry had bullied one of the lower year to give him the password to the commons), preparing himself to knock and apologise to the Slytherin Prince.

“Oh, God, Draco!”

Harry’s insides freezes as he hears the voice and thinks, “Oh, God, Draco, no.” before barging inside, in spite of his brain shouting for him not to.

Blaise Zabini is sprawled on Draco’s bed, panting, while Draco lay on top of him. Both were naked, sweat beaded on their pale bodies. Harry gasps.

"Really, Potter, have you no manners at all? Try knocking first before entering, why don’t you?” Draco had rolled off Blaise and was now propped up on one arm, a blanket draped over his lower body. Harry is actually surprised the other boy even thought of covering himself up.

“I –  ”

“Came to propose another bargain with me?” Draco smirks. “I knew it. Nobody can stand my precious beauty.” He laughs. “But, as you can see, I’m pretty busy right now. Come over a little later – we’ll talk.

Harry slides the door close behind him and shuts his eyes. For the second time, the moment was gone.


Harry thinks there is no third try, but there is. This time it comes on Christmas Day, just before the war starts. Harry tells himself Draco deserves to know what is really going on, even if he’s in his room right now, shagging Blaise to oblivion, without a care in the world but his personal pleasure. There is also another reason why Harry thinks Draco deserves to know, and that is because Harry needs to let him know, in order for the thorn in his side to disappear. Call it selfish but after two tries, two moments, Harry is just tired. And desperate.

Harry knows Draco is staying over for the holidays, just like what he’s been doing for the past two years. This is because Draco is too intelligent for his father – he knows Voldemort will fall sooner or later – and too much of a coward to become a Death Eater or a warrior for the Light. So, Harry looks for him in the Slytherin commons, but all he gets is an accusatory glare from Parkinson and a “Don’t even try – he’s mine” look from Zabini. After a few moments, Harry finally deduces that Draco is not within the premises and leaves.

Harry looks for him everywhere – in the Prefect bathroom, in the Great Hall, in the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff commons (being the War Hero has its perks), hell, he even looks for him in the Library – but doesn’t find the boy. He stops, exhausted, and finds himself in front of the statue leading to Dumbledore’s office. Before he could even think, the statue springs to life and out comes Draco.

Followed by Narcissa Malfoy.

Draco looks at him for a second, before resuming his walk and following his mother. Harry blinks rapidly. Then, his arm shoots out and grabs Draco by the wrist. “Wait.” He says.

Draco turns and Harry sees that Draco’s face has lost all color in it. His silver eyes are wide and scared, but immediately turns feral upon meeting Harry’s emerald ones. “Don’t touch me.”

“Draco, darling, we’re going to be late.” Narcissa’s voice is impatient, and her look on Harry filled with disdain. Harry, on the other hand, doesn’t look at her, and simply holds Draco’s gaze, a plea hidden in it. Draco sighs, giving Harry a flicker of hope. “Go on ahead, Mother. I’ll just be dealing with some matters.” Narcissa gives a small huff of irritation but walks away, nonetheless.

Draco breaks free of Harry’s hold and takes a few steps backward. “What is your problem?” he asks, annoyed.

Harry is about to say I love you, it’s at the tip of his tongue, but instead blurts out, “Where are you going?”

Draco smirks and looks at him up and down. “What’s it to you, Scarface?” he asks back.

“I… Why… why are you going?” Harry’s glasses are slipping from his nose, because of sweat and anxiety. Hastily, he pushes them back up.

Draco laughs menacingly and suddenly pulls at his robe, revealing his right forearm. Harry’s world stops. A Dark Mark is shining mockingly on it. “I would kill you now, Potter, but the Dark Lord expects the final battle.” He laughs again and whips out his wand, pointing it threateningly at Harry, who is still too stunned to react. “I’ll see you in the field.”

Draco starts to walk away and inspiration suddenly surges through Harry. If he tells him now, there might still be a chance for him to turn back. Harry opens his mouth to speak. “Draco.”

Draco stops but doesn’t turn. “Don’t call me that.”

“I hate you.”

Harry is surprised at the anger he feels, his pride that has been trampled on by a number of times by the same person fighting to stand back up. His eyes are blazing with fury, his nose flaring and his lips set in a grim line. Not exactly a pretty sight, but Harry doesn’t care about that now. He never did.

Draco still doesn’t look back. “Don’t worry, Potter, the feeling is indeed very mutual.”

This time, it is Draco who walks away.


It has been a year. Harry’s eyes are no longer swollen but there is still a burning emptiness in his heart. Outside, shouts of triumph and merrymaking could be heard, but in the secluded walls of Harry’s flat, there is only loneliness and whispers of despair. Harry had killed Voldemort and fulfilled his destiny to be a hero, and the Wizarding world had been celebrating for a week now. People have tried to persuade Harry to join but he threatens them with Killing Curses every time. Some people pretend they understand, say that Harry is tired and sick of all the battles that had gone and was dealing with his personal pain, the pain of his friends’ deaths, of Dumbledore’s, of Lupin’s. Harry cynically tells himself that they are close, but not quite. Harry will deal with those later, because a bigger ache was still in the gaping hole of his heart, one that has been there longer than everything else.

Ron shouts at him a few hours later, calling him ‘selfish’ and ‘obsessed’ and ‘idiot’ and ‘pathetic’. “There are more important people to grieve for, Harry, why him? Why just him?” And Harry looks up and gives his best friend a bitter smile before whispering, “Because he’s still here. He’s been here all this time, and yet I can’t get to him.” Ron makes an agitated sound and Harry shakes his head. “You won’t understand. Just… just leave me for a while, okay?”


The door bursts open and Hermione comes running inside, her hand gripping the doorknob very tightly. Ron walks towards her and tries to ask her to calm down, but she won’t. Her brown eyes are filled with panic as she looked at Harry. “It’s… they’re… Malfoy…”

At the sound of Draco’s name Harry stands up, face troubled. “What? What about Draco?”

Hermione takes another breath before speaking. “They’re about to administer the Kiss.” She’s always understood, and when Ron tries to stop Harry, she holds him back.

In a few moments, Harry has Apparated to Azkaban.



For a second, Harry thinks he’s too late, but his shout had startled the Minister, and surprisingly, the Dementor.

“You can’t save me, Potter.”

Harry gasps for air and looks wildly at the Minister, who solemnly shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Harry, but Mr. Malfoy’s criminal acts are far too grave. I cannot bend the rules for you. Not this time.”

Tears are welling up on Harry’s bright green eyes, now, and he falls on his knees. “Just… one second. Please…”

Harry thinks there is no fourth try, but there is. Harry thinks if ever there was a fourth try, it wouldn’t be under these circumstances, but it is. Slowly, he looks up to the waiting eyes of Draco Malfoy. This time there is no hesitation. “I love you.”

Draco lips weakly curls into a smirk and he reaches out one arm. “Took you long enough.” Harry gasps and tries to hold Draco’s hand, but the Kiss has been administered, and it falls, instead, unceremoniously on the cold stone floor.

Harry screams and reaches out for Draco’s hand, his tears falling against the cooling skin.


“I love you.”

Harry whispers it every time now, and he doesn’t care if Draco never answers back. He presses Draco’s hand against his cheek and whispers the words again, this time looking at Draco’s blank silver eyes. They are lying on Harry’s bed tonight, for many nights now, and slowly Harry lowers his lips to kiss Draco.

“I love you.”


Like it? Don't like it? I don't care, just comment, please! *g*


Poor Harry. That was so sad. Beautifully done, but sad.
Thank you! ♥
oh! the angst!

nakaka-ilang update ka sa tq sa isang araw? grabe! hehe
It's just because I was transferring my old fics. ♥
Gah! this is soo sad. but soo good! i cant figure out whether to smile or cry! :S *adds to memories*
Heya! Thanks!!