DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the other characters mentioned and I'm not making any money out of this. Only the plot is mine.

WARNING: This fan fic contains slash themes, which is male/male relationships. If you don't like it, don't read it.

Rated: R, not really worth it yet but I'm anticipating events to come ;)

Chapter 1

On and on it goes, when it stops, nobody knows. With a touch, or a kiss, or a sigh, or a dream? Time crushes us all with circles. With a punch, and a cry, and a tear, and a scream…

The smell of summer was in the air, chasing away the demons of winter. Warm days and stormy nights that released the tension of the humidity, were becoming more and more regular. People smiled; relaxed, there was an outbreak of disgustingly happy new couples, strolling along hand in hand, oblivious to everything going on around them. Early summer always brings them out, it's inevitable really.

It was the first warm week of the year and the students were out in force. Water fights broke out, ending in gales of almost hysterical laughter. For many, summer days and nights bring back memories of quiet happiness, a closeness born of complete relaxation, soft kisses under a warm and friendly moon, and the tender words of lovers whispering promises of forever that will never be kept.

The gentle sunlight seemed to wash the students clean of the looming evil in reality. The real world hid behind the corner, waiting to jump out on them, but for now they were content with ignorance. They laughed and played and loved. Enjoying the temporary peace they knew, deep down, would never last.

One person who never seemed touched by the warmth of summer was Professor Snape. He watched the children playing and wished for a return to innocence; for a return to the days when he didn't have to think about the future because he was young and indestructible. Snape had seen so many horrors in his life that he felt old beyond his years, and the summer heat never quite seemed to permeate the icy darkness shrouding his soul. He sighed deeply and turned to face Dumbledore.

"What is our next move then?"

Dumbledore glanced up at Snape, a serious look in his eyes. This secret war was taking its toll on the old man. The Ministry still refused to even acknowledge its existence, and all of the subterfuge made him feel as though he was running around in circles.

 "There is no next move. All we can do now is listen for news and wait. We must trust them."

Snape smiled bitterly at the word.

"Trust? There's no-one left to trust anymore."


The storm broke suddenly, prompting happy yells and screams from the children as they half-heartedly tried to cover themselves as they ran for shelter from the rain.

In the fading light Snape stared, unseeing, out of the window again. Memories threatened to overwhelm him, and he shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't like waiting." He stated abruptly, spun on his heel, and stalked out of the office.

"None of us do my friend." said Dumbledore sadly.


Draco Malfoy stood alone outside, arms outstretched and spinning slowly in the falling rain. The cool water was gradually washing away the unpleasant stickiness which had built up over the day. He slumped to the ground, his head spinning sickeningly, and tried to make sense of what had happened today.

Even with the comfort of the silence of the darkness, he was still confused. This was all Potter's fault.

The day had not started well for Draco. Breakfast in the Great Hall that morning had yielded more demands from his father. His heart had sunk when he saw the Malfoy owl gliding gracefully towards him. He knew that mail this early in the day meant only one thing: more orders and veiled threats. He was right.


It is time to stand up and be counted. The time to prove yourself is drawing near. Our friend is eager for you to return from school. However, at your request, I have decided to relent and allow you to remain at school until the end of the year. Your mother is also eager for your return and sends her love.

Do not disappoint or embarrass me Draco, and keep your eye on the Potter boy. He will be dangerous.


Eloquent and cold to the last, Lucius Malfoy however had never been one for subtlety. Draco sighed as he re-read the letter which he then folded and slipped into his robes. Did Lucius always have to be so obvious?

Draco was, however, immensely relieved to discover that he had until the end of the year to get himself out of the sticky predicament he was in. he knew there was no way he could join Voldemort's ranks of Death Eaters. Not anymore. After what he'd seen the previous summer and what he'd been subjected to, there was no way. Unfortunately, Draco could also see no way out of it which didn't result him dying a slow and painful death. Tricky, very tricky.

And then there was Potter, who was now a complete enigma to Draco. The blasted boy, no, man, he was definitely a man now, made no sense anymore and it was becoming very irritating. He would sneak looks at Draco during meals when he though no-one was watching. Draco always knew though. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise whenever those green beauties locked onto his face. He would turn, preparing to send back a challenging glare, when he would be stopped short by the pure longing in Potter's eyes. Time and again this happened; over and over he was stunned and paralysed by those eyes on him, seeming to look right into his most inner thoughts. It was annoying and very confusing. He was beginning to suspect that his 'arch rival' was attempting to mind-fuck him.

Then there had been Potions that afternoon. Predictably, Snape had paired Draco with Potter much to the chagrin of both parties. They both knew that their work suffered immensely when they were forced to work together because they were too busy trying to score points off of each other. The antagonistic nature of their relationship tended to constantly lose them house points.

Potter had sighed tiredly as he had moved to sit with Draco at the front of the class. He'd slumped into his chair, looking as dishevelled as ever, and began to inspect his notes on the, in Draco's opinion, completely pointless complexion enhancing potion they were supposed to be brewing that day.

"You really ought to improve your posture Potty." Draco had commented, hoping to start the ritual of how best to annoy Potter. "You look so common sitting like that."

Harry had looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Whatever."

"What? Not in the mood for a little friendly banter today?"

"Friendly?!" Harry snorted derisively. "Since when have you ever been friendly to the likes of me?" There had been a note of tired resignation to Potter's voice which thoroughly puzzled Draco. He'd decided not to comment and an uncomfortable silence had sprung between them as they worked diligently on their potion.

Draco had taken the opportunity to really study Potter's features, something he'd never bothered to do in the past. His eyes had obviously first been drawn to that dammed scar on Potter's forehead. The symbol of everything he was supposed to live up to, and the time to do it would probably be very soon, Draco had mused. He almost pitied Potter for having to live up to such impossibly high expectations. Almost, but then he remembered with bitterness how Potter smugly lorded over the rest of the 'lowly' students of Hogwarts. And the treacherous thought withdrew itself. His eyes then travelled over Potter's face. He noted the large eyes, high cheekbones and finely chiselled nose, the effect of which was softened by full lips and a rounded chin. Though he was loath to admit it, Potter's face was the quintessential face of a 'hero'; exuding strength and confidence. His eyes travelled down further, taking in the broad shoulders, strong fore-arms, and long delicate fingers which were, admittedly, ruined by the fat that Potter apparently chewed his fingernails. 'Such a disgusting habit.' He'd raised his eyes again to Potter's, and was mildly surprised to find them staring back at him. There was a moment of stillness before,

"What are you looking at?"

Draco was never one to blush or stutter, 'so ungainly', but at that moment he'd had no idea what to say. He was completely lost in the depths of those shockingly bright eyes, surrounded by sinfully long lashes.

He mentally shook himself, wondering what the hell was going on.

"Not a lot apparently." He'd said bluntly, turning away.

"Well stop it"

Draco had refused to look at his partner for the remainder of the lesson, unwilling to be drawn in to those bottomless eyes again. Potter, however, would surreptitiously steal little looks at him every now and then. More than anything, this bothered Draco because it kept making him want to blush.

He'd begun to wonder if he was ill.

Draco was still sitting in the rain, mulling upon the insanity that appeared to be taking over his world. He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the rain, feeling the deliciously cool droplets begin to sooth him. He opened his mouth and let the water hit his tongue and run down his throat.

It was then that he heard the footsteps approaching him. He sighed inwardly and slowly opened his eyes. Looking up, he was once again drawn into the dark green depths that were alive with warmth and seemed to radiate strength.



How do you know when you're in love? Is it the ache inside that feels as though it's always been there and will never go away? Or is it the tell-tale sign of when you always want to be near that person, no matter how frustrating, annoying and sarcastic they are?

Love is such an over-used word today. People bandy it around, parading their bravery at using it, when all they really do is cheapen it. Love should be anything but cheap; it should be intense and never-ending. Love is the ability to lose yourself completely in someone, so that you can't live without them. It's not boring, mundane affection. Love burns you up from inside, pounding through your veins. Passion. There's nothing else in the world. It's beyond all other emotion. There's nothing else in the world, it's all you can see. Intense, never-ending love.

But even this isn't the true nature of love. Love will always also mean pain, confusion and fear. For many it's just too much to take, but you have to because being without it would be so much worse. Pleasure and pain, forever locked together. Thinking becomes too hard, so all you can do is feel. Love, hate, whatever. It's all the same until you can think again. Slowly it comes back, and it scares you, how involved you got. You fell off the cliff, let go of the rope, let yourself fall too far. It was beyond obsession, and beyond irrationality. It made no sense, but it was right, good, true. The truth of your heart.

I fall in love too much.

This time though, this time there really is no hope. It physically hurts me when I see him and know he'll never be mine. In my dreams I can touch him, hold him, and when I wake I can still feel the heat and pressure of his lips upon mine. It kills me a little more each day knowing that this love is so terribly unrequited.

He could never love me back. I'm distant with my emotions, afraid. The way the world made me. I never seem to exude the passion that rages in me. Nobody is allowed to see my heart. But I'd let him. I'd let him in past all the barriers because I can see the good in him. I know it's there, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. I can see him. He'd heal me from the inside out. I know he would. Then I'd break apart the puzzle that is him and make a new picture, inscribing my name on every piece so that everyone would know he was mine.

I can remember every single thing I've ever said to him. I cringe as the memories echo in my mind, wishing that I could erase them so that they'd never happened. I hate that I never used to care, because now I love him and I ruined it before I even knew. I can't be alone anymore because I need him too much.

That's why I'm out here in the pouring rain on a warm summer night, looking down at Draco Malfoy. He's opened his beautiful stormy eyes, always so hard to read, and has whispered my name.



In the silence, I'm standing here.

Waiting for you to begin.

The story is long and tortuous

With barely an ending,

And I'm confused.

Looking for sense in a tale that has none.

You sing a song with no words

And tell a poem that doesn't rhyme.

There's no sense to you

And I don't understand why I care.

Because I threw out old rubbish from my heart

And made it clean for you.

You untwisted and defiled me,

Making me love myself and cry.

There's no sense because there's no ending,

And you won't let me make one.

I love you so much it hurts,

But I don't understand why.


A/N - OK wasn't sure if I should post this yet as I've got a bad habit of starting things and not finishing them. Any reviews would be nice, if I don't get any I won't have the incentive to carry on!