Disclaimer: The last two books do NOT exist. Yea. Exactly.

Sap, romance, male/male, non-graphic sex (if thats possible)

I don't own. Anything. Really.

The wind tears at him. I see it, but I can't stop it. I watch him; always watch him from afar. I never come near, never say a word. He doesn't even know I'm here, waiting for him to see me finally. He never does, and so we both sit. He watches the lake, and the sky, and lets the wind tear at him, and I watch him. How his gorgeous hair shifts with the wind. It looks so soft, so free... It's dark, like the forest looming in front of him. I just want to go over to him, and run my fingers through his mane of ebony hair.
The only time I touch him is when I push him against the wall, and use him for my own needs. Every few days, same time, same place. Always. He could miss a meeting, he could move on. But he's always there, waiting for me, ready for me to use him again. My hands rest at his hips, but never linger anywhere else. Never move, not once. I don't see his face, his painfully beautiful face, or that damned scar. The mark that sets him apart for the rest of the world, that makes him special. Special to them, but that's not why he's special to me. Just from watching him, I know that he's different. He listens. You can tell from his reactions to even the smallest things. He knows what real life is like. This school shelters people from realities that people don't want their children to face. Yes, we are here to learn, but to many parents, that's just a benefit of the protection that these walls provide. But he... he knows better than even the oldest person that bad things happen, even to good people. He knows things that people our age don't want to. You can tell, by looking in his eyes. Just one more reason he faces the wall when I use him for my own perverted needs.

I could hurt him. I could break him so easily. I could do so many different, terrible things to him. But I don't. I have only hurt him, abused him, once. Just once, and he left soon after I did, that night. And for once, I was afraid. For once, I realized that I love him. And that night, I cried, in fear, in pain. I cried for his forgiveness, for his love, for his acceptance. For his help. I knew it would never happen that he couldn't help me. But I still wanted it, still yearned for the "Savior" of the wizarding world to save me.
We don't talk, when I use him. No hellos or goodbyes. No sounds, except for grunts of pleasure, and moans of need. Not even sweet-heart names for each other when we're coming. Nothing. He is my toy, nothing more. And even though I wish that I could somehow be more to him, I cannot. So we say nothing, as I take what I want from him. He says nothing as I leave, quickly after. He says nothing for moments, and then I can hear, waiting outside the door. I hear him fall to the ground, and cry. Simply cry. And it breaks my heart, leaves me stranded. Doesn't he know by now, that I can't be what he needs?

I sit still, feeling his eyes bore into my back. He doesn't realize that I know he watches me. Doesn't realize that I know he cares. Why can't he just step up?

It all started late one night, with an innocent, innocent touch. Completely accidental, and suddenly – my whole world changed. Suddenly we were meeting up every three days. I'd stand, waiting for him, naked. Let him turn me away from him, push me against the wall, and use me again and again, until he was spent. Then, he'd leave, leaving only marks of his hands on my hips – the only real sign he'd been there at all. Like clockwork, every three days, same time, same place and he was there: the whole thing would start over again. He'd fuck me in that plain room, against the same wall. Use me until I couldn't walk properly. And he'd just leave, without a word, without a touch. Without a kiss. Nothing. And I waited for him to leave before I fell to the ground, covering my face with my hands and weeping. He never knew how much I wanted him. And for a long time, I never thought he'd even care.

One night, I left almost right after he did. The hope of him coming back had faded as I saw the anger on his face. He pushed himself into me, painfully, carelessly, and I knew something was different. And that one night, I wanted nothing more to do with him. I let him use me and leave, but instead of staying, of crying, I just stood, and then left. And I saw him, standing outside of the hallway, with his eyes shut, leaning against the wall like he'd wanted to go back in, like he wanted something to be different. And I said nothing, just slipped down the hallway, and into an abandoned classroom, waiting for him to leave. And that's when I heard him, crying. Softly begging forgiveness to the air… begging for my forgiveness. He never spoke when he was in the room, never. Never said so much as a hello. Never whispered so much as a goodbye. And he never looked at my face for more than a short, silent moment.

But he watched me, while I sat at the lake, the day after. Like clockwork. I stared into the lake, sitting on the same rock, and he watched me from the same perch, day after day. And I said nothing. Nothing. Silence goes two ways, I know, but it felt like an unspoken rule – that if I said something, I would lose the small amount of contact I had with him. And I couldn't live with that. I needed him, now. More than I needed food, or water. More than I needed any single thing. I needed him to be there, to be with me. He made me feel complete, those days when he used me.

Bitterly, I got up. I knew something needed to change, but I couldn't find it in myself to change anything. He was my world now, and I couldn't lose him by telling him that I needed him, that I loved him.

I turned to face where I knew he was hiding, and walked closer until I could see his blonde, nearly white hair. I didn't know what I was doing anymore, but I stepped closer, until I was inches away from him. I could feel his breath on my lips, but I didn't turn away, or back up. And neither did he. And hope sprung up in m heart.

I didn't know what he was doing. When he got up, I backed up as far as I could, hiding myself more. I didn't want him to know that I was watching him. What if he knew I cared? I couldn't be what he wanted, what he deserved. I wasn't good enough to really be with him, no matter how dependent I felt. There would be a day when he would find someone better, and leave. And I knew that. I accepted the fact, even though I used him.

But as he came closer, I knew that he knew I was there. And my breath caught. As he locked eyes with me, I got up and watched him hesitantly. I didn't know what to do, but I couldn't move.

His lips parted, and suddenly I was aware of the world, again. I was aware of my burning lungs, and inhaled, breathing in sweet relief. We were inches apart, now, and I couldn't focus on anything but his face. Those eyes, his lips, the smell of his sweet breath, and the warmth of it hitting my face. At that moment, if the building behind us was burning down, I wouldn't have noticed.

I felt like I was burning. Heat, scalding heat, enveloped my body. The look he was giving me set me aflame, for more than just his body. I realized, now, that I wanted more than just to use him. I wanted to know him, really know him. I wanted to hold him at night, having him fall asleep on my chest. I wanted to be the reason he laughed, and smiled – not the reason he cried anymore. And I closed the gap between us. Even though it couldn't have been more than a few inches, it felt like I walked a mile, to place my lips on his, and to hope that he didn't reject me. I wasn't sure what I would do if he did. I knew, now, that I couldn't live without him being mine, and only mine.

And so I kissed him, hopefully, longingly. And he didn't kiss me back. Sadly, I pulled back and turned around, starting the long, cold, lonely walk back to the castle. And then I felt his hand on my shoulder, stopping me, turning me around. And I saw those damned green eyes, brimming with tears, with emotion. And I hung my head. I couldn't tell him all of the things that I wanted to. I couldn't explain to him how sorry I was, how much he meant to me.

"Without you… I can't breathe," I mumbled, half hoping he wouldn't hear me. I dropped my head, and shut my eyes, knowing that this would be the part where he told me that he couldn't stand me.

But instead, I felt gentle fingers under my chin, making me look up at him. And then, his lips were on mine, and my arms were wrapped around him. And I felt complete, finally.

And as he pulled away for a breath, I heard him say, "there's time for talking… later." And then, his lips were on mine again, and the rest of the world faded away.

Fin.