Hey everyone, how are you? This is just a simple, rough oneshot that features onesided DracoxHarry, though the romance aspect of it is pretty italicized sections are memories, and the present-time sections that are in first person are Draco's POV.

Warnings: None, really, except that there may be sprinklings of atrocious grammar and spelling mistakes due to my lack of a beta. Oh, and that older Draco seems to be OOC and quite a big pansy D:.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I'm just playing with their universe.

October Lights

The peculiar October light may flicker and fade, but never does it lose its warmth. It's got a color to it, almost, even a texture. Sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly distant, I'll tell myself it is like honey. Golden and pretty and sweet, but never quite lasting.

Other times, I'll tell myself that these soft October lights filter over my dreams and frame my far-off memories. I'll tell myself that they struggle at the edges of my consciousness, just wishing to be seen and felt.

Sometimes, I tell myself nothing at all. Sometimes silence and reality are enough for me.

Two little boys stood face to face at the base of a stairwell, unheeding of the forming crowd around them or of the large double doors to their left. The blond boy, whose hair shone brilliantly in the firelight, was holding out his hand. Join me, I'll help you make the best sort of friends.

The taller, dark-haired boy he was addressing seemed to be torn. On one hand, he could abandon his one and only friend at this new school of his and accept this boy's offer, but yet...

The blond boy, Draco was his name, shifted his head impatiently. The dark-haired boy couldn't help but to notice how Draco's hair shone in the light, almost as if it were woven strands of gold. Harry, you know I can help you, said Draco impatiently, so why are you hesitating? Harry felt like he was struggling against the hold of Draco's pretty hair rather than the boy's offer.

But looking into Draco's eyes, Harry couldn't help but to notice how cold his character was, how prideful he was, and how prejudice oozed from his every pore. He knew that he could never have a friend like this.

And so, despite his urge to touch Draco's striking golden hair, he refused the handshake and walked on into the large dining hall with his fiery-haired friend, Ronald Weasley.

You never realize how important something is to you until it is far beyond your reach. I learned this firsthand.

As I was growing up, I always took things like money, relationships, and status for granted. To the young me, they were simply things I'd always had, and always would have. I never gave them much thought. I thought, somehow, that things would always be the same, day in and day out. I would always have Crabbe and Goyle trailing me, Snape helping me pick on Gryffindors, Pansy trying to smother me with kisses, and most importantly, I would always have Harry Potter as my rival.

In the aftermath of the Final Battle, I realized this was definitely not the case. Crabbe and my godfather were dead, and Pansy had been whisked away by her parents to wait out the rest of the chaos.

And now that the war was over, there was no longer any reason for Harry to be my enemy or rival. There was no longer any reason for him to even acknowledge my presence. He had suddenly moved one step further from me.

For some reason, it hurt me to realize that I no longer had any connection to him. Even if it was as my rival, even if it was as my enemy, I'd grown used to his presence. Now, I had countless years ahead of me in which he would take no part.

As those countless years passed, and thought upon thought crossed my mind, I began to realize that during those years in which I had been in contact with him, I had grown to love him. I don't know at which point exactly the animosity morphed into an obsessive sort of affection, but when I look back on those days, I now realize there had always been subtle signs.

But my love for him was just that: animosity that had morphed into an affection I was never aware of until it was too late.

"Out of my way, Potter!"

Draco Malfoy was frustrated beyond belief. Up until a couple of minutes ago, he'd been going about his day as he always did. But when he'd turned the corner to his Charms class, he'd been faced with a sight that made him feel almost sick to the stomach. Why were there no teachers around to monitor the halls when they were most needed?

Right in front of him, smack-dab in the middle of the hallway, Potter and that Weasley girl were kissing. And it wasn't just a friendly peck on the cheek or forehead, they were sharing a kiss that spoke of love and romance, the eternal, happily-ever-after sort.

In his frustration, Draco shoved himself right through the couple, forcing Harry to release his hold on his girlfriend. He didn't miss the dirty look the Boy-Who-Lived shot him, but rather, Draco chose to ignore it. He was seething, and could not think straight. He would make a fool of himself if he chose now to pick a verbal fight with Potter. He reassured himself by thinking that there would be many other days in which he could fight with the other boy.

As the blond boy sat daydreaming during his Charms class, he chalked up that sick feeling he'd felt when he witnessed Potter kissing to absolute disgust. Two of the worst sort of wizards had been cavorting and being intimate in public!

Later that day, when he'd recounted that incident and his feelings to Pansy, the Slytherin girl had given him a skeptical look.

"Are you sure you didn't just break them up from their little show because you were jealous of Potter? I mean, I'm hesitant to even think it because it's a disturbing mental image, but could it be you have a thing for the Weasley girl?"

Now that I think of that day, I realize that I wasn't been disgusted because of their lowly positions in comparison to me. I wasn't jealous of Harry like Pansy had suggested, either.

I was jealous of Ginny Weasley, because she had been the one to receive what I had always unconsciously wished for.

I'm lying in the grass on one of the many hills on my mansion's property, staring out into the in the infinitely dark night sky. I can feel the dewdrops from the grass soaking into the back of my robes, but I don't care, really.

Sometimes, I wonder what things would have been like if I lived in a different universe. I wonder how things would have turned out if I had been sorted into Gryffindor, if I had been born into a different family, or if I had been born a muggle, even. There are countless points in my life of utmost importance that, had they gone differently, would have completely altered where I stand today.

If I had been born a Gryffindor, I would have had a much better chance of earning Harry's friendship and admiration. If I had been born into a different family, maybe I would not have had to face the total desperation I lived through during sixth year. Maybe, I would not have been on the side that lost the war. And maybe, I would have had parents that were not afraid of loving me.

I know this isn't true just for me, though. It must be the same for almost everyone else. It has to be the same for everyone else. Sometimes, I wonder what things would have been like for Harry had he chosen to take my offer and shake my hand on that day so many years ago.

The sky is so vast, and mostly, empty. Some people see the sky as a soaring hope, as a symbol of how far one can go and how high one can reach. Some think that there is no limit to what they can do, and that if they try hard enough, they can touch the ends of the sky.

But I don't think so. I'm afraid of the endlessness and emptiness of the sky. How can someone survive up in the constellations, all alone? I wouldn't want to reach for the stars, if it meant that the only thing to surround me for miles around would be darkness. I don't try to find Harry these days, and I don't feel the need to explain my feelings to him, wherever he may be. If I dared to hope for a happy outcome, or if I reached for what I still long for after all of these years, I would be reaching too far into the infinite darkness. We, as humans, always cast our eyes to the future and to what we can reach, but if we only look to where we can reach, before we know it, we will be alone.

The days pass by and the seasons change, and before I realize it, it's October again. I briefly think of Harry Potter, like I do on most days, and then I turn my attention to the soft lights outside of my window. The lights make the scene outside the window look almost like a browned photograph, or a far-off memory.

Through years of meticulous philosophical thought and introspection, I have come to a revelation about myself today.

When I was young I was focused on the present. When I grew up, I looked into the infinite future. And when I looked into the future, only to find emptiness and loneliness, I realized that I would always live in the past.

Far off in the distance, Harry Potter pauses in his hectic duties as a husband and a father when he finds himself suddenly thinking of a blond-haired rival he hasn't seen for twenty years. It must have been the way the light shone on his wife's golden jewelry, he tells himself.

Fin