I've written this as a oneshot but I will let you guys decide for me.

Warnings - Homosexuality, one-sided Drarry, usage of cigarettes. If you are one who is offended by any of the warnings mentioned, please press the back button. If you like them, then delve into my fic. Thanks.

Always.

I've always needed you.

When I was and wasn't alone, when I ate or slept, I craved your warmth nudging its way beside me. Into me.

Yet I've always known that you're unattainable. Not to me. Maybe, loony Luna could've had you if she tried harder and looked pleasing like that red-haired Weaselette. But not me. I knew from day one that I didn't belong or come close to the league you were a part of, not as a friend.

I wanted to be someone in your life. I wanted to be your friend. That flew right out of the window when you chose the freckled ginger-head over an immaculate and faithful person like me. Arrogance, a result of your rejection, filled me like a river during a downpour. If I can't be your friend, I'll be anything, anyone, just so you could remember me down the lane. I became your enemy, one who is closer than a friend. I thought I'd be satisfied with that but there was always a gaping hole in my heart that waited for you to walk in and fill the nothingness. You wouldn't though, would you? Because I'm your enemy and you don't walk into the hearts of your enemies; you only destroy them.

And destroy you did.

Not intentionally, mind you!

I wouldn't blame you for a thing that's happened in my despondent life. Except for the scars you left so lovingly, so angrily on my alabaster chest. Every time I look at these scars - glaringly white and drawn against the skin on my chest, I feel you; I feel your hand imprinting inerasable patterns on my chest - love lines I'd say - and I find myself asking, no, begging you for more. Etch me more. Prove with your touches that this body of mine is yours for the taking. Yet, in your name, my hands explore my naked body in its entire profundity - scars on my chest, my navel, my blond hairline thickening as I trail the wisps towards my genitalia, my thighs, and my feet even. Eyes tightly closed, I picture you worshipping my body, licking it all over with your Gryffindor tongue as I moan in sheer ecstasy begging hoarsely yet again for you to bite me in places the world can see. They will look and they will know that I'm yours just as you are mine.

I get high with lust and when it all fades like mist on a very sunny day when I come down the ladder of you, I realize that it is all a dream I can only see with my eyes and my room door closed. I can give myself to you within these closed confines of my manor which, for lack of a better word, screams dark loneliness. You destroyed me by allowing me to think of you in this lewd manner.

Despite my upbringing, I never thought any less of myself for my homosexual tendencies towards you. For so long, I've hidden my feelings for you quite well because after everything is over and done, you've yet to know that I need you like I needed you back then during our Hogwarts days. If only you knew...

If you did, I haven't the faintest idea what you'd do. Since you're a Gryffindor, you might pity me and offer some of you to me. Then again, you might ignore me completely and I would not have the satisfaction of glimpsing you even for a fraction of second when you go out or roam about in your house with your windows open and curtains resting on its either sides to let the neighborhood air in. It's been five months and to my luck, you haven't still found out that I've been stalking you. Unhealthy, I know but necessary for my famished heart and body.

Once, I saw you and the Weaselette dance sensuously in your living room to some muggle tune I'd - never in the life of me - recognize. I watched intently as your hand dropped lazily to rest on her bottom. Right then, I wanted nothing more than to take her place. It pained me like Hell yet I stood there in the dark with a clenched body and watched you play with the ends of her long flowing ginger hair.

'My hair's short,' I thought to myself and haven't cut it since.

It's been four months since the incident and my hair is flowing too, albeit way shorter than your girlfriend's.

There was another time when you were in white boxer shorts - I learned the name from my research on muggles so that I could get to know what you're doing in your muggle house - and a shirt larger than life and you were drinking some concoction from a Panda shaped mug and swaying your lithe hips to a very melodic tune. I never quite learned of muggle music but I loved how you loved the music I never heard. Your legs are everything I imagined - taut and hairy from the bottom of your knees. Nothing like mine because I shave them clean of any pesky intruders. I wanted to ring your doorbell and tell you my feelings then. I was tempted to. Yet the presence of your girlfriend who appeared beside you out of nowhere deterred me and killed my sapling of confidence.

My manor is devoid of human presence, save for a couple of elves who survived the war. I cannot face them. I've been knocked off my high horse harshly and now, I can face no living thing that talks to me. I have no friends anymore. Not all of them are dead but they are recovering from the war, just like I am, and I know for a fact that none of us - not even the ones on your side - will ever go back to what we were once before you-know-who tampered with our tranquil lives and scarred them once and for all.

Now I'm here again standing in the very same alley, right across your home, that has become my surveillance spot for the past few months, observing you for the umpteenth time since the war ended two years ago and my parents left the country. I fill my lonely days standing here staring at you. You satiate my hunger and I wish I did the same for you. But, it is a wish that will never take form, not in this life. I light a cigarette - an obscene art I learned from a friendly muggle outside the bookstore that is located on the next street. It's calming, the drag and as I exhale the fumes, I see you embossed in their translucence. I pull on the bud again, a bit harder and it leaves me dizzy from the inside. This is how it must be for your girlfriend as she drags you into her slowly. I wish I could drag you in too.

'Look at me?' I ask futilely.

You won't hear me but if you do, come to me. I will take anything of yours. Your hatred even. I see you pick up the landline. See? I'm familiar with muggles and their devices and made a few acquaintances too! You can't believe it, can you? The Gryffindor in you will not accept the change of my heart. It isn't hard to love something the love of your life loves, is it? I'm being too melodramatic, which isn't like me.

Done with my first bud, I put a new one between my slightly blackened lips. It's only for a second that I look down at my lighter and then when I look back up, you are staring straight into my eyes. I feel disoriented for a moment and it isn't because of the cigarette this time.

I know for sure that even in this twilight, even in this impending darkness, your green eyes are looking right into my grey ones through your stupid round yet entirely adorable glasses.

Terrified beyond my sane wits, I quietly and coolly step back into the alley, allowing the mild darkness to take over my form. I hit something, maybe the wall but the structure isn't quite right or sturdy enough to be a wall. Maybe it's a corpse hanging in the air. Merlin knows that creepy insane people die in alleys - their bodies left to rot, oftentimes becoming a meal for stray omnivorous dogs.

I pull on my cigarette to calm my nerves and turn around, my right hand close to my wand in case of an emergency. What I see, or rather, who I see in that moment is someone who I thought, and still think, was unreachable. Under the slowly darkening sky, I graze my eyes over your face, the one I so long to touch and feel beneath my fingers. I see you standing in your same pale blue larger than life shirt with a brown teddy face in the center and white boxer shorts that hardly reach your mid-thigh. My cigarette drops to the ground, forgotten.

"Malfoy," your voice sounds stern and surprised at the same time. Your green eyes, despite the darkness dancing about us in the alley, are glaring at me.

"Potter," your name echoes out of my mouth for the first time in years.

End.

Thank you for reading and for your time!

~ Wheezy