A/n: This is just a One-shot I created out of boredom one day, nothing special. But you can of course still review!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with the Harry Potter series.

A changing stone

I've never understood the meaning of love until the day I met you, well perhaps it wasn't love at first, but that's what it became.

I remember the first time I extended my hand to yours, thrusting it in your face the only way I knew how. It was the first day I realized that power, money, names and flawlessness wasn't everything and I hated your for showing it to me, teaching me with disgust in your voice and the dismissal of my hand. I hated you.

I vowed that one day I would achieve my goal and earn your friendship, so I proceeded to get your attention. But try as I may, I was less and less successful with each move I made; earning me not only lost trust, but fowl hatred in all directions.

I became obsessed

I threw sneer after sneer in your way, lacing it with fine out bursts of hurtful words, and layering each blow at not only you but your friends, your family, everything.

Then came the year everything changed, the year when, for the first time I saw horror, fear, tears, and death in your eyes.

The year that my father wore a mask of his own; the year I was bonded to darkness simply because of my last name.

The year Voldemort came back.

I will never forget your eyes that day as you lay on the ground beside the body of Cedric. I'll never forget your face or the way your arm bled with unholy nature.

Or how your scar was no longer faint, but a burning flame.

Your eyes lost their entire glow and your face began to create the mask I see now, and somehow even your eyes have lost there eternal essence, fourth year at Hogwarts was the first day I saw a part of you die.

But that was only the beginning.

First an innocent sneer,

The glow of emerald dies.

Second breaking words,

The glow of emerald dies.

No more Quidditch,

The glow of emerald dies.

Death,

The glow of Harry Potter's emerald eyes are but a corpse in a layered grave.

I hated you for your isolation from everyone.

No more do you hear my words or see my sneers,

How can dead eyes see, how can hollow ears hear?

It is the Sixth year now, two dreadful weeks in and only twice have I seen your broken face. Do you not eat? Does the word future not even live in your vocabulary? Where do you go? I ask myself these questions on a non-stop basis, my mind is a runaway fright train and my emotions are like wild fire.

I have no desire to indulge myself in the simple pleasures of food this evening, but I hastily grab a few buttered scones for reasons unknown; perhaps I will be famished in the later hours of the night.

It is not often my feet lead me to the lake, but it is where I head to now. A mild September wind bristles in my ashen hair, coloring my pastel cheeks. I never knew a light chuckle of air could be so calming. I take in my surroundings, though I have seen them a million times before, the pebbled path leading to the shore reminds me how grey and lonesome my life truly is. Then I look up, noticing now the closeness of the lake. It too, a murky grey, seeming so forlorn, not a ripple gracing the water. I look down again, the sight of such a friendless lake is much too depressing, not that the path is any better.

Hearing a faint cough not too far away, I look up and freeze in my tracks. I ask myself in this moment, do the Gods mock me for their own amusement or is it punishment for having a vile father and a foul last name? Either way, it does not matter. I sit on the log beside the figure, beside the being of my infinite desire.

Harry James Potter.

I hold my breath, waiting for your ghostly eyes to recognize me, or worse stare right through me as if I am but a mirage.

"Oh," you say softly. "I can leave if you like."

I don't know if I should dance or burst into tears, your voice is ever so comforting, and your words are so selfless, yet you think me to despise your very essence of life…

"No…stay," I whisper, for you leave me breathless for words.

You do not smile, but I am thankful you reside. Perhaps the Gods do not deride me on this nightfall. I watch how your once tanned face turns back toward the unknown infinity of the heavens, those jewel like orbs glossing over with sadness and longing.

Muttering up my courage, I ask, "would you like a scone?"

The look shoot my way is that of utter confusion, "don't worry I didn't poison them or anything, just thought you might be hungry considering you haven't eaten supper," I add.

You hesitate for a split second, and then politely accept the offered scone. Our hands brush, I can't help but melt inside.

"Even if you did poison them, it wouldn't matter, but thank you," is all you say, quickly taking a bite of the scone.

I follow your action, nibbling on my own. Turning to the lake again I finish with my first bite, suddenly feeling starved.

"Why wouldn't it matter?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of my mouth.

Shrugging your shoulders, you turn to me again, "I guess I just think there is a better adventure out there for me, beyond the horizon. So in that sense, it wouldn't really matter if I died. I'd be on a better voyage."

I gaze at you, drinking in this moment of our near proximity, your logic frightens me. "What about your adventure in this life? Why give up?"

The stare you give me now is one of wonder, then those crimson lips form an unruly frown. You turn away. I want to pull those lost eyes back to mine own, I feel so empty.

"You mean the journey, or the prophecy of my life, the one that this world expects me to fulfill because my forehead is branded with a lightening bolt scar. I am no white knight to the wizards of this world, only a simple pawn in this predictable game of chess," you say harshly, though I know, I'm not sure how, that your anger is not directed to me.

I am surprised by your words, perhaps more surprised by the fact that both you and I are having such a personal discussion.

"How is this game of chess, as you call it, predictable?" I whisper, not once do I drop my eyes from your form.

You turn to me, I hold my self back from touching that dispirited face, eyes, lips.

"If I defeat Voldemort," I shudder at the horrid name, "then soon I will be just another forgotten hero. People will live there lives, while I, sit lonesome by the fire and stare at my blood stained hands basking in the memories of the lost.

"Or, I am defeated and am forgotten as soon as the last rose drops atop my grave. And what will my last sight be before death takes me? It will be those eyes made from the fire of hell. And what will my last thought be? It will be of murder and all the disappointed faces of the people that claimed to love me. I am the-boy-who-lives-for-everyone-else.

"Do you see? My future is much like these pebbles, they are there, and they are used as gravel; yet how often are they remembered? Never, because why in Merlin's name would anyone want to think about a dull, hopeless, lonesome rock."

I laugh inside my thoughts at the irony of it all, it was only minutes ago, that I, myself, was thinking about these pebbles. I look down at the gravel, and smile despite myself.

"I was thinking, as I was walking on the path towards this lake, how depressing these rocks really are, how they much resemble my own life." I pick up a small, jagged rock, placing it gently in my palm. I bring my wand out and transfigure its lifeless color to a bright shade of emerald green. Looking up at your face again I say, "but, unlike this rock we are all gifted with choice and the ability to change. Ones destiny, journey or whatever you would like to call it, leads to another, whether it be death, love-"

The words on my tongue dry in my mouth at the sight that greets me, the one plastered innocently on your face.

You are smiling, your eyes… I see that glow in the midst of all your sadness and it is directed to me, for the first time ever, you, Harry, are smiling at me.

I watch you pick up a rock of your own, about the same size as the one in my hand. I see you pull out your wand, muttering a silent spell as the smooth pebble in your Seeker hands turn a brilliant, glowing shade of bluish silver.

Raising your hand beside mine, "like the color of your eyes," you declare softy just as your own orbs peer into my sparkling ones, searching my soul, my heart, and my mind.

I could die in this moment and still be the most content man on the earth. I feel so privileged to be allowed to see such glowing beauty, so thankful for being welcome in your presence.

I use my other hand to close your fingers around the transfigured pebbled, whispering as audible as I can in the growing wind, "so you always remember you have the aptitude to change your destiny and that I won't ever forget you."

Your smile grows, not once fading as the minutes pass. Then you close my lithe fingers around the emerald rock swelling in my palm, shuffling closer to my side of the log you exclaim, "So you never forget that your destiny is your own and only you can change it…and that I will forever remember you."

I feel my eyes begin to water, your very words engraved on each layer of my heart. You don't let go of my hand, though my body shivers and chills from the coming frost of fall, I do not flatter…you could hold my hand for eternity, in every season and never would it grow cold from your touch.

We stare back at each other and I know that everything has changed. It is a small and perhaps unnoticeable change to most people, but to you and me, we know. We know that our souls are no longer the grey, dull texture of these lonesome pebbles. We know that no matter our future, to each other neither will be forgotten. It is our secret, just yours and mine.

I feel you draw me closer with your strength and in some time-stopping moment your lips meet mine. Our eyes flutter closed and both, thought and reason, suddenly leave my body as I am embraced by your zealous touch. Teasing my lips with your tongue, I sense you asking for entrance and I comply as if on instinct. Our tongues mold together in a hungry dance, each exploring the texture and feel of spaces unknown. I wrap my arms around your neck, just as you pull me gently by my waist. I straddle you for better access to your divine mouth.

I press hard against your body, causing you to moan into the canvas of my entrance. The need for air becomes highly essential and we pull apart, but I lean my forehead against yours. Our swollen lips slightly ghosting over the others as we drink in the air. I drown in your eyes, just as you do mine till we finally notice that the sun has gone to sleep.

"Its late," you whisper.

Reluctantly, I pull myself off your lap and stand as best I can. My legs shaking lightly from both the cold and the realization that I am needed, needed by the one I have longed for. I help you to your feet and I watch you put the silver pebble deep in your rob pocket, I do the same.

You smile at me again and the truth of your happiness is like a shooting stare…I give you a smile of my own, probably laced with a dreamy gloss.

You take my hand and kiss me light on the lips. My stomach flutters with invisible butterflies. I tangle our chilled fingers together as we walk, side by side and hand in hand, up the pebbled path that once resembled out lives. For now, I don't dwell on the future; I am simply going to swim in this heavenly beauty of being loved in return, for why dwell on the future when you're already in the stairs?