A/N: Here I am again! I know this fic isn't very popular, but for those of you who are reading it, I really hope you like it!

This chapter is, so far, un-beta'd. I'll post the beta'd version up when I get back!

The Disclaimer from the prologue applies.

Chapter 3- Longing:

They were fifteen, and nothing seemed right anymore. The distanced friends sat in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by their housemates. Though the room was large and welcoming, it was crammed with people. Friday nights were always this way; people sat on the red couches and armchairs, decorated the floors and windowsills, and even each others laps. Today, the hero and his friends had claimed the overstuffed couch by the glowing fireplace as their own. Five people had managed to squeeze onto the piece of furniture, leaving the others to sit on the floor in front of him.

Unluckily for the hero, he had gotten a seat on the couch. He sat uncomfortably between his oldest friend, a boy with flaming red hair, and his Irish friend. The hero barely even spoke to the blonde anymore; their relationship had been deteriorating since the night of the Yule Ball.

The blonde looked like hell. His eyes, though still blue, were dull and lifeless, lacking the sparkle of youth that they had once possessed. Dark circles decorated the skin below his eyes, making his face look gaunt and thin. His lips were bleeding red and chapped; it was obvious that the blonde chewed on them. His eyes were yearningly fixed on the brunette beside him. The boy was close to him; because of the number of people on the couch, they were crammed like sardines. This was the closest they had been in months. He could feel the warmth of the boy's side as it pressed against him. He relished in it and wished fervently that it would never end.

The hero didn't look much better. Though he still wore a smile, it did not quite reach his eyes. Instead, the verdant orbs held an artificial twinkle of happiness; he was determined not to let his friends know that he was troubled. His nails were short and bloody, bitten down to the quick. He was still small in stature, and he had recently grown alarmingly thin; his ribs stuck out above the smooth paleness of his belly unattractively and the vertebrae of his spine could be counted as they trailed from his neck to his tailbone in a graceful arch. When the hero lifted his arms, his shirt rode up and his sharp hipbones jutted out harshly from the waistline of his trousers, creating the small hollow space that should have been a healthy, flat abdomen. For the first time in his life, the hero was grateful for the oversized clothes his uncle gave him.

The hero felt a set of knuckles brush softly against his hand where it lay on the couch and retracted his hand as thought it had been burned. He spared an accusatory glance to the boy next to him; the blonde offered him a timid smile of apology. Suddenly, the room felt stifled and cramped, and the brunette had to escape. He stood up abruptly, interrupting his bookish friend. She had been nattering on to the rest of the group about the importance of getting homework done in a timely fashion.

"Oi, mate, where you goin'?" The redhead's comment wasn't anger or spite, just a casual inquisition. For some reason, it made the brunette nervous.

"Nowhere. I just… I just need some air. I'll be back in a mo'."

The blonde saw his chance to talk to his friend and he seized it, quietly following the brunette out of the portrait hole without explanation. The hero didn't seem to detect his unwanted companion. The blonde followed him to the top floor of a tower near the Gryffindor dorms. The dark haired boy seated himself on the ledge of a window and studied the grounds before him. The darkness outside transformed the usually murky blue lake into a still pond of ebony. The grass of the fields surrounding it was also black in the night; it rippled with the wind, almost making the tiny blades appear as if they were also part of the lake. The hero breathed slowly and deeply. Nature had always comforted and calmed the boy, and now was no exception.

The closeness of his blonde haired friend just a minute ago came back to him and he closed his eyes. He hadn't left because he didn't enjoy the closeness, oh no, quite the opposite. He enjoyed it too much. Why, oh why, had his friend kissed him on that fateful night a year ago? The hero wished he hadn't; things would be so much easier now. The kiss had stirred feelings deep inside his chest. Now, they swirled inside his mind and flowed through his veins. His love was like the life-giving blood that circled through him; drip, drip, drip and he loved the boy more. It was a bitter joy and a sweet agony all at once; it surrounded him and plagued him like an addiction and the hero couldn't stop.

The Irish boy stood a few feet behind his friend, just watching the brunette. His love for the boy in front of him was uncontrollable and wild; he did not push it away, no, he cradled and nursed it and it grew and grew. His love was second nature to him now; he did not remember what it felt like not to love the hero. He needed his love like he needed air and water and food; it was his world and it was to him larger than the cosmos and the heavens.

"…Why have you been avoiding me?" The hero jumped and whirled around to face the boy behind him. His heart sped up, pumping more thick, red blood through his body- drip, drip, drip.

"I haven't been avoiding you. I just- I've just been busy. School's been getting harder and-" the blonde cut him off.

"Come on, we both know that's a lie. You've been avoiding me since… since… last year." He finished lamely.

"I know. Listen… I know what you want. And I want the same thing. But I can't. There are too many people counting on me to be the Boy-Who-Lived. I can't be gay. It just… it just doesn't work that way!" A spark of true emotion showed in the hero's eyes for the first time in what seemed like months.

"Yes you can! No one's going to do anything to you! You have too many friends who'd protect you! I'd protect you." The blonde's voice was pleading.

"I know you would. I'm sorry. I've been stupid. But… can we- can we really do this?" The question was timid and hopeful and tinged with fear.

"Yes… I'll do anything- anything- for you." He took a few steps forward and enclosed the small hero in his warm, protective arms. The brunette closed the distance between their mouths in a timid kiss, just as chaste and pure as their first. This time, though, there was no explosion of realization and fear; this time, he knew what he wanted and loved every second of it.

"Okay." The hero's whisper marked the beginning of something wonderful. His heart had slowed now. It pumped blood in a steady, healthy, rhythmic pulse, drip, drip, drip. This time, the hero welcomed the drip. He'd cradle and nurse it and let it grow and grow.