Disclaimer: Harry Potter and etc, belong to the lovely J.K. Rowling. If I could only see into her mind for a day – the wonders I would see! (Jin is mine. I suppose Darren is too.)
Warnings: Non-magic, AU, Language, OOC, MALE ON MALE RELATIONSHIP(S)!!! I warned you, don't bitch to me.
A Lover's Passion – Chapter Two
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Harry Potter sat in a different coffee shop, at a different 10 AM on a different day. He hadn't shown up at the original coffee shop and the original 10 AM on the original day he was to meet with his sort of friend and teacher, Draco Malfoy.
He'd been… scared. More like terrified of what the other man would think of him. That night, when he'd finally gotten home and actually had a chance to think, that afternoon's 'fling' had hit him hard. Darren was no longer there, having finished moving his things while Harry had been out, leaving his keys on the end table by the door.
Harry picked them up, staring at them in the palm of his hand before clenching his fingers around them. Tears of sorrow and regret starting to fall from his bright green eyes, he dropped them back to the table and made his way into the kitchen. It was silent and empty here too, void of the usual presence there to greet him when he came in late, with supper already started on the stove.
A tear made its solitary path down his cheek, drying before it reached his chin. He'd miss Darren. He always missed them after they left. He had an intense fear of being alone, which led him to have several lovers and boyfriends over the past seven years since he'd been out of school and on his own. He always needed to have someone with him, or near to him. He jumped wildly into relationships, going on dates with whoever asked him first, and sleeping with them as soon as possible, so he wouldn't lose their interest.
Contrary to that, he was actually still fairly quiet, and kept to himself, the confidence he'd commanded at school having slipped away some time ago. He could sometimes be seen frequenting bars and clubs of a mellow atmosphere. His good looks and innocent charms won him the attention of several men whenever he went. And he always went home with someone, whether he was back the next night or not. He tried to make the relationships last as long as possible, hoping each time he'd found someone to be with for the rest of time; and each time he was sorely proved wrong.
Darren had actually lasted a year. An amazing feat for anyone who dated Harry Potter. Many soon found him to be too clingy and needful of their attention, or too distant for their liking. He had periods when he was both; he would be clingy and needy with one lover, yet distant and emotional when he found a new one. Whether this was because he was still getting over the last one or because he had other things on his mind – or other people – those relationships ended sooner than others.
He'd been fairly happy with Darren though. They'd been the same age (Harry had a personal rule not to date anyone three years older or younger than himself), and had gotten along well when they first met, actually at a shop, not a bar, when Darren had bumped into him quite literally and sent the new art supplies in Harry's arms tumbling.
With a flustered apology, Darren had helped him pick the things up, and then invited him for coffee – if he wasn't too busy. Harry wasn't, and they bonded over the over priced beverages, and made an official date for the coming Saturday. Harry had been excited. He hadn't felt this way about someone in a long time! He anxiously awaited the date, and when it happened, it had been one of the best of his life. They both had enjoyed themselves immensely, and at the end, Harry was ready for – and wanting – more, but Darren had only smiled, kissed him lightly on the lips and wished him good night.
Harry had stood, fingers brushing his lips, for a full five minutes after Darren had left him at his front door, grinning like a fool.
That happiness and fluttery feelings had continued for another couple of weeks before they slept together, and a month after that, Darren was moving in with Harry at Harry's request, so that they could "be closer to each other."
Some where, he wasn't exactly sure where, that happy fluttery feeling had faded. He was still in love with Darren of course, he couldn't not be. But he wasn't as happy as he had been in the beginning. The relationship scale tilted, and it wasn't easy to hide. He was becoming more and more distant towards the other man, hiding himself away for hours on end in his makeshift studio, and perfecting the techniques he'd learned in his new classes and honing his natural talent. When he wasn't drawing, he'd just sit and stare out the window, jumping or shaking him off if Darren disturbed him with a light touch or kiss.
Needless to say, Darren wasn't exactly happy about this either. He had his own needs and wants that had to be fulfilled, and as this was no longer an equal relationship, it wasn't equal give and take; it was only him giving and Harry taking. There is only so much of this one can take before they can stand it no longer.
This led to the consequent break up and Darren leaving for his friend's place until he found his own again. Harry had tried to continue his day as usual, but it turned into one of those days that just pile one small frustrating thing on top of another. Eventually, it led him to being late for his art class and having to pose for the day's sketch as his punishment.
Which led to…other…things.
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As it had been mentioned before, the full force of that afternoon hadn't hit him until he stood in his kitchen, crying over his latest lost lover. He was trying to remember Darren and the better times they'd had together, but it kept getting blurred with images of Draco above him. He shuddered as the tears came harder now. He didn't know what he had been thinking. Except that he hadn't been thinking, and it had been absolutely wonderful.
But he didn't want Draco! Whatever Draco thought they might possibly have, wasn't, and wouldn't be. It was just a – a rebound, yes that's right, a rebound from the breakup and the awful day he'd had. Something to make him feel better. He couldn't go meet Draco tomorrow! It would be wrong; leading him on as if this was something that Harry wanted. They were only decent friends now, since the last year of school, not especially close, but someone he still talked to occasionally from his past. They couldn't go from that to lovers like that! It wasn't possible.
And so, the next morning when Harry's alarm rang bright and early for him to get up and get ready, he ignored it, slamming the snooze button quickly and flipping the off switch before rolling to his other side.
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Three days later, Harry found himself standing hesitantly outside of Draco's studio door. He didn't want to see the other man, after having stood him up the other morning. But, he also didn't want to give up his art classes. He'd tried hard to find someone decent to learn from, and when he'd learned his old classmate taught lessons to a group every so often, he'd jumped at the chance.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, he opened the door, and managed to get through his class without too many incidents. If Draco had been surprised to actually see him there, he'd hid it well. At one point, while he'd been walking around the class, Draco had brushed against him, murmuring into his ear, making it seem as if he was giving artistic direction, not inquiring as to his whereabouts the other day. He insisted Harry see him after the class.
Unfortunately for Draco, Harry had no intention of sticking around to discuss anything. He was packed up and out the door the second Draco declared the class over. He felt childish doing so, but he didn't wish to hurt Draco by telling him what he'd discovered – that it had only been a rebound, nothing more. It hurt him enough, to think that he could loose a friend over this. Sure, they weren't especially close, but Harry still cared a little what became of their friendship.
Later that night, Harry was jerked out of his sedated mind frame that came with watching television, as the phone rang. He picked it up, only to hear Draco Malfoy's voice on the other end. The blonde told him plainly that they had to meet and talk about what had happened, because it was not just going to go away if they ignored it. Harry sighed, and finally agreed to be there, mostly out of guilt from not being there the first time, and now having Draco chase after him. He had to promise a million different times that he would actually show up though. They set a time and a place, and another two days later, there he was, a week from when this all started.
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Draco sat down at the table, bringing Harry out of his reverie. He was fifteen minutes late, not that Harry had noticed, because of a student requiring his attention that morning. Not even thinking it the least peculiar that someone needed his help before ten in the morning, Harry smiled weakly, his nervousness apparent.
"Sorry again," Draco said after having ordered an espresso from the waitress who'd come by.
"S'alright. Figured something had come up." Harry replied, nodding his thanks as the girl set down his refill.
"Is that what happened with you last week? Something come up so you couldn't even call?" Draco asked, re-arranging the creamer and sugar packets.
Harry shrugged as he took a sip from his cup. "Not exactly. Just thought it was a bad idea."
Draco looked up sharply. "A bad idea? Do you not take what happened in the studio seriously?"
Harry gazed at him, "No. I just realized it was nothing more than a rebound. I was upset, you comforted me, and we both walked away happy for at least that afternoon."
Draco looked at him. He couldn't believe that it was Harry Potter saying this so calmly to him. "And if it was more to me? What then Harry?"
"I don't know what you want; but I'm not interested in taking this any further. I'd rather remain your friend. If that's what we were before that."
Draco frowned. "Of course we were. Things might have changed since the end of school, but I probably wouldn't have made it through that last year if it weren't for you. God, Harry, do you ever think of anyone besides yourself?! What if I really liked you, and wanted more than to be a rebound fuck? What then Harry?"
Harry looked up at him, a little confused, a little hurt, and very guilty that Draco was being hurt further. "I'm sorry Draco, but there's nothing there."
The blond's frowned deepened. "I felt something. You might not have, but I know I felt a spark, a tiny one, as we lay together and our passion was melded together. You said so yourself."
Harry stared at the table as he spoke, before looking sadly up at him. "Things said in the heat of the moment aren't necessarily true."
"You can't lie about passion." Draco said, standing from the table. He took out money for his drink, and laid it on the table. "We could at least try to see what would happen." He leaned over then, and softly, bitter sweetly, kissed Harry on the lips, before stepping out into London traffic.
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