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 Seven

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Harry sat there blankly for a while after Draco had made his hasty departure. He knew he kept saying that he didn't want anything romantic to do with the blond, but with kisses as hot and as addictive as that… he was sure not to keep his promise long.

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Draco cursed himself a million times in the car on the way back to his studio; slamming both the car and studio door, because it made him feel a tiny bit better. He stormed in, cursing and muttering to himself, before he stopped in the middle of the dark floor, only illuminated by the light coming in the many windows from the light of the surrounding buildings. He grasped his hair, as if he hoped to pull it all out at once, and let out a loud, frustrated yell.

"FUCK!" He hit himself in the head.

"Fuck fuck fuck! I never should have… I have to respect him…he's not just going to let me in that easy! DAMNIT!" The angry blond raged. He picked up the thing closest to him – an empty easel – and flung it across the room, where it hit the wall with a definitive CRACK!

Draco sagged to his knees. He couldn't help it. He was in love with Harry. Completely and totally entranced by him. That beautiful smile he'd worn earlier; the way his brilliant green eyes lit up with laughter at his imitations at the river; the way they flashed with happy amusement at his old friends, glad they had come. It was all that Draco could think about. He couldn't get it out of his mind. The eyes and smile a deadly combination that left him aching late at night when he wished Harry lay next to him. Thoughts like that were pushed away often, as his mind made it seem as if he only wanted Harry for sex – and he didn't. There was way more to it than that.

Those green green eyes! So pure and clear, thoughts and expressions easily seen there… they were so beautiful, yet so mysterious. As if there was always something they weren't quite telling you, even as they told you plenty.

Standing up quickly, he raced to flick on the warehouse lights. It wasn't the natural light he preferred to work in, but it would do for now. He located his easel and canvas, and then searched for his paints. Grabbing every shade and mixture of green he had. Taking them all and spilling the tubes onto the table beside the easel. The rest of the colours he'd need at some point were at his feet, some falling out onto the floor and knocked over in his rush, the container that held them, now freeing them.

Free. If only he were free to do this. He could paint all he wanted, but would he get the colour right? Would the expression be okay? Would Harry mind when he discovered what they really meant? Draco only wanted to be free to stare into the gorgeous depths of those eyes for eternity.

And even then it wouldn't be long enough… not with Harry… Draco thought as his brush stroked quickly over the canvas, greens blending together as they formed the most unique and beautiful colour in the world. Every comparison was mediocre to Draco, and so his mind no longer dwelled on what it could be compared to as he fell deeper and deeper in to the snare of his imagination and what he wanted to be reality.

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Harry found himself somewhat torn the next day as he got ready for his art class. On the one hand, he was reluctant due to what had happened the night before. On the other, he was eager to go. He wanted to see Draco again, to know that it hadn't been made up out of his tired mind. Both pulled him in opposite directions, and he wasn't sure which would be best.

An odd contradiction in itself, since he was being so stubborn on all fronts. He absolutely refused to date Draco, or do anything with him… but he was beginning to wonder if that was such a good idea. Maybe… he'd be doing himself more harm than good by not letting Draco in; giving him what he wanted. It wasn't like he didn't want it too. He just… after so long of doing things wrong, he wanted to do something right. And if that meant that he had to wait around until the right man came around, and not sleeping with Draco Malfoy, then that's what he'd do.

But what if Draco was the one he was fated to be with?

With this new thought in mind, he made his way to the studio for his lesson with the complex blond.

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Draco's newest painting found itself resting on the easel in his beloved well lit back room, although it faced away from the sun, so it wouldn't be ruined before it was barely dried. The artist himself, however, was passed out on his bed after staying up until dawn began to streak the sky outside his many windows, pink, purple, orange and yellow. At the lightest arrival of these new colours, he was pulled from the dark of his canvas, proclaiming it perfect.

A hastily written sign, after the first two students had banged on his door, told those that came that the lesson for the day was cancelled. As such, that was what greeted Harry when he went to open the door to the studio.

Cancelled? But he was fine yesterday! Oh… he must be upset about what he did…Harry thought, as he tried the door anyways. Locked, as he expected. Frowning now at this obstacle, he raised his hand and gave it a few solid thumps, knowing that these old warehouse doors muffled more than they amplified.

"Draco!" Bang bang bang!

Luckily – for whom, it's not known – Draco was up and about briefly, and answered Harry's banging.

"What on earth do you want?! Can't you read?" He yelled angrily before actually realizing who it was on the other side of the door.

Harry, also not noticing that the door was now open, missed hitting Draco, literally stopping his hand inches from the perfect face. "Sorry." Harry said, truly meaning it as he took in the blonde's rumpled angry appearance. "I didn't realize… I was just checking…"

"Spit it out Potter!"

I was just checking on you, since you were fine yesterday…" He trailed off, looking a little uncertain of his actions now.

"Odd; wouldn't have expected you to care. I was up most of the night painting. Class is cancelled because I don't have the energy to deal with half-assed art forms and stupid students today!"

Harry fair gaped at the other man. Of course he cared! When hadn't he?! "I-I'm sorry?"

"As you should be!" Draco proclaimed. After all, it had been his eyes he'd been trying to capture all night.

"Look, I know this might not be the best time, but how about you go get dressed, and we'll have coffee. Or lunch, since it's nearly noon."

Draco opened his mouth as a thousand sharp retorts flew to his tongue, but he paused. He really wasn't that angry. Just a little grumpy since he hadn't gotten much sleep. In fact, he was rather surprised that Harry was here at all, and not at home, angry about what had happened earlier in the night. Finally, he nodded. "Come in."

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Harry followed Draco back to the extra rooms that Draco had added to the old building and served as a living area. The back wall of the studio hid the rooms, and there wasn't much to see after that. Harry stopped in the living room, the first room that they encountered, since he figured there really wasn't any other place to go.

He was right; the living room was next to the bedroom, and across the very small hallway was the kitchen and bathroom. Behind that was the beloved storage/work room. Not much too look at all, but it served its purpose. Draco disappeared into his bedroom, and the sounds of his muffled searching were heard, interrupted a few minutes later by a loud 'thunk'.

"Ow! What the hell?! Shit that hurt!" Harry heard Draco curse. Curious as to what could cause him harm in his own closet, Harry followed the sound of irritated mutterings.

"Draco?" He asked, finding him scowling at the closet doors, and rubbing his left arm.

Draco looked up, the scowl now holding a bit of a pout. "I tripped on my leather pants, and whacked my arm on the door." He explained in a petulant whine.

"Your pants…?" Harry looked to the lump on the floor and then reached over to pick it up. It was a pair of black leather pants that even not on a person looked decidedly tight and low slung to Harry.

"Yes, Potter, my pants. I didn't hang them up like normal, or they fell. Either way, that freaking hurt, and now I'll have a bright bruise on my flawless skin." Draco said; pouting even more. "Stupid pants. Jin made me buy them for when we go clubbing, and makes me wear them every time we go. And it's not like that's often." He glared at the offending pants.

Harry gaped at him, then the pants for a moment. It was clear the blonde was serious, hoping the pants might burst into flames for harming his poor delicate flesh the way he was glaring. He laughed a little.

"Well, with the way you were shouting, I thought it was something serious."

Draco hardened his glare and turned it on Harry. "It is serious! I'll have you know, that it still really hurts. And I will have a bruise to show for it tomorrow."

"All right; I believe you. You finish getting dressed, and I'll go make you some coffee. Maybe then you'll be in a better mood." Harry said, leaving the blonde to glare at his clothes.

He found the coffee rather easy in the large kitchen, and set about getting it ready for the disgruntled artist. While he waited for it to brew, he took a little look around. Draco may not have had many rooms, but the ones he had were large and spacious. Whether this was left over from enjoying that at the Manor, or because he just liked space for his creativity to flow freely, Harry didn't know; but it did make the old warehouse nicer.

Draco ambled in just as Harry was pouring the dark liquid into mugs for them. Fixing his the way he liked it, he took a tentative first sip against the burning heat and sighed.

Harry smirked. "Feeling better are we?"

"Shut up." Draco murmured, opening his dark gray eyes to send a weak glare his way. He took another sip which seemed to embolden him. "What are you still doing here anyways?"

"We were going to do something after class remember?"

"Of course I remember. But there was no class. So there is no 'after class' to speak of today. Shouldn't you be mad at me anyways?" Draco asked the last, not really thinking too much about it. Damn all nighters.

"Why would I be mad?" Harry had to think about this one. Was there…oh. That. "Oh. You mean when you kissed me. In all honesty, no, I'm not mad at you. I know… that you wish this could be more. But I've always given into things like that too soon. So, I need to sit back and wait a little longer for the feelings to develop. I don't hate you, I'm not mad at you, I care about you… but I'm just not sure how much I care about you. Whether it's as a friend or more. Is that okay with you? That we just hold off a little? I know, sometimes things get a bit messed up, and kisses happen, and I can deal with that. But for now, I don't want it going beyond that."

Draco nodded, getting what he said just a little bit more now that it had been fully explained to him. "Yeah. I'm okay with it. I just… I don't know. Maybe you're just too irresistible to me." He smirked.

Harry hit him lightly on the arm. "You just got carried away. Its okay, I could tell why. I may not have wanted it at the time, but I couldn't help but notice that it was hot and passionate." He smirked, knowing this would get Draco.

The blonde's jaw dropped. Harry laughed.

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Later, they went out, simply for a walk to get Draco back to himself. They ended up on a different part of the river, further down than the place Harry seemed to frequent. Draco had brought along his camera and captured the people lazing about on the river's edge, and the London scenery around them. It was also an excuse to occasionally capture Harry in the frame, for if he was looking away, he couldn't notice if Draco was taking shots of his profile. He did, however, manage to catch one glorious shot of his face, full on, his eyes sparkling from the sunlight and the laughter. Breathtaking. He'd have to develop that and see if he could capture it in paint later.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked; when Draco had taken yet another picture of him.

"Taking pictures. Some of the view, some of you."

"Why are you taking pictures of me?"

"Why not?"

Good question. Harry had been thinking why not? to a lot of things lately. Like why couldn't he be with Draco right now? He'd never waited before…

"Fine," he sighed. "Take pictures of whatever you want."

"Mmm. I think I will." Draco said, smugly smiling at him.

Harry just shook his head and turned away.

CLICK!

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Draco decided he wanted to develop the pictures himself that evening, after Harry had left. That had been a chore itself, seeing as he had to be reassured a half dozen times that Draco wouldn't stay up painting all night again.

He enlarged the only shot he had managed to get his full face in. All the other ones hadn't looked nearly as nice. He blew it up, so the crystal clear green eyes were larger than life, and would be easier to paint. He hoped.

In enlarging it and magnifying it, he noticed something. At first he thought there had been an odd smudge on the lens, and that had affected the picture, but then he looked closer, and realized that wasn't the case at all.

Draco had never noticed it before – he didn't know how he had missed it – but Harry had the faintest and palest of scars on his forehead. It was thin, shaped like a bolt of lightening. It was odd, and yet strangely appealing. It made Draco want to find out what other scars Harry was hiding on his body.

Despite his promise, Draco readied another canvas for painting that night, though he swore to himself as well, that he'd rather paint this one in the daylight that shone out of the portrait's eyes instead.

With another couple quick, feather light touches of his pencil, he set it down, and headed off for some much needed sleep. This time, his bare outlines showed the tiny marks of a scar on the subject's head.

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