Here you are again! I'll start off by thanking all the guests that left comments, since I always forget to do that. Thank you SO much for taking the time to leave a comment, even though you don't have an account here!

A thank you to all the other reviewers as well, and I want to thank you for all the favorites and followers as well.

There you have it. Enjoy this chapter c:

Chapter 9
Back and forth

A goal is not always meant to be reached, it often serves simply as something to aim at.

- Bruce Lee

Harry entered the coffee house, once again amazed by the changes the place had undergone in the past three weeks. Four weeks ago, Harry had seen the old building for the first time, and he'd instantly fallen in love with it. Gradually, the reason why he'd loved the place was starting to show. The large window was cleaned, the front door was repainted in emerald green. Inside, the walls were painted celadon, and the old wooden bars had a raw umber color. The floor wasn't finished yet, but the tiles were in the storeroom and had a tan color.

The tables and chairs would soon be ordered, and Harry already had the designs for it. Along the window, there would be a row of comfortable tabourets, with a forest green seat. The support had to have the same color as the wooden bars that supported the entire building. At the bar, there would be seven high barstools, also with forest green colored seats. On the other hand, the chairs in the middle would have the same brown support, but the seats had to be asparagus, creating harmony between the celadon walls and the other forest green seats. The design of the chair would resemble that of an egg chair, but in a more compact form. The tables would be square, made from the same wood as the rest of the furniture. Against the walls, there would be a row of comfortable sofa's, in asparagus as well.

Harry had it all figured out. Of course, there was still a lot to do. The appliances at the bar still had to be ordered and installed, the lighting still needed to be done, and after that, everything needed its finishing touch. So far, Harry had enjoyed the entire process. His workers were exceptionally cooperative, and his interior designer loved every idea Harry had offered. George was very enthusiastic all the way. As a whole, the project was very exciting.

His first week of training to get his business management degree had gone by very quickly. Nevertheless, Harry was glad it was Friday, because multitasking was very hard to do, and he was exhausted. Anyhow, the workers would be back tomorrow, because that was the only day they could work while Harry was at home. Up until now, they had followed Harry's instruction very well, but for the finishing parts, they preferred him around, because there were so many questions to ask.

He scratched his back upon entering his living room, looking around happily. He was doing fine on his own. Okay, the kitchen was a little messy, and his laundry still needed to be done, but apart from that, Harry could say he managed well. He sat down in the sofa, and was about to turn on the television when all of a sudden his fireplace lit up. Harry was scared out of his wits, and then a pointy face appeared in the flames.

"Malfoy! Merlin, you frightened me!" Harry exclaimed, getting up from the couch again and walking to his fireplace. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to call you. In case you don't remember, it's been two weeks since you've last seen me, and tomorrow's supposed to be our eighth appointment, but you missed out on two."

"I know I did. I told you I didn't have anything left to say."

"Well, I think you do. I'm expecting you tomorrow, and if you're not there, I'm coming to get you in person, Potter," Malfoy's eyes gleamed threateningly. Harry just rolled his eyes.

"I don't need a therapist anymore. I don't miss Ginny at all – well, I do miss her, but more as a friend than as a wife – anyway, everything's fine, so leave me alone." Harry knew that this wasn't very close to the truth, but he was just trying to get Malfoy to leave.

"It's not fine. Mrs. Potter still wants to see me, so you're obliged to come as long as you're not divorced."

"You're making that up," Harry bit, squeezing his eyes shut.

"She asked for you, Potter. The least you could do is keeping your promise. You promised her to keep coming, and to update her on your life and how you feel without her. This way, you can get back together afterwards." Harry just stared at the blonde, feeling cornered and angry at the same time.

"I'm really busy right now, Malfoy. I just don't have time for that shit."

"Just a newsflash, Potter. It's that shit that got you this place, so have a little respect for my profession, will you." Malfoy's eyes shot fire, adding up to the flames licking the edges of his face.

"Alright, alright. Can't we make it on Sunday? I need to be around here tomorrow, the workers need me."

"I don't work on Sunday's either, Potter." Malfoy had a vicious tug around his mouth.

"Well, make it an exception. If you want to see me, it'll be Sunday, end of discussion." Harry crossed his arms, showing with his body language that he wasn't changing his mind.

"Fine," Malfoy said. "But then we'll have to do it at your place."

"Whatever you want, Malfoy."

"Good. I'll see you on Sunday at ten o'clock."

"Fine." Harry grumbled. They shared a last look before the fire died out. Harry sat back in the couch, turning on the TV with the remote. However, his thoughts soon trailed off, thinking about the man whose face he'd just seen in the flames. Why was he so persistent? He didn't care about his marriage with Ginny right? The git must be doing it for the money.

Harry rolled his eyes at the thought, wanting to kick Malfoy in the face desperately. He immediately wanted to go tell Ron about Malfoy's annoying rant, but he realized he couldn't. He hadn't spoken to his best friend since their last fight. The past two weeks, Harry had turned to George and Hermione, avoiding a confrontation with the other Redhead. Hermione had assured him everything would be alright in the end, but being in the middle of a serious fight at the moment, Harry didn't see the bright side of the situation. Honestly, he just wanted his friend back.


It was Saturday evening, and Harry had been out flying his broom to get his thoughts in the right order. He passed by Ron and Hermione's house, mounting of his broom before knocking on the door. Hermione would be home, the only question was whether Ron would be there. He could be in the pub, but then again, he could as well be home.

Hermione opened the door. A smile appeared on her face when she saw who was visiting, and she quickly stepped back and opened the door further to let him in. "Hi, Harry. Come in," she greeted, her chocolate eyes giving him a warm embrace.

Harry entered, with the broomstick in his hands. "Hi, 'Mione. I was around, so I thought I'd stop by."

"It's great to see you. How was your training?" The woman immediately questioned, leading him through the hall into the living room.

"Good. It went well. It's not very difficult, you know. The classmates are full of life and inspiration, it's really fun so far. I'm looking forward to starting my business," Harry replied, thinking about the past week. It was by far the best week since he graduated Hogwarts. Being back in school, doing something he liked was a huge step forward, and helped improving Harry's mood.

"I'm happy you took the risk, Harry. I can see you're enjoying it to its fullest. Be quiet, though, the kids are already in bed. If they hear you, they'll be bouncing down the stairs immediately." Hermione walked into the kitchen, fetching them something to drink.

"Oh," Harry said, lowering his voice a little. He sat down in the sofa, looking around. "Is Ron here?" he then asked hesitantly.

"No, don't worry. He's probably in the Leaky Cauldron. I don't think he'll be long though. He's been invited by some colleagues from the Ministry because of his promotion." She returned with two glasses of lemonade, placing them down on two coasters that appeared with a swing of her wand.

"He's been promoted? That's the first thing I hear about it." Hermione sat down next to Harry in the sofa, a worried frown rippling her forehead.

"Yeah, he got the promotion on Friday," Hermione replied, shifting in her chair uncomfortably. That was the last day Harry had been working. It was normal for the Ministry to promote someone new as Headauror, since they really needed one.

"That's quick. I'm happy for him. And for you as well, 'Mione. It's great. Maybe he'll lighten up a bit. At least that's one good thing that resulted from me leaving Ginny."

"Talking about her, she manages quite alright. I stopped by the Grimmauld place. She's a bit more cheerful. She's still very sad, but she's getting there." Hermione gave Harry a reassuring smile, knowing that the man didn't feel good about hurting his wife.

"So you think she'll come around too?" Harry's voice was filled with hopefulness.

"Of course she will, Harry. Everyone does in the end. She just needs time, just like you needed time to be able to make this decision. I can tell you did the right thing. You're beaming with happiness. I missed that about you, Harry. I was too blind to see you were suffocating in your life. I'm sorry for being so cross-grained at first." Hermione looked down at her feet, a guilty shadow falling over her face.

"Don't be. It made me question my choices. However, I'm glad you agree with all of this now. It's good not to be alone." The smile returned on her face.

"Did you see Malfoy?" At this, Harry rolled his eyes.

"No, but I spoke to him yesterday. He insisted on making an appointment. We're meeting tomorrow." Harry tried to show his annoyance with the whole situation.

"Where did you meet him?"

"He called me at home. He scared me big time, appearing in my fireplace like that. I think it's rude that he's barging in like that."

"You made a promise, Harry," Hermione reprimanded wisely.

"I know, that's what he said. I'll go," Harry sighed. He must've known that would be Hermione's reaction. She wasn't Ron after all. From time to time, Harry needed the occasion to exaggerate about something, but Hermione always saw things in their rightful way. Her logical mind didn't prejudge or blow things out of proportions.

"Good," Hermione smiled. Harry returned the smile, finishing his lemonade in one draught. He got up, apologizingly waving at his female best friend.

"I'm off again. I don't want to barge into Ron this late. It might wake the kids."

"Yeah, you're right," his curly haired friend replied, while leading him to the door. Harry hugged the woman and turned around, still feeling like there was something missing. It had been good to talk to Hermione. It always felt good to talk to her. It wasn't the conversation that had been insufficient. It was something else. A certain redhaired man with a freckled face.


On Sunday, Harry got up early in the morning. He still had a lot of work to do before Malfoy came. Harry would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't nervous for the man's visit. He cleaned up his living room with the simple spell Tergeo, tidied up his bedroom and scourgified the kitchen. He put the laundry in the washing machine – another one of the Muggle thing in Harry's place – and sent some tools downstairs with Wingardium Leviosa. After cleaning up, Harry decided to take a long hot shower.

He took off his clothes in the bathroom, facing the shower. Then, like a lightning bolt, a memory hit him. Draco Malfoy. Naked. In this very bathroom. Harry could feel how his blood started to circulate through his body. He tensed up, dropping his boxers with a pained expression on his face. Why did this always happen to him? He blinked, and each time his eyes closed, he saw the porcelain skin, the small curve in the blonde's back before his eyes reached his buttocks. It was small in comparison to Ginny's behind, and the shape was completely different. Still thinking about Malfoy's bum, Harry stepped under the shower.

He could use a cold shower right now, but Harry didn't feel like paining himself with a jet of icy water, so he wetted himself with nice, hot water. The water jet massaged his neck muscles and Harry let out a relaxed moan. He looked at his feet while the water did its work as another thought came floating in his mind. Harry hadn't seen the man entirely naked, he'd been facing the shower. Still, he could imagine very vividly what the front side would look like, surrounded with blonde, curly hair. Harry frowned at his own train of thoughts. He didn't know why he imagined the man with blonde hair down below, but he remembered how blonde Malfoy's pubic hair had been in his dream. His hot dream.

Shocked, he opened his eyes again, still facing his feet. He curled his toes, his thoughts still twirling around Malfoy. He remembered looking at his feet while telling Malfoy all about his sex life. He'd slowly become aroused, and was hoping the former Death Eater wouldn't notice. Malfoy, on the other hand had been very professional. He hadn't laughed because Harry wasn't getting laid. – Wait a minute. Was that the reason why Malfoy had undressed in front of him? To tease him because his wife didn't fulfill his needs? Harry shook his head to stop his mind from trailing off. He needed to focus on right now. Malfoy would be here in an hour.

Malfoy. Why had the man such a strange effect on him? The last time he was at Harry's place, they'd shared a strange hug. The embrace had been intimate, almost too intimate to share with someone who was only supposed to be your therapist. Or enemy. Confusion trickled in Harry's mind as drops of water fell off his nose. Harry grabbed the soap and started to lather himself with steady movements. He hesitated upon reaching his penis.

He had an erection. Again. Why was he so damn horny all the time? His libido hadn't been high in nine years, why did he have a lust for sex now that his wife was out of the picture? To be honest, Harry had never been a sexual person. He rarely satisfied himself, but at this very moment, Harry couldn't resist. His hands caressed the skin of his erection, a pleasurable wave spreading from his abdomen. He leaned against the tiled wall, eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face. Soon, he sped up the pace, small noises coming from the back of his throat.

Harry thought about slender fingers touching his skin. The surprisingly warm hands would caress his arms, make their way across his chest as a hot breath would whisper his name in his ear. "Potter" Harry moaned deeply, the slender fingers reaching his pubic hair.

"That's about where we left off, isn't it Potter?" Harry could feel how a pair of feet stood next to him, long toes touching his own. He could feel the warm body holding him tight, and wanted to bury his face in the crook of the blonde man's neck. Harry was reaching the edge. He panted heavily. His vision blurred. His muscles contracted when he had his orgasm. Grey eyes were burned on his retina, and the euphoric release slowly faded away. Adrenalin left his body, and suddenly Harry became aware of his surroundings again.

He was alone. A dull glow died out his bright green eyes, and he quickly cleaned himself up. Damn. He shouldn't have done it. Now Harry felt even worse. He turned off the tab and dried himself off, trying to be as quick as he could. His skin was still sensitive, and the weird sensation that it gave off upon being touched annoyed him. He needed to get out of the hot room.

He exited the bathroom, marching into the living room. Harry sat down in the couch, crossed his arms and started sulking. Malfoy would be here in a couple of minutes. How could he possibly face the bloody therapist after this? Why had Harry lost himself completely? He should've known his mind would've returned to the blonde. Harry felt guilty for fantasizing about having sex with Malfoy. It had happened several times now. In his dreams, with Ginny, with himself. However, the fact that the comforting feeling he thought he had in the shower wasn't real affected him more than the fact that it was Malfoy who gave it to him.

Two short knocks pulled Harry out of his reverie. The tall blonde was standing in his living room, in front of the fireplace. Harry had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't even heard the man entering. There was a small grin on the Ice Prince's face and he stepped closer to offer his hand.

Harry shook it, palm touching palm for a second too long and then Malfoy sat down in the couch, three feet away from Harry. Harry's eyes followed the slender fingers. His heart started to speed up, observing how Malfoy folded his hands. He positioned himself so that he was facing the Boy Who Lived. When the former Slytherin spoke, Harry's eyes shot up and met with two orbs of molten silver.

"So, I'm not happy that you left me hanging last week." Malfoy's pink lips formed the words, and as he spoke a small part of his white teeth was visible. Harry kept staring at his face, retorting instantly.

"I told you already that I don't see the point in coming." Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. He crossed his long legs, his right foot – concealed in black designer shoes – pointing at Harry.

"I thought you wanted to save your marriage?" Malfoy's voice was friendly, his walls of professionalism pulled up. It annoyed Harry, but right now, it didn't make him angry like it had before.

"You told me yourself that once a married couple separates, it's very unlikely for them to get back together," Harry replied, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. The annoyance quickly made place for something else. The last thing he wanted was to become aroused in front of this very man again, right after finishing himself off in the shower.

"Yes, I did. But I didn't say it was impossible, right?" Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh Merlin. I'm happy right now. Why can't anyone tell the difference?"

"I can tell the difference, Potter. But you made a promise to your wife, so you have to keep seeing me, just to make sure you did everything you could. I can tell you had your share of the life with Ginny. But still, there are some questions I'd like to ask you."

"Shoot." Harry crossed his arms, preparing for the competition. He offered the sneaky Slytherin a challenging look.

"First of all, have you completed the assignment I gave you?" Malfoy didn't seem to notice Harry's fighting spirit and reached in his suitcase. He got out his – surprise, surprise – notebook and a self-writing quill.

"No. Next question."

"Not so fast, Potter. I realize I'm in your area right now, but that doesn't mean you get to lead the conversation, do you understand?" The tone of authority caught Harry off guard.

"Whatever," he replied grumpily. He felt like a four-year-old that had just gotten a talking-to.

"Why haven't you tried to write down the differences?" Malfoy's voice remained calm and friendly.

"I'm not a writer. I can as well tell them right now, can't I?" Harry huffed.

"Okay. Instead of being cross-grained, go ahead and inform me." A small smile uplifted the corners of his mouth, a mischievous expression in his eyes.

"Don't you want anything to drink?" Harry offered, avoiding the question. It would give him some extra time to compose the answer in his mind.

"I'd love a glass of lemonade, thank you." Malfoy nodded courteously.

"I'll go get that," Harry said with a curt nod and made a movement to get up from the couch. He froze in the middle when Malfoy gave a barking laugh.

"Why don't you just make it appear magically, Potter. Aren't you a wizard?" Malfoy mocked. Harry's head turned as red as a tomato and he quickly conjured two glasses of lemonade.

"Tell me," Malfoy urged, as if they hadn't been interrupted. He bent forward to grab his glass and took a sip. Harry watched his Adam's apple go up and down, then replied.

"I don't miss her. I'm very busy, you know, with the constructions here and my training, I don't think about Ginny at all." Harry felt proud for being able to say that, although he didn't know why he felt that way. Maybe he wanted to impress Malfoy, by proving that he really didn't need Ginny. Or maybe he just wanted to point out that it wasn't his fault the marriage hadn't worked out.

"But when everything's gone quiet, doesn't your mind start to wonder? Don't you ever feel lonely?" Doubt made its way to Harry's heart. At first he wanted to curse Malfoy for asking such sensitive and difficult questions, then he just stared at his own glass of lemonade, trying to get his mind in the right order.

"Yeah, well-" Harry hesitated. "At night, I sometimes feel lonely. But that doesn't necessarily mean I miss Ginny. I just miss the company, that's all. Having a roommate would solve that problem." Although Harry wasn't very certain he'd answered correctly, it was something he knew for sure. He didn't miss Ginny's company. He'd hated to be around her in the last couple of months, and if he would say that he missed her he would be lying. However, saying he didn't miss her at all was a lie too. A small part of him missed the former Ginny. The girl she used to be.

"Good. When do you think you'll talk to your wife again?"

"I hope not anytime soon. I'm still enjoying life as a single man." Harry knew that meeting Ginny would only be more confusion. If only talking about it made his heart restless, imagine what talking to her in person would do.

"You're still married, Potter," Malfoy noted dryly.

"Merlin, Malfoy. I totally forgot about that! Thanks for reminding me," Harry replied sarcastically, glaring at the man. A smile crossed Malfoy's lips, which sent a shiver down Harry's spine, immediately causing a mood swing, sarcasm making place for enjoyment. "Did you talk to Ginny already?" Harry asked when the pleasant wave died away.

"Yes, I did. I told you that Friday, Potter." Malfoy glared at the Survivor, a glimpse of disbelief in his eyes, then continued: " She's doing great. She just wants you to keep coming to, so that there's still something connecting the two of you."

"This ring still does," Harry grunted, not happy that the entire conversation was revolving around Ginny again. What had he expected? That once he lived alone he'd never hear a word about her anymore? Had he thought Malfoy would have talked about the two of them? About their embrace? Harry sighed, confused green eyes meeting grey ones.

"Does that bother you? The fact that you're still married?" Malfoy's pen kept writing without assistance of Malfoy's hands whatsoever. It vaguely reminded Harry of Rita Skeeter and her poison pen all those years ago. He could still smell the mixture of the muggy broom cupboard and Rita Skeeter's perfume, back in his fourth year at Hogwarts. She had succeeded of translating all his er's and ehm's into a heartbreaking story. It had enraged Harry to read about the romantic relationship with Hermione and the tears appearing in his eyes whenever his parents were mentioned. Harry shook his head to get out of his reverie, focusing back on Malfoy's question.

"Yes and no. It's not that I want to divorce, you know. I just don't see why we still need to be married. We're not in love anymore. However, I'm not planning on marrying ever again." Harry's reply sounded very resolute, and more certain than he felt about it inside.

"So, are you already deciding to divorce her or not?"

"I don't know, Malfoy. The only thing I know for sure right now is that I don't want to go back to Grimmauld Place, not for a million Galleons."

"Good. The good news is, Mrs. Potter doesn't want you to move in either. She's enjoying her free time, and even though she feels a bit lonely, she's found the time to catch up with old friends."

"Like Hermione?" Harry questioned cynically.

"No, I said old friends, Potter. She's been in touch with Granger all her life. I'm talking about other Gryffindorks." The news startled Harry a little, his head shooting up attentively.

"Like who? Did she tell you the names?"

"Why are you so curious all of a sudden, Potter? It doesn't concern you, now does it?" Malfoy put his finger on the sore spot. However, Harry wasn't about to be fobbed off.

"In for a penny, in for a pound Malfoy. Say it."

"Brown and Thomas," Malfoy confessed. Harry stared at the wall, thinking about Ginny catching up with his former friends. He didn't know how he felt about that, but a pinch of jealousy made his heart squeeze. Malfoy seemed to notice.

"Does that affect you, Potter? Does it sound strange to you that she's moving on?"

"She's just catching up with friends, Malfoy. She's a grown woman, allowed to do whatever she pleases."

"So you say. But how do you feel about it?" Harry looked up at the man. He had never known Malfoy could be that smart. He resembled Hermione a lot, always knowing the right thing to ask or say.

"It's difficult. It's like – I don't know. I just didn't expect her to contact her old friends. Especially not Dean. She used to date him back at Hogwarts." Harry threw his hands in the air. He leaned forward to grab the glass of lemonade, and took his first sip.

"I can tell you're not happy about it, Potter. You tensed."

"I'm fine. I don't care what she does. I just want us to stay friends." Harry knew he was acting like a child. Only moments ago he'd assured his therapist that he didn't want to see the woman. Now he was trying to convince himself as well as Malfoy that he wanted to befriend his wife. He wasn't making any sense.

"Why haven't you contacted her, then?"

"I don't know. It's not just not that easy, Malfoy. I'm her husband. I can't be her friend." Harry frowned at the thought, not sure if that was exactly how he felt. He didn't know how to describe the confusing mingling of feelings in his heart and looked around his room desperately. "I think I'll crawl back to her once I see her," he then confessed.

Malfoy pulled up his eyebrows in surprise. "You just said you didn't miss her," he frowned. I know I said that," Harry thought fervently, his face scrunching up in thought. Why did it bother him that Ginny was talking to old friends? Harry had to admit it did bother him right now. When there came no reply, Malfoy spoke again.

"I can see you're very confused, Potter. Maybe it's time to make your mind up. You're positive you don't want to be with Mrs. Potter, right?" Harry nodded. "Good. You came here to have a new start, and you wanted your marriage to be part of the things you gave up on, even though it wasn't exactly necessary to do that to be able to start your business, right?" Again, Harry nodded, feeling like an idiot. "That leaves us with one last thing. When you said you wanted to take a break, did you say that to not hurt Mrs. Potter's feelings, or because you actually meant it?"

Harry shrugged, looking around the room yet again for help. Malfoy filtered out the right question to ask, and Harry knew he couldn't reply to the question.

"That's where the shoe pinches, isn't it Potter? This week, I need you to make a decision for yourself. You don't have to answer that question right now, you just need to find out if you still have feelings for your wife, hidden in your heart."

"What if I do?" Harry's eyes looked at the former Death Eater pleadingly.

"Then you'll have to face them. You can't ignore your own feelings, Potter."

"Didn't I make the wrong decision? What if I can't have her back?"

"You didn't make the wrong decision, Potter. If you hadn't left her, you'd still be annoyed by her presence and the anger you feel inside would overpower the small amount of love you still have for her. Try to face these emotions. Find out how you exactly feel. Then we'll go from there on."

"Okay," Harry replied hesitantly. Malfoy put away his notepad and the quill. He got up, finished his lemonade and then turned to Harry again.

"Thanks for having me, Potter. I expect you to be at the office next Saturday. If not, I'll come and get you."

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," Harry replied, getting up as well. He stood in front of the man, feeling awkward, not knowing how to strike an attitude. A warming feeling overtook him, reminding him yet again of the intense embrace they shared last time. Malfoy held out his hand, and Harry offered his stiffly. The slender fingers fit around his palm perfectly, and the warm hand felt nice against his.

Their hands remained locked, both men momentarily lost in each other's eyes. Harry quickly realized he was holding on to the taller man's hand longer than was necessary and let go, as if he was stung by it.

"I'll see you on Saturday. Don't forget, Potter," Malfoy saluted while stepping into Harry's fireplace.

"Malfoy's Manor," he shouted. Green flames rose and engulfed Malfoy's entire body. He started rotating and then he disappeared. Harry frowned at the mention of the Manor. Would Malfoy still live there? He could be visiting his parents as well. Harry settled for the last thought and returned to the couch, sitting down in his spot. The place where Malfoy had been seated was still dented. Harry tried to resist the urge, but then he leant forward burying his nose in the nubuck sofa. His olfactory organ was welcomed by the delicious fragrance of masculinity, almond and vanilla. Harry could feel his body tingle from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, and slowly became aroused while breathing in the scent.

Embarrassed by his own body, Harry ceased his actions and fled into the kitchen. Slowly, Harry's blood slowed down, and he cursed himself inwardly for letting himself go. Why was he acting so strange around Malfoy? Mafloy of all people. Merlin, he was going mental!

He sat down at the kitchen table and looked around. It was as clean as it could get. He'd cleaned the living room as well, and since the builders would be back tomorrow, it was no use cleaning downstairs. Harry sighed. With Malfoy and the workers gone, he started to feel lonely.

"But when everything's gone quiet, doesn't your mind start to wonder? Don't you ever feel lonely?" He heard Malfoy's soft voice in his head. His emerald orbs filled with tears, as despair washed over him. He buried his face in his hands on the kitchen table and let out a loud sob. "I'm happy right now. Why can't anyone tell the difference?!"

Harry wondered who it was that he was trying to fool. Ginny? Malfoy? His friends?

Or himself?

To be continued…