Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Starting Over (2/?)

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: If I owned them, things would be VERY different.

The next morning, Harry was rudely woken by the doorbell. He muttered a string of curses as he dragged himself to the door.

"Have fun last night?" Dean laughed after seeing a very sleepy, half naked Harry open the door, give him the finger, then stumble back as Oliver flung his arms about his slender waist. "Harry, it's four in the afternoon and you're just waking up?" Ginny asked, prying the boy off his father. "Well don't just stand there. Come in." He finally said, rubbing his eyes and picking a pair of black sweat pants off from the folded laundry. "He didn't give you a hard time, did he?" He asked the couple as he slid on his sweats. "He was a perfect angel." Ginny smiled as she led the boy into the tv room.

Harry didn't even bother trying to put on contacts and opted for his glasses instead. With a cup of coffee and a cottage cheese and lettuce sandwich in front of him, Harry watched Ginny interact with his child. "So, have fun last night?" He shrugged and took a bite of the sandwich. "I didn't get laid, if that's what you're asking." He said.

"I asked if you had fun, not if you got laid."

"Yes, I had fun."

"It's been what, three years since Oliver di- it's about time you had some fun. What time did you get in, anyway?" Harry shrugged. "2 maybe. Didn't sleep after that for a while." He muttered, washing the sandwich down with coffee. His mind wandered back to the evening before and the stranger he had met and he smiled. "I hate to ask, but, do you think you can watch him again tonight?" He asked, his eyes pleading with his friend. "Sure." Dean answered. Then it struck him.

"You have a date!" Harry's head hit the dining table.

"It's not a date."

"Yes, you do! You're smiling!" His former schoolmate laughed as the youngest Weasley came over to join them.

"You have a date?" Harry threw up his hands and stalked into his bedroom, sitting on his bed. He sensed she was going to say something and held up his hand to silence her.

"I know what you're going to say. It's been three years since Oliver died. You need to move on. Blah blah blah. I don't want to hear it." He ranted and threw himself back onto the mattress.

Outside, Oliver heard his father yelling and ran into Harry's room as quickly as his little feet could take him. Leaning over his father's face, the small child asked, "Why are you shouting?" He sat himself back up and pulled the boy onto his lap. "I'm frustrated, that's all." He sighed, ruffling Oliver's hair. "You miss daddy?" He asked softly. Harry glanced from his friends to his son before replying. "Yeah, I miss your daddy a lot."

"Harry, it's alright if you miss him from time to time but you should move on. Meet new people." Ginny said softly, sitting down next to her friend. "I know." He groaned, resting his chin on his son's head. "What's this I hear about a date? I take it you met someone, then." She asked. "There. Is. No. Date! And yes, I did meet someone." He answered, walking from the room, Oliver on his heels. "So what's the problem then?" Ginny called as Harry walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and took out a juice box, handing it to his son.

"He kissed me. Then I left."

"Why'd you leave?"

"Because I was scared. Because, not once last night did I think about HIM. I don't know, it just feels that I'm trying to replace him." He sighed. "Are you and Dean staying for dinner?" He added, opening a cabinet and realising he needed to go to the market for food. "We'll stay for dinner." She said hugging her friend, "You're not trying to replace him. Just because you didn't think about him last night doesn't mean you've forgotten about him... Do yourself a favour and take some risks. Now go take a shower." She pushed him off in the direction of the bathroom.



The light from the moon and the street lights reflected off his fair hair as he walked down the street. 'He's far too young. You have nothing in common, it'll never work out. How do you even know he's interested?' He thought as he entered the same club as the night before and took a seat at the bar.

The loud music pulsed in Harry's ears as he neared the bar, a smile spreading across his face as he spotted the blond at the bar. Taking Ginny's advice, Harry approached him and planted himself in the seat next to him ordering two apple martinis.

"James!" He smiled warmly, accepting the drink. "I wasn't expecting to see you here.. tonight." He watched as Harry finished off his drink and waited for the other man to finish his. He took Harry's hand in his and led him through the crowd to an empty space.

"You know my name, but I don't know yours." Harry said over the music as they began to dance. "Luc. My name is Luc." It never occurred to Harry that as the night progressed, the space between them seemed to be getting smaller and smaller 'til their bodies where grinding against each other, Luc's lips just few centimetres from his.

He didn't know whether it was him or Luc who initiated the kiss and frankly, the emerald-eyed young man couldn't care less. Harry lightly sucked on Luc's bottom lip, playfully pulling on it with his teeth. He felt a soft, slender hand reach up and brush his fringe off to the side and a finger trace over his scar but paid no attention to the gesture. It was all over when they pulled away, both their breathing slightly laboured. A light flashed into Luc's eyes and Harry noticed they were grey, not blue like he had originally thought. He knew this man seemed familiar and now he knew why. There were only two people he knew with those grey eyes; one he had gone to school with, and the other was standing before him.

Lucius was hadn't expected such a calm reaction from Harry but that didn't mean it hurt any less. He watched for a full minute as Harry took off before following him. Once outside on the street, Lucius spotted him walking across the street and called out to him. "Harry, wait." He half- pleaded after catching up with him.

"I have nothing to say to you, mister Malfoy." Lucius cringed at the tone of his voice.

"Why did you give me your father's name yesterday?"

Harry stopped and turned around. "I don't know. Why are you following me? And aren't you married?"

"She died the last week of the war."

"Gee, I'm so sorry to hear that." He snarled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He stopped in front of his car and got in, leaving Lucius standing there, watching his car disappear down the road.



Lucius apparated home and trudged up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom to sulk. Instead, he decided he would shower then he would sulk. "He hates you." He muttered to himself, trying not to think about Harry. It was becoming increasingly hard to ignore the effect he had on the elder Malfoy. That night, he dreamt about his raven-haired Adonis and the kiss they shared. He could still feel the young man's lips pressed firmly against his; the way he moved as they danced.

When he awoke the next morning, he groaned at the sticky, wet spot in his pyjama bottoms and mumbled something about having to get the house elves to change the sheets again. After a shower and quick breakfast, Lucius left for the day, dressed in plain black chinos and a navy blue turtleneck.



Harry was positively livid by the time he got home. He stomped up the front steps, unlocked the front door, marched directly into his small office, and took a squat-looking, crystal decanter and matching glass from the fourth shelf. 'You're angry because you actually enjoyed kissing Lucius Malfoy, aren't you?' A little voice from inside his head asked. "Shut up! I did not like it." He found himself saying out loud. 'Yes, you did. If you didn't, then why can't you stop thinking about it?' the little voice added. "I'm not thinking about it and I am most certainly not talking to myself!" he shouted, swallowing a fourth of the glass of scotch and slamming the glass on the desk.

The top drawer of the desk squeaked as he opened it and withdrew a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Slumping down in the cushy chair, he threw his feet up onto a stack of papers on the desk and lit a cigarette. "Despicable, arrogant, lousy, good for nothing son of a fucking bitch." He mumbled, taking a long drag then ashed the cigarette in a nearby ashtray. Harry still wasn't sure how he didn't recognise him. Then again, he didn't see him all the time. Sure, they worked together at the ministry but they were in different departments. He worked in Magical Law Enforcement as an Auror and he had no idea what Lucius' job was but he did know that he was a high ranking Ministry official. Harry knocked back the rest of the drink and poured himself another glass. One hour, half a pack of cigarettes and seven glasses of scotch later, Harry was passed out at his desk.

"Harry? Harry? Are you home?" called someone down the hall. He was still fast asleep when Ginny, Hermione, and Molly found him where he had fallen asleep just a few hours before with a cigarette butt in his hand.

Hermione closed the decanter and placed it back on the shelf next to the others and washed the glass out in the adjoined bathroom. Molly took care of waking Harry. His mouth felt as if several small, furry animals took a piss and slept in his mouth. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and smoke and his thought his head was being split open.

"What the fuck?" He managed to get out before running to the bathroom. He came out and went to a small box on his book shelf and took out a little vile. He gave the potion a few minutes to start taking affect before turning to meet the disapproving gaze of the three women.

"Where's Oliver?" He asked, noticing that they were missing a very small person.

"Dean and Ron have him." Hermione responded.

"What'd I do?"

"What if your son had been home while you were drunk?" Molly tried not to yell at the young man she thought of as one of her own.

"But he wasn't."

"It doesn't matter. It was still irresponsible and Harry, dear, you drink too much."

"I don't have to take this!" He said, leaving the room, Molly hot on his heels as he went into the kitchen to make coffee.

"You need to stop drinking and smoking so much. You haven't been like this since.."

"Since Oliver died. I know. So, what, I'm not entitled to a drink every so often?"

"You must have drunk well over half a bottle. What got you so upset that you needed to drink that much?"

"It's nothing." He said, measuring out scoops of coffee grinds. He took an egg from the refrigerator and bread from the wooden breadbox on the counter.

"Bill and Charlie are coming to visit next Sunday. You should come for dinner." Molly said taking the coffee out to the table along with some mugs. Harry's response was muffled by the food in his mouth so he nodded his head just to make sure Molly got what he was saying.



It wasn't that Harry was dreading going to work the next morning, he just didn't was any run-ins with Malfoy, either of them. "Come on." He sighed as they left to drop Oliver off with Molly before Harry went to work.

Walking over to his desk, Harry saw the small pile of paperwork he had left on his desk Friday, was now a large mound of paperwork. Not even a half hour after he arrived, a note sailed in and landed in front of him. He opened the note and groaned.

Harry-
I need to talk to you.
L.M.

He crumpled the note and threw it in the waste bin and prayed that more wouldn't follow.

It was after 8 when Harry decided to go home. Of the remaining pile of work, Harry took half, put it in his satchel and said goodnight to those in his department still working and left for the Burrow to pick up Oliver.



"I'm going to go take a shower." He told Oliver when they returned home. He plopped the little boy onto the couch and turned on the television. "Did grandma Molly feed you already?" He nodded as Harry walked away.

He placed a pair or boxers and sweatpants next to the towel sitting on the bathroom counter. Through the small window above the shower, he saw that it had started raining. "Shit." He muttered as he washed quickly and shook some of the water from his shoulder length hair. There was a flash of lightning and Harry forgot all about drying himself off and put his sweat pants on just as Oliver started banging on the door, crying.

Harry picked up the crying child and carried him into the kitchen. The rain was starting to pick up and was raining onto the window sill above the sink then ran around the house, shutting the rest of the windows in the two-story house. He shuffled back into the kitchen and took a bowl of shrimp salad from the fridge. Oliver's crying had just started to subside when he was startled by a clap of thunder and started crying again. Putting his dinner aside (and making a mental note to go food shopping), Harry tried to calm the frightened boy. He dabbed Oliver's runny nose and tears with a napkin.

The doorbell rang. "Are you going to be okay if I go answer the door?" Oliver hiccupped and nodded as he sucked his thumb. He patted him on the head and walked to the door. It was close to 10pm, who would be paying him a visit at this time?

He opened the door. "Lucius."