This chapter is dedicated to That-Fresh-Rain-Smell For reviewing, praising and giving me a smile.

2.1

Harry Potter was distraught. He was in a fit of depression, that made him want to sit when he stood- a sort of aching pine that would make him mewl with frustration- and stand when he sat. When he tried to occupy his mind with something, everything else fell down and broke and he couldn't concentrate. If he tried to read, nothing would engage him, and even though he was dousing himself in an unread copy of Orwell's Animal Farm he couldn't seem to relate to the characters. It was hell.

Almost bursting into unshed tears, Harry looked around his living room for something –anything- that would save him from this mess. He was a total fool, and Merlin had blessed him, some would say, with being able to get away with it. However he was not so sound of mind with that pseudo-fact as he would have liked to be. He wanted punishment, yet he wouldn't accept or respect the mental battle going between his ears.

Harry Potter had been a bad, bad boy. He had been seeing two people who had subsequently found out and astonishingly neither had much cared seeing as how smitten they were with him.

But it wasn't the fact that they had found out, or that he had two-timed two lovely people. It was the fact he had used them to cover his complete embarrassment with that horrible blind date he had been forced to go on with Draco Malfoy all that time ago. He really hadn't gotten over it yet.

'You're an idiot, Harry. You are a complete fool.' He said to himself, his hand tapping his chin lazily. I'm bored, he thought. Yet he looked around the room and found nothing between the colours that resided there, that would hook his attention for longer than the angsty trouble would.

The first boyfriend he was playing was a smart, tidy man some years older than Harry. He was a professor at Colith's Majestic University; a new establishment south of London. The University majored in Magical Science and Emil Aatos, Harry's boyfriend, was the head of the department for the experimental sciences. Emil stood at six foot three, with soft blonde hair and creamy brown eyes. Everything about him was stoic and rather complete; a fact that annoyed the twenty something Harry as he wasn't quite finished with his life as of yet.

The second boyfriend was a barman at Harry's local. He too was a Wizard, but not a very good one in terms of being able to summon the most simple of objects. And anything more complex than that troubled him to no end. But Harry had adored him, in some way, from the moment he had laid eyes on him. His name: Mercury. It sounds rather romantic, and it did to Harry too, until he found out the real name of his lover was Augustan Crossstop. For all intents and purposes he went by Mercury, which reflected the deep silver within his blue eyes. He was Harry's height- five foot nine- with brown hair that fell down to his shoulders in waves.

Mercury didn't spoil Harry like Emil did, but he did drive Harry crazy into passion unlike Emil, who was a soft, sweet and patient lover. Of most aspects of each boyfriend, and in all respects to this, Harry felt safe and wanted. He didn't feel needy or imperfect, but quite the opposite.

As Harry thought about all of this, he began to see the loose justification of what he had been doing to both men. How could he justify his actions because of a couple of dates that left him embarrassed and somewhat worried for his life? He couldn't, because things like that happened to everyone, but it didn't mean you left morals to pursue a life of deceit and lies. Yet, he had.

2.2

Harry moved from the small coffee shop in high agitation. He had been waiting for Hermione for over an hour, and after three strong double cappuccinos he was abuzz with fire. This added to the irritation he had felt the previous day over his stupid two timing affairs with Emil and Mercury. His anger transferred onto Hermione and as he stormed towards her house in the district of Chiswick, he began to think about every little thing the woman had done to annoy him in the past.

Her house was like many fairly modern London houses, tall and fairly thin. It stood on four floors, and the interior was extremely homely. It was filled with the browns of book bindings and oak coffee tables; the smell of rich coffee beans filled Harry's nose every time he entered.

Knocking on the door and waiting, Harry felt his anger deplete. He fought to arouse it, however when Hermione opened the door, somewhat dishevelled, he paused with his fury and looked at her quizzically. Something was amiss.

"Harry…" She greeted, semi warm but mostly confused. It was then that her eyes widened in remembrance, "Oh! I'm sorry Harry, something came up!" Harry cocked an eyebrow and turned his head, in time to see the slow, uncomfortable movements of Draco coming around the corner from Hermione's living room.

Draco looked slightly relieved and amused, and involuntarily Harry smiled. "Draco." He addressed politely, his flirtatious attitude coming to life with the sight of such a devilishly good looking man.

Draco turned to the reddened Hermione and smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to take Harry for a walk, I'll shall see you soon?" Hermione nodded and smiled regretfully at Harry who looked dumbfounded at his choices being made for him. He was still fired up from the coffee's earlier, and was quite ready for a fight.

Draco took Harry out the door and set off side by side down towards the local common. It was chilly outside and Harry shivered suddenly causing the blonde man beside him to laugh. A child, somewhere in the distance, was crying loudly and it made Draco think sombrely. "Do you want children Harry?" He asked softly, looking down to the brunette with curious, blazing blue eyes.

"Yeah, someday, I guess. Do you?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

"Harry," Draco started after they had walked some, past the shrieking children and into a rather secluded area of the common. "I was wondering whether…" Draco paused and looked around the trees to a proper structure to his sentencing.

The time, ticking on like it loves to do, caused Harry to get rather irritated with the blonde. As much attraction as was felt towards Draco- an attraction that spanned a good part of ten years- he was still highly irate by the performance that came about from his dates with Draco.

If he was in a better mood, Harry might have been able to bring himself to talk about it. As it was, he wasn't, and so he egged Draco on into speaking with a drawled out "Yes?"

"Um, Well… I really like you Harry." Draco said with small amounts of conviction, to which he stood up straighter and pulled his shoulders back. "I know it's a little bit late for this, but I just wanted you to know."

Harry stood and thought. He cornered that sense of slight relief from his mental torture and hugged it tightly. "A little late?" He asked aghast. "After all those years… after all that time we fought? I think we over stretched the mark a whole yard, not just a couple of inches…"

"Yeah, but…"

"But nothing Draco." Harry looked up slightly saddened and turned to walk away. It took so much for Draco not to go after him; he had been chasing thoughts of Harry for a rather long time.

2.3

Harry walked alone home, the day coming into its last period and the sun glistened because of it all the more. He had been walking for some while, stopping to eat lunch and browse shop windows. He had even ventured enough to purchase a really beautiful cashmere coat, of grey so silver, in preparation for the winter months that were coming in fast.

When he got home he placed the coat in his wardrobe and sat in front of the television with idle mind. His telephone rang loudly in the kitchen, but he took no notice of its drone. I want peace, he thought to himself. And quietly he went to sleep, with peace he so wished for.