CHAPTER TWO

The abominable beam of August sun sprayed between the loose hanging white tapestries and washed across the queen sized bed, where a small lump was groaning and shifting unwilling to open his burning eyes to the light of the day. He was swallowed underneath his silver and black satin coverlets, not even his jet-black hair could be seen until he regretfully poked his head out for some air, his eyes felt as if they were bleeding, and his head ached with a hangover from all the shots and cocktails he had drowned himself in last night at the ball.

The more he thought about the damn formal, the more he thought about the man who had been at his side. He turned over onto his back with a look of utter confusion splashing across his features. He remembered everything; the talk, the gestures, and the way he touched a man he was supposed to despise. Then - he had just broken down right in front of the former Slytherin. He found himself rising up from the bed, the covers dropped to his lap revealing his slender but toned chest. His black hair was falling messily over his shoulders, and his eyes were unfocused.

He rubbed his eyes, and ran his fingers through his tangly hair. He regretfully crawled out of the bed and leaned over the window and out into the muggle street below. The Potter's were a wealthy family, but they lived in a normal suburban house. They even owned several properties along with a family manor, but his mother didn't want that lifestyle for her son. She wanted him to grow up in the muggle and magical world. So, the manor was put aside for the time being, except for the occasional holidays they took. Their house sat off the road unlike most of the suburban homes. There was also a black gate wrapping around and it was shaded in a couple beautiful willow trees. There house while modern and had a few muggle features, it was also the largest house on the street.

With only boxers on he padded over to his wardrobe, he sifted through them ignoring the pounding that vibrated along his skull. The bathroom was directly across from Harry's large bedroom. He poked his head out, to make sure no one was standing around and then raced across the hall. The room was a sparkling sea foam green. Harry dropped his clothes onto the counter, and stared at himself in the mirror. Boy, he looked a sight.

His green eyes were squinted slightly, due to the pain that was caused by the bloody red lines along the whites of his eyes. His hair was everywhere and he looked as though he had just come out of a rock concert. He didn't look at all like his usual graceful self.

He pulled the shower curtain and door aside and turned the taps on and then dropped his boxers and slipped in as soon as the steam began to escape into the main part of the bathroom. The hot water splashed along his pale skin immediately burning and reddening his entire body. The steam enveloped Harry's body completely as he kept his eyes closed and allowed his body to take the punishment of the spitting hot shower.

He didn't know how long he had stayed in there, but it was long enough for him to sink down to the tub, bring his knees to his chest, and press his forehead against his knees. He thought about more than just last night. It had been the first time he'd broken down since he read the papers. He had been humiliated more than any other time in his young life. The paper had written some nice things and some nasty things, but nothing compared to the blow he received when the prophet had come out that morning.

It wasn't so much of the fact that Roger had been untrue; it was more of the way he found out. It was the way he felt used and betrayed. That type of betrayal cut deep, because Harry had been intimate with him on a level that should have meant something, but no, apparently it didn't mean a damn thing to the guy who decided that fame was more important than his boyfriend's feelings.

Harry had remained strong when he read it, and he even wrote it off a bald face lie until his godfather pointed out all the photographs with Roger Davies and various males that he was in the company of. Ulgh, it was the most degrading and pitiful form of humiliation.

He sighed heavily, when a loud knock broke him of his thoughts, "Harry!? Are you in there, honey?" called his mother's concerned voice. "You've been in there for an hour."

Harry raised his head, "Nearly done." called the teen, his voice showing no sign of the turmoil he was feeling.

"Okay, honey, take your time. I was just concerned."

Harry stood back up and washed his hair again before flipping the taps and leaving just the steam billowing about the bathroom. The fog steamed the windows and all the mirrors and you could hardly see to make your way to the counter in which Harry's clothes resided upon.

When he walked out of the foggy bathroom he was dressed and looking much more graceful than he had been going in. He was wearing leather boot cut trousers with ruby gems going up and down the side and then around his waist like a belt would. He was also wearing a matching ruby red button up that was as shiny as the gems on his trousers. His hair was down and he had a phoenix earring dangling from his right ear. He was wearing black dragon hide boots that made him about two inches taller than his original height.

He met his father outside, who laughed and waved his hand, "Wow, Harry, how do you not smother in the bathroom?" asked James, looking at the steam that was pouring out of the open door.

"Therapy." Was his remark and then he pointed his finger to his hair, "Care to dry it?"

James tapped his son's head, "I hope you're still not brooding over the stupid newspaper are you?" asked James, "I would have thought you'd been used to it by now."

"Well, you would too if the world knew about your life before you did."

"Oh Harry, it can't be that bad." James waved off. "You're just too sensitive. You have to live a little, just laugh it off!"

Harry rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. There was no point in trying to point out to his father, that his life was on display for the whole world to see. He had tried many times and only ever got a laugh and then a wink. His father didn't seem to be able to handle negative issues in any other way but laughing at them. It was easy to laugh when the papers weren't talking about themselves.

Then again, James had never been subjected to the torture of the newspapers like Harry had.

The teen just shook his head and went off downstairs, his father not giving it any thought that he might be in pain.

"Morning Harry!" said Lily, sitting in at the table with her leg curled up under her. She was still wearing pyjamas and her red hair was as messy as Harry's had been when he woke. She was sipping at her cup that had more sugar than coffee. "Sit sweetie, I made your favourite muffins!"

Harry smiled and sat down next to his mother, who was a bit more sympathetic and understanding toward him than his father was, who seemed to be all about fun and games and never anything of a serious or concerned matter. "Thanks mum." He eyed the newspaper warily, that was face down on the table next to his mother.

"Don't worry, love, I've already scoured the whole thing. The only remark they made was how gorgeous you looked." said Lily, kissing him on the cheek.

"Of course he looked gorgeous! He looks like me." called James bounding over and taking a seat across from his wife and son.

"Oh please, I don't have the hair you have." stated Harry, and he was thankful.

"You used too." said James, messing his hair up playfully for the affect.

Lily rolled her eyes, and Harry just stared at his father, who to this day was still a show off.

Harry's mother combed her fingers through his hair, "Yes, but now, it lays flat and full. Very attractive,"

Harry blushed, and shook his head, "Enough," He murmured. "Where's Moony and Padfoot?" He had hoped by asking this question it would divert anymore remarks.

"He is with Kingsley; they are still working on the assignment they were given last week." James told his son, "And Moony, well, he's still trying to get used to his new job. He never believed it, when I told him that I was working on Fudge and his restrictions against werewolves."

"I got a letter from Rem, telling me about the bookshop in Diagon Alley. I might go check it out later." said Harry, nibbling on the strawberry muffins, his mother made.

"He'd love that Harry." said James. "I'd go in there - but then I'd be expected to buy a book - and read it." He shook his head looking mortified, "What's the logic of that?" he asked, scratching his head.

"Maybe you need to brush up on your reading skills." scowled Lily. She threw a muffin at him and it hit his shoulder.

He laughed and gave her a mock pout. "Ouch!" he exaggerated, touching his shoulder, and trying to give his best, hurt puppy face.

"Like, that really hurt, you big ol' baby." teased Lily, with a shake of her head.

Harry laughed and poured some orange juice. He had to agree with his mother on the whole brushing up on the reading skills. Maybe if he brushed them up, he'd realize just why Harry took the papers so personal.

As his thoughts began to sway back to the paper, his head drooped slightly. James didn't notice, but Lily was giving him an empathetic look. She rubbed his sagging shoulders, and insisted that he eat up before going off to Diagon Alley.

"Are you going to meet Ron and Hermione, Harry?" asked Lily trying to brighten her son up.

James looked up, "You haven't spoken to them for days now."

"I think I will be going off by myself." insisted Harry, "I don't need Ron punching the first person who gives me a pitiful look or Hermione yelling at Ron for causing a public scene." He shrugged a shoulder, "I'm better off alone right now."

"I don't know why, Harry. Being alone pretty much bites." said James, "Although, I wouldn't really know, never been dumped."

Harry felt his heart restrict and the pain gurgled up his throat. His eyes were burning once again, as his father flashed him an ignorant smile. Lily's eyes however narrowed.

"You really know how to open your mouth, don't you?" snapped Lily, her voice biting.

"What?" asked James, looking from Lily to Harry. "What did I say? Well, I haven't been dumped, and anyway, it's not like you were serious about this guy-"

"How would you know?" This came from Lily instead of Harry. "How would you know how serious their relationship was, when you never asked?"

"Oh, please, Lily he's sixteen."

"Seventeen." corrected Harry and Lily at the same time.

James held up his hands, "Same difference! He's a kid, a serious relationship-pu-leassse." drawled James, with a smarmy smile.

"Would you please, stop talking about me, like I'm not in the room." Harry's retorted coldly.

Lily gave her son an apologetic look, while James looked unabashed, "Well, you weren't serious, were you?" He asked, his son directly.

Harry stared at his father; he didn't want to answer these stupid questions. He just wanted to forget about it. "I don't want to talk about it." He said, shortly. "In fact - I don't want to talk about anything to do with newspapers, relationships, or anything associated with either of those, thank you very much." He snapped. "I want it to be over with, and not talked about again. I don't want hear, his name, or hear anything more!" He stood, scooting his chair back, and avoided his mother who reached out to him. His father was surprised at Harry's abrupt outbreak. It was unusual for him.

"What did I say?" asked James with confusion. He looked to his glaring wife and shrugged helplessly.

Harry was about to head for the stairs when the bell chimed through the house, signalling that someone was at the front door.

"I wonder if it's more of those little muggle girls in uniforms with them yummy peanut butter cookies." said James jumping up. "Last time I bought the whole lot-"

Lily sighed and turned to her son, as James disappeared, "Harry, honey? I'm sorry; your father is as ignorant as he's always been."

Harry shrugged, "I'll get over it. I just - I need time."

"I know baby." She held out her arms, "Give me a hug,"

Laughing weakly, Harry wrapped his arms around his mother's small frame. "Thank you mum."

A moment later, James stumbled back into the room looking both disgruntled and perplexed. Harry looked at him but before he could ask if the 'little sweet girls' had asked him to multiply numbers again, he spoke. "Harry?" He murmured, looking at him. "Lucius Malfoy is here to see you…" he trailed off pointedly, obviously waiting for Harry to explain.

Harry, though, blinked in surprise and leaned away from his mother's touch. Had he heard that right? Lucius Malfoy? What in Merlin's name did he want? The rush of memories from the night before flooded his mind again, and this time he couldn't stop himself from cringing openly. The blood rushed to his face when he remembered the fact that he'd broken down and cried on the man known throughout Hogwarts as the Slytherin God, and then rushed just as suddenly to – other areas – when he remembered the fact that he – Harry Potter – Saviour of the Wizarding world, and Gryffindor's Golden boy, had come on to a Malfoy! The Malfoy.

With every lingering touch that played through his mind, the harder Harry found it to breathe and the more colour drained from his face. Oh Merlin, what did he want? Why was he there? Was Lucius going to brag to Lily and James about the fact that Harry had been drinking – and flirting – with him? Was he just here to rub it in, laugh at him now that he was sober? How could he face the man now?

"Harry?" James prodded impatiently and Harry blinked quickly and looked at his father, unable to stop himself from cringing once more. He was going to regret every second of last night; he could just see it now.

"Oh." He murmured distantly. "Where is he then?"

"I showed him into the lounge-" James looked uncomfortable and disgusted at just the thought. "What's he here for?"

"Extra Defence work." Harry replied quickly. "I'll see what he wants."

"Couldn't he have just owled?"

Harry didn't bother to answer; he was already making his way out of the dining room and passing the Floo room. Before he entered the expansive lounge, he paused and took a minute to pull himself back together. It was fine. It would all be over with soon. He'd live, even if his dad did have a heart attack.

Standing in the lounge looking as tall and intimidating as he always did, was definitely Lucius Malfoy, a man who looked well out of place. He was wearing dark blue robes this time, and his pale hair was down and out of its ribbon, and his blue eyes were assessing the room, no expression on his facial features.

"Luc- Professor?" Harry called, flinching inwardly at his mistake.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter." Lucius greeted indifferently, turning to face him properly. "So, this is your home?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, we have a manor, but we don't use it." He replied, relieved when he was able to keep the quiver out of his voice.

"Ah, yes, I had wondered if the Potter Manor was still in existence. It's as old as the Malfoy Manor if my memory serves me correctly."

"Mum likes the cosy atmosphere of suburban life." Harry said again, biting his tongue immediately afterwards to stop himself from cutting through the pleasantries. He heard a small snort after his answer coming from behind him, and he knew that his father was listening.

Lucius' eyes searched Harry's features, and then commented, "Your eyes are still blood shot and you have black underneath them- you look like a raccoon."

Harry blushed and looked down at himself, cringing. "Yes, well, the holiday work you gave me wasn't as easy as I expected." He lied casually. Praying, hoping, that the man would catch on and not deliberately make a fool of him in his own home.

He did. Catch on, that is.

"If it had been easy, you wouldn't be getting anything out of it." He walked over to Harry, and circled him, as if trying to find something else wrong with him.

"Nothing is ever easy with me, Professor." The teen wanted to know why he was really here, but he had to watch what he said.

Lucius moved in front of Harry, "Well, all seems in order then?" He asked, his eyes lowering and locking with Harry's bright green ones.

"Yes, sir." said Harry, his contact never breaking. "I was just about to head for Diagon Alley… any books you could recommend, to help me with the rest of my Defence?"

Lucius arched an eyebrow, "Not at the very moment. If I come across something, I will owl you." He switched his snake cane to his other hand and nodded respectfully to Harry. "I will take my leave. I do not believe I am welcome here." He turned to go.

"That's not true." said Harry, before he could stop himself.

Lucius looked over his shoulder to see the teen blushing furiously, but his eyes held honesty. Those eyes were so easily readable; they had emotion like Lucius Malfoy had never seen before.

"You're always welcome here, Professor."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter."

Harry bit his lip as Lucius walked out. He was dying to shout out and ask why he had really come, to apologise for last night, to beg for a memory charm even, but he said nothing. He slowly walked over to the window and peered out to see the aristocrat standing there paused in his step for a moment. He then turned around and looked straight at Harry, a strange expression on his face. One that Harry was trying to read, but before he could decipher what the man's face told him he disapparated.

"You are always welcome here, Professor? A Malfoy, welcome in our home?" asked James Potter incredulously.

Harry flinched and turned his expressions neutral, and turned around, "Yes, dad, he is welcomed. I do have to put up with him for one more year. It is best that I stay as amiable around him as much as possible."

James grimaced, "A Malfoy in here-" He said, uncomfortably. "That does not happen every day."

No, it certainly did not, was what Harry was thinking to himself. Harry was curious as to why; Lucius took time out of his busy schedule to come see him. Lily came through now fully dressed in muggle clothing, and she glared at James, for talking about a teacher from Hogwarts.

"He is Harry's professor, a former Slytherin or not." Lily chastised. "Besides, I think he's quite a good teacher."

Harry silently agreed, he was definitely nice to look at, if anything and that made up for anyone's teaching skills.

"But, he's a Malfoy." grunted James. "A former Deatheater."

"Yeah, James, the word former, kind of means he left that life behind. He even left his wife, who did not agree with his changing of sides! It proved that he did not want that sort of life for him and his son."

"That and he just didn't want to ruin his name." exaggerated James, darkly.

"Maybe, but he did the right thing nonetheless." pointed out Lily.

James growled, "Stop making sense!"

Harry was still standing there next to the window, ignoring his father's ramblings about Slytherins, Snapes, and Malfoys. His mind was rambling enough about Lucius, and the strange expression that had been on his masculine features.

Man, he was gorgeous. There was no way around the looks of a Malfoy, even Draco

Malfoy had adopted the looks of Lucius. But, he didn't have the grace that Lucius had. He had years of perfection, with his sneer, his eyes, the smirk whenever he gave you one. The height - the strength in the shoulder's that were always straightened and proper.

Harry shook his head visibly. He had to stop thinking of that; his thoughts could lead to trouble.

"Mum, dad?" He said, breaking their banter up. "I think, I'm going to head on over to Diagon Alley."

"Alright, honey. Do you have your key?" asked his mother.

"Yeah, I got it."

"Harry?" said James looking up from where he sat. "Don't bring home anymore Malfoys - please."

Harry snorted, but didn't respond right away and when he did he grinned maliciously, "If it annoys you, I might just bring home my Potion's Master and Defence Teacher. Imagine that-"

Lily laughed out loud, as James' face had a look of horror, "You wouldn't do that to your dear dad would you?" he asked, sulkily. He crossed his arms, "Cause that would just - bite."

Harry laughed, "It would be worth it-" He admitted, lightening up just a bit.

"You'll send me to an early grave, you will." said James, touching his chest. "Don't scare your dad like that; I'm not as young as I used to be."

Harry sniggered, "You can dish it out but you just can't take it." teased Harry, as he stood in front of his mother. "Could you charm my clothes? I look bad enough with the eyes of a raccoon." he murmured, recalling Lucius' remark.

Lily smiled sweetly and flicked her wand casually, "There you are baby. What time will you be home?"

"No idea, set the table for two extra?" He grinned innocently, when James groaned and leaned his head back.

Lily giggled, "Sure will Harry, we'll even put a chair right next to your father, so that he and Professor Snape can talk."

"Lily Marie Evans Potter!" gasped James, and shook his head, "That is the most foul thing I have ever heard you speak of-" He made a face of sheer disgust, "Harry - please - don't do that to your father…"

Harry shrugged, "Who knows." He smirked deviously, before disappearing into the floo room.

He distantly heard his father say to his mother, "If he brings home a Slytherin, I'm blaming it all on you!"