Next chapter! I know they are taking me longer and longer each time, but since school started again, I can hardly find the time to continue. I hope you like this part, and don't forget to tell me all what you thought about it in a review!

Chapter 7
Back to reality

Harry was woken up by a cool breeze in his face. He frowned, turning away from the cold source and tried to reach for his blanket. He couldn't find it, the cold waking him all the more up. He remarked that his bed was extremely hard. He opened one eye, seeing a wooden wall in front of him.

Realization struck him, as he saw the straw on the floor. Malfoy and he had been locked inside that stupid barn. He looked around for Malfoy as goosebumps appeared on his bare skin, the cold making him shiver as he did so. He noticed the door was open, that being the main source of that cold breeze. Harry grabbed his jeans and buttoned up the cold cloth, finding his shirt and jumper too. With his jumper back on, he started to warm up and could think more clearly.

Malfoy was already gone. He probably had gone to bed in their normal room, but Harry wasn't happy with that. He could've at least woke him up to come along, but no, he had left him here to freeze. After dusting the straw off his clothes, he exited the shed, walking up to the farm house. Yesterday had been a troublesome day. He and Malfoy had done stuff he hadn't done in years, and all of a sudden Malfoy looked up at him, realizing what he was doing and backed away. Harry had seen the shock forming in Malfoy's eyes. Harry was disgusted by himself. Why did he even go along? He knew he wasn't good at that part, since he and Ginny hardly had had sex. He wasn't good enough for Malfoy, and that had pinched, since he knew he fancied the man.

It had even popped into his brain that he loved him, but he wouldn't tell him that. He wouldn't even admit it to himself yet. How could he be sure about it anyway? They had seen each other for only seven days, but still they had gotten to know each other far more than they had in the seven years spent at Hogwarts.

When he arrived in his room, he immediately noticed Malfoy's bags were gone. The man had probably packed early and had left. Harry knew he shouldn't feel bad because of it, but somehow his stomach turned around in nausea. It hurt that he hadn't even said goodbye. He tried to figure out what he could have possibly done wrong that evening. All Harry had been able to read from the man, was that he had liked it. Maybe he had just been wrong. Harry then sighed and made his way to the shower.

After eating breakfast, Harry didn't feel like staying a moment longer at the farmhouse. Everything he did reminded him of Malfoy, and that wasn't very handy right now. Harry knew it was stupid feel like he lost Malfoy, since you can't lose something you never had. He threw all his stuff in his bag with more force than usual, trying to work off his frustration against his personal belongings. Malfoy had started that whole thing in the first place, how could it be his fault? Why was he the one pondering about the sex issue? Malfoy had gone further than kissing, not Harry. Maybe it was because of the way Harry had done it.

That probably was the case, since that was about the spot where they had stopped. Harry had never done such a thing with a guy before, let alone that he'd be good at it. Well, he only had experienced some exercise with himself, but that was as far as it went for masturbating. He sighed, Malfoy had given him his best handjob ever. That was actually very sad, since it had only lasted a few minutes and hadn't been finished.

Harry walked his way to the Apparating area reluctantly, sadness filling his heart. He would give anything to have Malfoy back at the farmhouse with him again.

Draco left early this morning. He woke up frozen from head to toe. The door must've swung open overnight, and a cold breeze cut his skin. Potter was lying a meter away from him, soundly asleep. He looked at the man for a long time, momentarily forgetting the chilliness around him. Potter was handsome, honest and goodhearted. Draco wasn't good enough for him. How could he ever live up to such beautiful qualities?

Everything had been great, from the kisses to the soft, experimental touches on his member. Draco forced himself to think about something else for a while, to prevent an upcoming boner. This wasn't healthy. Why was Potter able to do such things with him? Why was he the only one able to evoke such extreme feelings?

Draco had been stupid. He got scared and turned away, something he shouldn't have done. He had regretted his decision as soon as he made it. He wouldn't cry over spilt milk, knowing that what's done is done. He hadn't felt that excited about anything since Hogwarts. He knew he had pushed away the only worthwhile thing in his life, and knew that it was entirely his fault too.

He didn't want to face Potter, knowing that his eyes would speak volumes. He didn't want to see the rejected feeling in Potter's eyes, nor did he want to see the hurt, sadness or anything else caused by him. He felt sorry already, something that didn't quite fit a Malfoy. He wouldn't be able to face the man lying next to him. He had never been capable of handling so many emotions at one time, and right now his mind was boiling over.

So he decided to go, before the man woke up. He would run away from it all, letting everything slip away so that he could start to forget about it all and return to his normal life. To his boring life. Draco had never packed so quickly before, fearing that if Potter woke up he would come straight up and then, Draco would have to explain himself and admit what a coward he was.

The worst thing of it all was that he had been scared by the love in Potter's eyes. Pure, real, visible, honest love. Draco wasn't worth Potter's sincere love. He would spoil it or break it. He had already made love to a few men, all guys with whom he had spent several months together. However, in neither of those men's eyes had he seen that emotion. And he knew none of those guy had seen that emotion in his eyes either. Draco feared that he would never be able to love like Potter. His love would never be as precious as Potter's. The only reasonable thing to do was to leave.

He left with a heavy heart, dragging along his luggage, feeling as if they weighed a lot more than when he arrived.

Harry had invited Ron, Hermione and their kids over for dinner. He was preparing roast beef, with garlic, jacked potatoes and some cold vegetables. He knew the kids loved jacked potatoes, he always made their favorite.

On other occasions, he would go visit the entire Weasley family, but right now he didn't feel like having too much company. He had been feeling rather lonely this week, but that would soon be better when he got back to work. The trip to France had only been for a week, while he had gotten two weeks off from work.

Harry knew he was trying to find excuses to not think about Malfoy, but having his best friends over would give short shift to his wandering mind. He could hear they arrived because of the squealing sounds Hugo was making. Rose, on the other hand, was a very silent girl who loved reading, just like her mother. Harry smiled at the kitchen wall, remembering how fond off their children he was.

"Hi, guys! How are you?" Harry greeted, entering the living room. Hermione, Rose and Hugo were already standing on the soft blue carpet, while Ron was spinning around in the chimney surrounded by green flames. Hermione was dusting the children's clothes off with her wand before looking up at Harry.

"Hi, Harry. You look wonderful! Your holiday has certainly done you a lot of good," Hermione spoke. Harry had to keep himself from quirking an eyebrow. He hadn't felt so miserable in years, and now his friend was telling him he looked wonderful.

"Thanks, 'Mione. Are you hungry? I already finished dinner," Harry announced, not wanting to tell her about his negative feelings and his encounter with Malfoy. He smiled at Ron, who returned his smile and nodded in greeting. Harry already felt calmer, knowing this would be the perfect distraction.

"Uncle Harry, will you ride the broom with me later?" Hugo asked, sitting down on his chair, looking at Harry with big puppy eyes. Rose put aside her book, rolling her eyes at her brother. She didn't like Quidditch at all.

"Of course I will, Hugo. First, let's eat, shall we?" Harry served the food and the family started eating. Harry ate in silence, wondering if he'd ever have a family like that. He probably wouldn't, he had never imagined himself to be a father. He really loved kids, but hadn't thought about having any.

"The holiday did you good didn't it? Have you met someone there? You really look a lot happier than you did before," Hermione started. This was already the second time in less than ten minutes that the holidays were mentioned. But Harry couldn't expect anything else, he would've asked the same thing if they had been on a holiday. Harry had to keep the urge to quirk his eyebrow again. He pretended to be happily surprised by the news.

"I do? Well, I certainly don't feel happier, that's for sure. But well, I guess you're probably right, the holiday has been distressing, that's for sure," Harry responded politely, modesty in his voice.

"Yeah, you went to Paris, ain't that right mate? I heard at work this week that Malfoy went there too," Ron babbled, his mouth full of jacked potatoes. At the mention of Malfoy's name, Harry got goose bumps all over his arms. The worst part was that the goose bumps were accompanied by a stirring feeling in his groin.

"Ronald, at least try to be an example for your kids, please," Hermione remarked her glance severe, then she looked at Harry with a large smile on her face. "Did you know you went to the same city as Malfoy?" she asked. Harry wanted to avoid Malfoy as much as possible, but knew he couldn't lie about or hide anything from his friends. He recomposed himself quickly, ignoring what his body was feeling without Malfoy even being here, and smiled uncertainly.

"No, actually I didn't, but I kind of ran into him during the holidays," Harry explained. It was better to at least tell them they had seen each other. There was no need to spill any details.

"Oh, did you? Where?" Hermione asked, a steady curiousness in her voice. Harry frowned at her, wondering if they already knew more about it, but that was impossible. Maybe it was just due to the fact that he always felt like Hermione could see right through him.

"At the Apparition point. He lost his bag, and I probably was the only one who saw it. I took it and brought it back to him. You never told me you worked under Malfoy, Ron?" Harry fired at his red-haired friend. Harry had known Malfoy had always wanted to become an Auror, but hearing the blonde had actually achieved his goal, ánd was Head of the Department, had been a surprise.

Ron's ears turned red immediately. "Well, I didn't think you wanted to be bothered by Malfoy again, so we just decided to not tell you." That offended Harry. They were the ones that brought him up right now, but before they didn't even care to tell that he worked at the Ministry?

"We? Hermione knew about that too? Why didn't you tell me that? I always wondered what had happened to him!" Harry blurted, raising his voice.

"Please Harry, the kids," Hermione whispered. "We just didn't think it would do you good. You had been stressed a lot. You actually have been stressed for such a long time and I'm glad to see that the days spent in France made you lighten up," Hermione smiled. She had some sauce on her cheek, but before Harry could say anything about it, Ron wiped it off with a soft brush, smiling at his wife lovingly.

Harry felt a pinch of jealousy and put his cutlery down. "I'm not feeling any better than before. I just feel worse to be honest." Harry couldn't stand that his friends thought he was happier. The days with Malfoy had only made him more miserable, and turned him into a wreck! Why did they keep telling him he was looking better?

"Are you sure? You seem alive to me again. Two weeks ago you just got up in the morning because you were needed at work. I've worked with you for the past three years, Harry. And I can tell you look lots better."

"I take it you're happy to see me then," Harry responded with a brief smile. Harry knew she wouldn't drop it otherwise. He just wanted the subject to change. Apparently that was too much to ask.

"So what did Malfoy say?" Ron asked, "After you brought back his bag." Harry immediately felt nervous again, not expecting the subject to change back to Malfoy again this fast.

"He was glad that I found it, as far as Malfoy can be grateful that is. But I asked him to accompany me to the Opera, as a return of the favor," Harry explained. At this, Hermione's eyebrows rose a little, noticing the slight smile on Harry's lips that neither Harry or Ron had seen.

"Why would you want him to come along, Harry. Seriously," Ron grumbled, pulling up his nose in disgust. Harry got angry again, but bit back his snappy retort.

"It was quite enjoyable, if I have to admit it. It was better than going alone, I suppose," Harry told his friends, explaining himself for the umpteenth time that evening. The inconvenience in his chest was hardly bearable. "But what is this really, a questionnaire?" he scoffed, trying to keep his voice friendly but his angriness sounded through.

"We're just asking about your holiday, Harry, that's all," Ron replied crestfallen.

"I'm finished, I'll go play with Hugo, 'kay?" Harry excused himself, rising from his seat and making his way to the back yard. He had hoped that talking to his friends would get his mind off of Malfoy, but instead they even had started about him. What was happening to him? Why was he getting all flushed up because Malfoy's name was mentioned? Why did his friends tell him he looked cheered up, while inside he felt more miserable than he had ever felt?

Hermione knew something had happened during the holidays. She knew it had something to do with Malfoy, but she didn't have a clue what it exactly meant. She had noticed Harry looked a bit sad, but at least there had been emotions in his eyes. The last couple of months, his gaze had been empty, and it hurt to see him like that non-stop.

So right now, she knew Malfoy had lit a match inside Harry. They had seen each other in France, she had seen that Harry hadn't told her everything, that he had held a few things back. She had observed the way he talked about the former Slytherin and knew they had become more than enemies. This didn't surprise her al all though, she had always suspected them to be more than just arch-enemies.

She had asked Ginny to stop by at Harry's place, to see if she could derive anything from his behavior. She hoped Ginny had found out more than she had. They were meeting in Florian Fortescue, to make sure their conversation wasn't overheard or interrupted by her husband. Even though he was at work, he could be home early sometimes. She sat down and ordered a cappuccino while waiting.

Ten minutes later, Hermione saw a red bush of hair making its way through the Daigon Alley crowd. "Hi, Hermione," Ginny saluted, sitting down in front of her with a large smile. Hermione returned it politely, giving her a brief hug.

"How was it?" she asked instantly, the curiousness taking the better part of her.

"The holiday has been good to him. He's reborn, I think," Ginny explained, the smile glued on her face. Hermione nodded in agreement. That was exactly what she had seen.

"Yeah, I think so too. Have you asked anything about Malfoy?" Hermione tried. She hadn't gotten her hopes up to get any useful information, but what Ginny told her, was beyond anything she had expected to hear.

"No, not about Malfoy, but I can tell he met someone in France, Hermione. He's in love."

"What?" Hermione blurted out, by which she disturbed an old lady sipping her sorbet, shooting Hermione an unhappy glance. Hermione continued more silently. "I hadn't noticed," she breathed.

"It's hardly visible, but I can tell it by the way he says things, does things. He was in love with me at Hogwarts, and I can tell he's behaving the exact same way. I'm not sure whether the one he loves, loves him back though. He has this sad look in his eyes." Hermione looked at Ginny in adoration, happy that her sister-in-law had gotten that much info.

"I noticed that too. Or maybe it's because he hasn't told this person how he feels about him or her," Hermione continued. Her cappuccino was left untouched in front of her.

"Him?" Ginny asked baffled, looking at her friend in disbelief.

"I'm not excluding anything here, Gin. He met Malfoy during his holidays. It's very likely that he's the one Harry's in love with."

"No. That can't be, Harry's not gay, Hermione."

"No, just think about it. He used to be obsessed with him all the time. Maybe that explains it. Malfoy has always been on his mind, Ginny. We risked our lives saving him in the Room of Requirement, remember?" Hermione's brown eyes beamed as she spoke.

"That's just because Harry suspected him to be a Death Eater, and leaves no one behind, Hermione. I don't buy it. I don't think Malfoy has got anything to do with this. He's in love with a French girl," Ginny retorted.

"Maybe. Thanks for doing this, Gin. You really helped me out." Hermione drank up her now cold cappuccino and made to leave.

"No problem. I wanted to see Harry for a long time. I'm glad we talked," Ginny smiled, grabbing her purse as they left together. Hermione said her goodbyes before she apparated back home.

Her mind was working overtime. She had to make sure Harry and Malfoy got in touch again. While making dinner, she thought of a plan. While steaming the carrots, an idea popped into her head. She immediately took a piece of parchment and grabbed her quill. Then she thought again for a few seconds about what she would write.

Dear Malfoy,

I had a wonderful time during the Holidays. It would be nice if we could meet again.
What do you say about dinner tonight, at my place? Let's say at 6 sharp.

I'll see you then,

Harry.

Hermione rolled up the letter, attaching it to their family owl. Malfoy would not be able to tell that it wasn't Harry's letter. She had done so much homework for them during Hogwarts, that she could imitate Ron and Harry's handwriting without anyone knowing. And since Hedwig died in the war, Harry had never bought another owl again, and always used either theirs, or one from the Post office. Malfoy woudn't suspect a thing. She smiled at her own brightness and started to make dinner for her own family.

To be continued.

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