Hi! I know. I'm a bad person. I don't update very often, and haven't written at all for the past couple weeks. Please forgive me my laziness, I'll try to start chapter 9 right away. This is the next part, please enjoy. Most important: do not forget to review!

Chapter 8

A visit

Harry sat down at his kitchen table, his plate filled with potatoes, chicory and a steak. He grabbed the knife and the fork and sighed. He was alone again. Even though he was happy not to have Ron or Hermione here, he felt something was missing. Just before he could put his fork in his mouth, he heard the fireplace rustle. Huh? Who was there? He wasn't expecting anyone. He listened intently, but couldn't hear who it was. Maybe Molly had gotten him sandwiches or something like that. Or it was Hermione who had forgotten to tell or give him something concerning work.

He put down his cutlery and stood up to go check it out. He entered the living room and froze in surprise. Before the fireplace stood a dusty Malfoy, brushing off his blouse with his wand like a vacuum cleaner.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Harry asked unpolitely, the surprise of seeing the person he had spent a wonderful week with influenced his mood in a strange way.

"Well, excuse me, Potter. You're the one who invited me, moron," Malfoy bit back. Harry quirked an eyebrow at that. Now that the surprise was ebbing away, Harry started to feel awkward. All he had wanted was to see Malfoy, but now that he was standing in front of him, he wanted nothing else than to create a large distance between them.

"Believe me, I haven't," Harry growled, returning to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your holy dinner, Potter. I just happen to have a note with your handwriting and signature." At that, Harry turned around again. Malfoy wasn't lying?

"Show me," Harry barked, as Malfoy held out a neatly folded note. Harry scanned it rapidly, his mouth falling open perplexed."I didn't write that!" He brought out, not believing his eyes. He read it again, all the more dumfounded by his very own handwriting and signature. As far as he knew, only one person could do it just the way he did it. Hermione.

Before Harry could share his thoughts, Malfoy interrupted."Then I must say I'm sorry, Potter, for accepting what looked like an invitation to me. I'm going home again," Malfoy sneered, unhappiness in his voice. At this, Harry's surprise and angriness for Hermione seemed to vanish.

"No, no! Stay. Please," Harry shouted, reaching out to stop Malfoy in his movement, but thought again and dropped his arm before they could touch. He didn't want to know what that action might have caused. "I always make too much for one person. We could have dinner. I don't mind," Harry babbled, trying to make up for his unfriendly behavior, suspecting Malfoy to be really pissed off. But after all, Malfoy was the one who left him behind and was barging into his house right now.

"I really don't want to interrupt your evening, Potter," Malfoy responded, sarcasm dripping off his voice. Harry hadn't expected anything else. He ignored the last comment and pointed to the other end of the table.

"Please take a seat. I'll get you a plate immediately! Hang on," he breathed, running back into the kitchen, motioning to Malfoy to follow him. He grabbed a dish, filled it with potatoes, carrots and steak and put it on the table in no time. Malfoy hadn't come along yet. Harry felt a pinch in his stomach, catching his breath as

"Malfoy? Please, I'm sorry. It just was so unexpected. I really don't mind having you here, you know," Harry called out, grabbing the cutlery and putting it on the dining table. He listened intently for a while, but it was dead quiet. Harry sighed, realizing the blonde had gone back home again. He sat down while heaving another sigh and grabbed his own cutlery feeling not so hungry anymore.

"I love chicory, by the way," Malfoy's voice cut through the silence, and Harry looked up. Malfoy was sitting before him, a grin splitting his face in two.

"Malfoy! I thought you went home. I," Harry said, but closed his mouth and smiled brightly. "I'm glad you like chicory. If I had known you were coming I would have made something more spectacular, but this'll have to do now." Harry felt a bit ill-at-ease with the change of moods, pricking his potato in two as he watched the blonde.

"It's more than fine," Malfoy smiled, honesty in his voice. This seemed to lighten the mood. Harry returned the smile, and took a bite of his steak with renewed hunger.

When Draco arrived at Potter's place, he sensed something was not right. And yes, Potter greeted him with a surprised gaze. He knew he shouldn't have accepted the weird invitation. After all, Draco had been the one to leave off like that, not Potter. Anyway, he didn't care who wrote the invitation, since he had missed being around Potter in the last week so badly, that he wanted to hug him right away.

He was kind of happy he hadn't left when Potter had asked him to do so. And here they were again, eating dinner together. It was curious how they seemed to keep meeting accidentally. He put a piece of chicory on his fork and chewed it thoughtfully. It was delicious. He looked at Potter, who avoided his gaze. He knew he had to apologize for leaving without saying goodbye, and for turning him down the night before he left. It had been an awful thing to do. That was doubtless the reason why Potter was so livid.

He cleared his throat, trying to form the words in his head, but couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. It had been very rude to reject him, while Potter had offered him to stay without complaining. Or with a little complaining, but still.

"I'm sorry for, … You know, stopping in the middle of- I just got sc- It got weird, you see," Draco tried, knowing he made no sense at all. He couldn't tell Potter about his feelings. What would he think? If he told him he had gotten scared from admiring the feeling of love in the Savior's eyes, he would most likely have a fit.

"Eh, why did you get weird?" Potter asked casually, his eyes betraying him and givinghis nervousness and interest away.

"I don't know, I'm stupid, Potter. It was wonderful, that evening. And I had to ruin it." Draco chewed on a slice of chicory, looking into the emerald eyes before him uncertainly. He was making no sense at all. He was beating around the bush.

"Wonderful? Was that why you backed away like I cut your dick off?" Potter spat, Draco having hit a nerve. Draco's eyebrow rose into his hairline, not expecting Potter to use that sort of language. He knew he deserved that, but it hurt nevertheless.

"No. I'm not used to commitments anymore. And I knew that if we would have gone any further, it wouldn't be possible to – I don't know – ignore what happened. I thought you'd get scared again, after kissing me you acted like nothing happened, so I thought and thought and well – I backed away," Draco tried to explain as honestly as possible, without spilling the most important details. He would not tell him about the love-part.

"I'm sorry for acting so childish about that kiss. I had never kissed a man before. It was overwhelming. And since you didn't start about it, I didn't either," Potter replied. That made sense. Draco knew how he had felt after his first kiss. That had been with Blaise, and he hadn't talked about it for months, before Blaise had forced him to kiss him again. But the kiss with Blaise couldn't be compared to kissing Potter. The way the man kissed was astounding. Draco could hardly put it to words.

"We can talk about it, you know. About us," Draco breathed, not sure if it was safe to guide the conversation there. Everything had already gone smoother than he could have hoped for.

"'Kay," Potter replied silently, continuing to eat. Draco ate too, admitting Potter could cook deliciously. They remained silent while they emptied their plates, afterwards, Potter put the plates into the sink, and guided Draco to the living room. They both sat down on the couch.

"That was delicious," Draco noted, trying to hide his inconvenience. He didn't know what to say. He had never expected to be sitting on Potter's couch on day. Honestly, before all this the thought would have horrified him, right now, it only made him nervous. He didn't even know if Potter still wanted him to be here. Well, Draco supposed he did, since he apologized about the kiss. He ignored the feeling to fumble and took a deep breath.

"Thanks," Potter whispered, as a reply. This made Draco's neck hair rise, giving him goose bumps all over his body. It reminded him of how that very voice had hissed in his ear, back in Paris. He tried to ignore his own train of thought, refusing to go there and focused on the coffee table instead.

"I'm sorry for everything," Draco whispered hardly audible, knowing nothing could undo what he had done. Why was he apologizing over and over again?

"It's alright. I know what was going through you. That makes it up," Potter smiled. Draco returned the smile without noticing he did, and drowned momentarily in his emerald eyes.

He leaned closer and captured Potter's lips with his own, feeling like that had been the only thing he wanted to do since he had left those lips a week ago. Draco's knee touched Potter's upper leg, as he came closer to the raven-haired man. Their bodies were drawn to each other. Draco deepened the kiss, pressing his lips harder on Potter's.

Potter responded the way Draco wanted him to. He kept pushing forward, forcing Potter in a lying position, his knees climbing all the way up, until he was sitting on top of him. He felt the adrenaline rush through his veins as he bumped against the hump in Potter's trousers. Potter's breath faltered, his gaze intensified. "I was a fool to let you down, Potter," Draco grumbled, his voice deep with lust.

"You can have me," Potter hissed, his eyes closed in pleasure as Draco trailed a finger down his chest. He undid the raven haired man's shirt, while the latter started unbuttoning his blouse. Potter's hands shook with nervousness. Draco didn't rush him, he just let the man finish his work in his own tempo.

As soon as the blouse was thrown somewhere around the living room, their lips met again. Draco glided his fingers down Potter's muscular back, the heat radiating off his skin making his fingers tingle. Draco buried his nails into the soft skin, Potter bucking his hips in response, a deep moan grumbling in his throat.

Draco bent down to suck Potter's pink nipple, his fingers gliding across his collar bone, massaging his stiff shoulders. He unbuckled Potter's black trousers, throwing them over the back side of the couch.

But then Draco was pushed backwards, a 'huh' slipping from his lips in surprise, as Potter crawled on top of him, leaning down in his neck to mark him. Draco moaned in reply, liking the way Potter hovered over him.

Harry didn't know what was happening. As soon as Malfoy had started kissing him, all his doubts disappeared. He drowned in Malfoy's silver orbs, forgetting his whereabouts instantly.

His pulse sped up as Malfoy left a trace of kisses down his chest. The tongue on his nipple sent shivers down his spine, heating up a particular area in the center of his body. A moan slipped from his lips before he could restrain himself, his mind clouded with a certain blonde.

He let his fingers glide down Malfoy's back, his skin feeling like silk under his rough hands. Then all of a sudden, he pushed Malfoy over, pressing him down onto the sofa. He cupped his cheek, uniting their lips once again, while unbuckling Malfoy's belt and undoing his trousers. He folded the pair of trousers neatly before setting them on the coffee table, unlike what they had done to the other set of clothes.

He then focused on Malfoy again, caressing his chest. He slipped down to his abdomen, played with the curly blonde hair before curling his fingers under the waistband of Malfoy's boxers. He pulled them down slowly and gently and set them next to his pair of trousers.

Harry took his time to take in the view of Malfoy, taking calming breaths as he did so, not wanting to rush into anything like they had done in the shed. He caressed his thighs, moving up to his testicles, before grabbing his erection prudently. He stroked it a few times, earning an instant reaction from the blonde. Then bent down and put his lips onto the head, kissing it precisely.

Malfoy's moan came from deep inside his throat, unlike the way Malfoy's voice usually sounded. Harry liked hearing the beastly sound, and took it as a good sign. He hoped Malfoy didn't notice his hands were shaking, and took half of the base into his mouth. Malfoy tried to buck his hips up, but Harry pushed them down, wanting to do it in his own pace. His nerves were killing him, but he sensed his movements were turning Malfoy on. After getting used to the largeness of Malfoy's penis, he took in the full length.

Malfoy tangled his fingers in Harry's hair, as he sped up his pace, caressing Malfoy's ass in his movements. Malfoy's other hand gripped the pillow under him tightly, squeezing it in pleasure. Harry had built up the tension slowly, which was why Malfoy couldn't last very long.

Harry knew as soon as he finished, he would never get used to the taste of Malfoy's come in his mouth. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't delicious either. He crawled on top of the boy, and after some hesitation, uniting their lips again.

Suddenly he heard someone exiting the fireplace. He jumped up, looking for his clothes that were thrown all over the place. He saw a red head coming closer and started to panic, looking down to see a black blanket covering his body. He looked at Malfoy, who only smiled at his flushed face and panicked eyes.

"Bloody hell, what are you doing here, Malfoy?" Ronald Weasley took in the scene before him, his eyes wide in surprise. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were both sitting on the couch, both wrapped into a black blanket, their other clothes decorated around the room.

"What are you doing here, Weasley?" Malfoy spat. Harry wanted to tell Ron nothing was going on but was paralyzed, his tongue unwilling to pronounce the words he formed in his head.

"I'm just visiting my best friend, you ferretface," Ron growled. He looked from one man to the other, a mingle of shock, confusion and disgust in his blue eyes.

"I'm visiting too, as a matter of fact," Malfoy said, not even blinking. Malfoy was very composed, while Harry was totally disconcerted. Harry's heart skipped a beat. It was obvious what they had been doing. Harry could see his friend looked at him expectantly, but it was as if his tongue was glued to the upper side of his mouth. The horrified expression on the red-haired man's face filled Harry's heart with guilt. But he didn't have anything to be guilty for right? He was a grown man, he could do whatever he pleased, with or without his friends' liking.

"I'm sorry for this, Ron," Harry mumbled, looking at the ground uncertain. He wasn't ready to spill the fresh details to his friends yet, Ron being the last person he would tell about it.

"I don't think you're wanted here," Ron snapped, concentrating back on Malfoy. Why Ron actually said that was a mystery, since it was quite obvious that both men wanted each others' company more than anything else in the world. However, Harry didn't respond at that either.

"I don't think that's your place to say, Weasel. Potter really liked my presence so far. If I were you, I'd think good before I say anything else, since I'm your boss," Malfoy grinned, his face still smooth.

"This hasn't anything to do with work!" Ron exclaimed. He looked at his friend for support, the latter still motionless.

"I can be very creative when it comes to you," Malfoy sneered, getting up from the couch to level up to the red-head.

"This is ridiculous. I don't like this one bit, Harry," Ron frowned. Harry felt all the more dreadful as pulled up his black sheet some more to step closer to his friend as well.

"Ron, I'm sorry. It's not what it seems," Harry whispered, before he could think about what he actually wanted to say. The words inflicted immediate damage.

"Not what it seems? Well Potter, I'll excuse myself for disrupting your evening and do as you please. I'm out of here! I'll see you tomorrow, Weasel." Malfoy growled in a cold tone. The amusement in his grey eyes had disappeared, making place for a dark storm. Harry looked at the man in shock, knowing that it had been the wrong thing to say. It was the only thing he had been able to say.

"Malfoy, I'm sorry! That's not what I meant!" Harry shouted after the blonde. But the man had already flooed in the chimney. Harry turned around, looking at the man standing in his living room, that not being the man he wanted to see there.

"Let him be, Harry. He's not worth it," Ron said, a smile crossing his lips. The smile was out of place.

"No! I know what I did, Ron! I'm not scared or shy to tell you! I – I like Malfoy," Harry stambled, looking at his friend for help. Harry's anger started to boil in his chest, feeling infuriated because he had been unable to tell those words in front of Malfoy. He thought he hadn't been able to say it because of Ron's presence, but it was clearly the other way around.

"You like the former Death-Eater?" Ron spat. For some reason, the way Ron said it made Harry's temper rise even more.

"He not a Death-Eater anymore, Ron! Don't call him that." Harry didn't know why he was reacting so defensively. The only thing he knew was that he didn't want anyone to talk shit about the blonde, not even his best mate.

"You don't like him Harry. It's probably just a phase. You had that during Hogwarts too, remember?"

"I don't know," Harry said, his eyes still fixed on the chimney. It had been very immature of him to say what he had blurted out. He knew he should go after Malfoy, but he couldn't go because Ron walked to the kitchen to grab some beers. That meant he would stay a while – all evening as a matter of fact.

But even if Ron wouldn't have been there, he still wouldn't have had the guts to chase the former Slytherin. He had never been good at this, he would only make things worse. His relationship with Ginny hadn't lasted very long either. He sat down on the couch, repeating their actions in his mind as Ron handed him the beer.

With that on his mind, he had already forgotten that Hermione was the one who had set them up.

To be continued…

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