A/N: Hello everyone! I have taken it upon myself to start a new fanfiction. However, life is starting to heat up a bit, and things are getting busy. I have roleplays and homework to attend to that usually come before fanfiction, so I apologize if this story isn't moving as fast as my others have. I'm aiming to get a chapter up a week, though, at least. This new story is a based (quite roughly, though) upon the song 'Lips of an Angel' by Hinder. It will show more in the next few chapters, though. Not so much in this prologue of sorts that mostly explains parts of the past and Harry's feelings. I'll let you read now. Please read, review and enjoy!

Harry stared at the wax sealed letter in front of him. He knew who it was from, but he didn't want to open it. The rejection he was sure to face was staring him straight in the face, and the Gryffindor wasn't sure if he could face it right now. It wasn't from Ginny, as many people were to expect. Rejection wasn't something to fear with her; she's thrown herself at him for years. He could have her in a heartbeat if he really wanted her.

But, he didn't. He didn't want the Weasley girl. She was too easy; he wanted a challenge, a fight, someone who could make him feel a whole range of emotions that made him feel alive. In the same sense, he wanted a person who didn't see him as the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived or any other garbage. This person needed to see him for who he was: an imperfect, hotheaded human being.

It took the raven time to fully come to terms with what he wanted. Or, to be exact, who he wanted.

Draco Malfoy.

This wasn't a out of the blue decision, however. Malfoy and Harry had a... fling, one could call it, back in sixth year. It was purely physical, satisfying their curiosity and serving as a stress reliever for both of their busy, heavy set lives. The two boys, both knowingly holding the weight of the world on their shoulders, came together every few weeks to simply fuck and work out their frustrations and other emotions at the world. There was never talking, never cuddling, never staying. The only sounds were groans and, in Harry's case, words only a snake would understand. This turned Malfoy on more then he was willing to admit.

It started with a shared detention under Flitwick's supervision (or lack there of). They had to put away a large scatter plot of cushions used in class that day, neatly piling them all up in a charmed cabinet that would hold them all. After a stumble of feet, Harry found himself flat on top of Malfoy. Grey met green, and they had the same idea about their position. Malfoy bucked up against Harry experimentally, and they two hormonal teenage boys lost it from there, falling into waves of lust for the remainder of that detention.

They decided to keep seeing each other once in a while, enjoying a thorough shag and then parting each time. Nothing was said, because nothing needed to be said. They didn't care for each other, nor were they dating; it was just... enemies with benefits. Something like that.

A system was worked out between them; Malfoy had devolved a special wax that would only open for a certain person's magic, sending Harry letter's of their next time and place for a fuck session. This allowed it to be completely secret, though Harry did have to fend of his friends the first few times. He managed, though, like always. Ron had a short attention span, and Hermione liked to try to figure things out on her own. She never would, though, and that thought was mildly amusing to Harry.

Six year ended, however, as did their fling of sorts. Malfoy was off being a Death Eater, and Harry was hunting Horcruxes. It was nice while it lasted, but they had much bigger commitments then a fuck buddy.

The war ended a year later, and Harry was able to put his life back together again. He started Auror training, ready to settle down in a new home with a new life. He could start a family with Ginny, once they were properly married, of course, and watch Hermione and Ron plan their own wedding and start the same process of becoming a family. The Weasley's were looking up since Fred's death, and George re-opened the joke shop. He wasn't the same, but he was close to his old self. Molly and Arthur rebuilt the burrow, slowly piecing it back together.

Nothing would ever be the same as it was before the war, but things were adjusting and people were healing.

It wasn't much later that Harry started to feel like he was missing something in his life. He had lived his entire life as a wizard dealing with Voldemort, Death Eaters, Horcruxes and all things that went with that. It was exciting, full of danger and things to do. But now... he was just a normal person, living his life every day. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. It was nice, on one hand, not to fear death constantly, worry about Voldemort, feel the burn of his scar and have loved ones die for him. But, was this what he wanted in life? To just dry up and become a normal person?

Along with this questioning came his dislike of Ginny. Or, at least, a romantic relationship with Ginny. She was too weak, too dry, too... giving. She didn't fight with him, tell him he's a prat or make him feel... anything, for that matter. It was too perfect. It wasn't real.

The Gryffindor battled for many months on what exactly he wanted in a lover, and finally, the thought hit him: he was describing Draco Malfoy. Arrogant, stubborn, cocky, sly, cunning. So totally Slytherin. But, not like most of the other Slytherins. He had compassion, decency, love, determination and a disgust for cruelty toward the innocent. He was proud enough to argue with Harry, but willing to form a compromise. He was willing to kill to save the life of his family, but was unable to do it in the end because he was too compassionate. He could make Harry feel angry, pissed off, upset, push his buttons and generally make him want to rip off the blonde boy's head. But, he also had the ability to soothe those emotions and love without restriction or fear. But, almost more important then any of those reasons was the fact that Malfoy saw him simply as 'Potter'. Never the Chosen One or any of that crock of shit. He saw him as a person, imperfect and human, just as he saw himself.

As this realization overcame him, Harry felt the need to write him, to talk to him, to see him. How could he explain this to Malfoy, though? He was courting a pureblood women, living with his family (whom Harry defended in the trail shortly after Voldemort's death) and enjoying his Potter free life.

Regardless, the Gryffindor had to try. He quickly wrote up a neat, to the point letter and sent it with his new owl, Mindy. She was a soft grey with bright yellow eyes. She was a dependable owl, quite intelligent. She was a decent friend and messenger, but no bird could replace Hedwig in the end.

The letter read:

'Malfoy –

I need to talk to you. Let's do lunch this week. I'm off for lunch between noon and one; name the date and the place, and I'll be there.

Harry Potter.'

Simply and to the point, but polite.

Harry wasn't expecting a return owl so soon, but less then an hour later, Mindy returned with a letter in her beak. Gently petting her, he thanked the bird, gave her an owl treat and allowed her to take a rest in her cage. He stared down at the letter for a while, wondering, thinking. Malfoy had returned it so fast... and he had used their special wax, too. Despite his logical thinking, the raven felt a bit of warmth in his stomach, hope that was starting to blossom. Perhaps Malfoy had missed him, or at least their time together?

Swallowing, the Gryffindor carefully rubbed the wax stamp with his thumb, watching it change to a pretty red color, meaning it was now ready to open. He pealed it open, his eyes scanning over the few words written on the paper.

'Potter –

Tuesday at the Leaky Cauldron. I am most curious of the meaning of this.

Draco Malfoy.'

Harry took a deep breath at the words, reading them a few more times before doing a bit of math in his head. It was Saturday, meaning he had three days before seeing Malfoy.

He had a feeling those were going to be three of the longest days of his life.