A/N: Written for The Houses Competition forum run by MoonlightForgotten. Hufflepuff House. Theme 'Revealing a Secret' using the prompt 'Drawing'. Enjoy!
The resident Slytherin Prince walked through the corridor with art supplies in his arms. It was no secret that Draco drew in his spare time. In fact, it was common knowledge that his drawing sessions were to release the dark and personal thoughts from his mind; and those were the secrets. No one knew what he did with the drawings, nor did they know what was drawn.
Any time that someone would try, they would arrive in the Hospital Wing with some kind of injury that Draco had no problem inflicting. Unless it was a girl, they would simply get boils; he still had an ounce of respect for females over the males in Hogwarts.
It was assumed that it was simple things regarding not getting his way or his father. It was also assumed that he would simply burn his crafts after he finished completing them; the assumptions were only half right. His father was the subject in some of his drawings, and he did burn those. However, there was a large secret that continued to burn at the heart of Draco Malfoy so much that it was the main thing he drew lately.
Which was exactly what he was doing now. Draco was going to his spot in the courtyard away from the prying eyes of students, creatures, and professors alike. It would be only him and the tree he always leaned up against; it was better than finding himself distracted by the clock tower. Draco set his supplies down and grabbed the sketchpad along with a piece of charcoal smoothed down at the edges. With an idea in mind, Draco put the utensil to parchment.
Once he started to draw, the strokes came easy. It was as if he were playing an instrument; the notes and keys were hit beautifully. His eyes were glued to his work, moving along with the lines and curves created on parchment. A smug grin appeared at the thought that came to Draco's mind; a thought he would create through his art.
It was quiet around Draco. Whether it was from the lack of activity or from his complete devotion to his artwork was lost on Draco; but he didn't care anyway because he was finished. His hand was darkened from the charcoal and constant movement of his hand to smudge in certain areas; his face was nothing short of satisfied. Though, if anyone were to look in his eyes, they would have noticed the sense of longing and jealousy within them.
Draco looked over the picture for a brief moment before folding it and placing it in his pocket. He gathered his things and left the courtyard as fast as he had arrived. Still, no one had a clue as to his activities and inspiration in his artwork neither did they know where they went.
Or did they?
The next morning, everyone was in the Great Hall having breakfast and waiting for the owls to deliver any mail. It took no time for a plethora of owls to fly into the Great Hall and drop items for their recipients. Draco held his goblet close to his face as he watched someone in particular opening another wrapped package.
He watched as her large, brown eyes widen at yet another unmarked package before narrowing in frustration because she could not figure out who was sending her such things. He watched as her moronic friends tried to get information out of her about the mail. He looked smug at one of their faces becoming as red as their hair with envy.
She stood up with the package and promptly left the Great Hall, leaving the others in her wake; her messy curls flowing behind her. It was tempting to follow her, but like always, Draco couldn't do that in order to not blow his cover nor his secret.
You see, when the object of his affections finds seclusion, she'll open the package to find another masterpiece drawn with her as the object. She'll blush from the flattery and the confusion because she had no idea who would find her worthy of the drawings. Then she would hide it from her friends and tell them it was a mistake, just like always.
But Draco found her worthy; he found her breathtaking, intelligent, and so much more. He had to come into terms that he had fallen for Gryffindor's muggleborn princess some time ago, and it would never be known by anyone or anything except for himself and the strokes on the parchments.