Secret's Out 1/5

Harry/Draco, R

This fic contains slash and sexual situations.


1: Notice

It's after a Quidditch match that I notice.

Slytherin just beat Ravenclaw, and they're still on the pitch, gloating. Malfoy smirks, arrogant as always, and I find that when he's not smirking at me, when he's taunting other people, I don't find that smirk appalling. In fact, he looks rather dashing.

And I realize suddenly that Draco Malfoy is beautiful.

Madam Hooch finally shoos the Slytherin team off the pitch, and Draco mounts his broom. He flies, gracefully, toward the locker rooms. He catches my eye, and I quickly change my expression of interest to a disapproving scowl. If he knew what I was thinking he'd never let me live it down; my sudden fascination with him or the fact that I'm into blokes.

That's right, the famous Harry Potter is gay.

I've even been able to admit it to my friends. Hermione and Ron both accept it, and we don't let it affect our friendship at all. They now point out to me all the guys at Hogwarts who are gay, and insist that I should approach one of them. I never knew how many there were until now.

"A little romance in your life would do you good," Hermione keeps saying.

But I've never had a boyfriend before, and I've never kissed anyone. I have no idea how to even approach a guy. Even if I know he's gay, I wouldn't know what to say to him.

Especially Draco. We're supposed to be enemies, and here I am with a crush on him. That's right, it's just a crush. Nothing will ever come of it. Nothing can come of it, despite the rumors that he is gay as well. After all, the Slytherin Ice Prince and the Gryffindor Hero can't end up in a relationship with one another.

So I try to be discreet, stealing glances at him when I think he won't notice.

Draco has soft-looking blond hair that I want to run my hands through, and gray eyes that shine in the right light. When he smiles--which, I'll admit, is rare--the whole room lights up. He has this presence that demands attention, and when I am near him I can't help but stare.

Subtly has never been in my nature, clearly, and he quickly catches on. Now every time he catches me staring, I feel my face get hot, and I know I'm turning an embarrassing shade of red, or at least a soft pink.

So today we are in potions class, and Draco catches me once again, but I just can't take my eyes off of his nimble hands as he measures out the ingredients. He has a natural grace I could never hope to match. I wonder what those hands would feel like against my body, and my mind quickly takes a very erotic turn.

He catches my eye, and smirks. I feel myself blushing again, and I turn back to my potion. I dump the Mandrake root into it, and watch as it fizzes and sparks in a way that it's not supposed to. Snape swoops in, eager to berate me, and the Slytherins all laugh. He cleans up the mess with a flick of his wand, and gives me a written assignment to make up for my failed potion, which I set about miserably.

At the end of class I shove the parchment into my bag and rush out of the classroom before Ron and Hermione are finished cleaning up. I want to get away from the greasy git as quickly as possible.


I hear Draco call out my name, and I recognize the drawl, but I don't stop. Nothing he has to say to me can be good.

I am halfway down the stone-lined hallway when I feel his hands on my shoulders. He pulls me roughly to the side and slams me against a wall. The stones are hard and cold against my back, and I squirm uncomfortably. He leans in far too close, so that our noses are almost touching.

"If I catch you staring at me like that again, I will fuck you up so hard you won't be able to move the next day," he says. He points his wand in my face for extra emphasis. To those around us, it appears that he's threatening me, but the lustful look in his eyes is unmistakable, and his choice of words is not lost on me.

He looks to the left and right. Satisfied that no one is watching, he presses a chaste but firm kiss to my lips. It is short and passionate, and leaves me wanting more. But then he is gone. He sweeps down the hall, robes billowing behind him. I watch him go, feeling suddenly empty without his presence.