No One's Secret to Keep


By darkmosmordreheart

General Summary: D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th Year.

Summary of this Chapter: Draco pisses of Snape; Harry is a tad bit rough (with a dirty mouth); Filch is strangely absent.

Warnings: Slash, sex, language, all that good stuff. Oh! And as much as I loved HBP and DH, they never happened . . . you never read them . . . they are all a figment of your imagination . . .Twilight Zone music . . .

Disclaimer: I am not British, I am not rich, and goddamnit, I am just not J.K. Rowling. The only thing I own is the laptop I'm typing on and I didn't even buy that, so obviously these characters are not mine. cries hysterically


Chapter One

Draco Malfoy was bored shitless.

As much as he appreciated his Head of House, even he had to admit it; Severus Snape was pretty boring. Helping his students review for NEWTs was obviously not his forte, but he continued on in his strangely deep, sleep inducing, nasally monotone. Just as Draco's silver-blonde tresses threatened to hit the table top, he felt something poke sharply into his side. He turned to his right to ask Crabbe what the hell but the moron could barely keep his own head up, let alone make use of what few brain cells he had in order to move his arm and fingers to jab his friend. But Draco asked anyway.

"Crabbe?! You dolt! Did you poke me?"

Crabbe directed muddy brown eyes towards the pissed voice and shook his head. Draco scowled and rubbed his side. Surely it would bruise. His skin was delicate.

As soon as the pain subsided, Draco removed his hand from his side and turned back to Snape to continue his boredom. And then, something poked him hard in the neck.

"What the hell?!" he exclaimed, is voice echoing through the almost silent dungeon classroom. Snape dropped whatever book he was reading aloud from with an ominous thump before training obsidian eyes on his favorite student.

"Would you like to share something with us, Draco?" he invited politely, though his eyes said otherwise.

"Er . . . No, Professor, forgive me."

Snape inclined his head and went back to his book. Draco gave an uneasy laugh. He seriously thought he was going to get in trouble for a minute. With Snape! Hilarious!

Suddenly, something sharp poked his hand hard enough to break the skin.

"Aw, fuck!" he yelped, jumping up and sucking his new wound into his mouth.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you wish to make a fool of yourself, please be so kind to do so on your own time, not mine. Five points from Slytherin and detention tonight at nine," Snape snapped loud enough to wake up a majority of his class. Draco, along with many others, looked shocked. Snape had given him a detention. And deducted house points! This was a bad, boring day, Draco decided as he inclined his head to his professor and sat. As soon as he was seated, whatever had poked him was poking him again, but as soft as possible this time.

He looked down and saw a small white paper airplane pressing against his still bleeding palm. He opened it to see that it was blank, but when he smoothed the creased paper with his palm, a lazy, familiar scrawl started to make its way across the note.

Meet me after your detention. Let's see if we can use the Charms room.

-P


Draco sat in the empty Charms classroom, trying to keep his spirits, and body heat, up.

He was freezing his ass off, but was too fearful to light the nice inviting fireplace in the corner because he knew Filch's bitch ass cat could be there at any moment. Why someone would get the fool notion to use the Charms classroom, which was located in the most frequented hall of the school, was way beyond him. So he just rolled his eyes and wrapped his robes closer to him and waited.

"Malfoy?"

The voice came from the doorway and was cautious and quiet.

"Here," he answered. He heard footsteps echo through the room, but he could not see the feet. "Cut the invisibility shit, Potter, and get the fuck over here."

He heard a soft laugh before Potter unveiled himself with a dramatic flourish of his father's special cloak. "Someone seems a bit impatient."

"Well, when one has been freezing his balls off for over an hour waiting for an idiot to show up, yes, one can become rather impatient," he snarled through straight, pearly white teeth.

"An hour?" Potter's eyebrows rose high above the dark frames of his glasses. "You waited that long for me?"

"I said over an hour, but that doesn't matter now," he said, standing and lifting his fingers to the clasps of his robes.

"How long was detention?" Potter asked conversationally, watching Draco, his hands not lifting at all to disrobe himself.

"Just a little over half-an-hour."

"I should have known Snape wouldn't give his teacher's pet a two hour detention like he always does me," Potter laughed, leaning back against a desk and watching as Draco's robes fell down in a dark pool around him.

"I am not a teacher's pet," Draco said haughtily. "Just because the professor likes me better than you---"

"He likes blast-ended skrewts better than me."

"---doesn't mean that I am a teacher's pet," he finished, ignoring Potter's statement. "Besides, I'm his best student."

"No, Hermoine is his best student."

"Shut up," he snapped, feeling heat creep up to his neck and ears, so he decided to change the subject. "Why aren't you taking off your clothing?"

"I'm watching you." And as if to prove his statement, his gaze shifted to the skin bared by Draco's unbuttoned shirt.

"Why?" he asked, genuinely curious. Potter laughed.

"You don't know?" he asked quietly, the tone of his voice dropping to one that only a select group of people had ever heard. Draco was pleased to be included in that group. Potter walked slowly to him until Draco could feel a warm breeze gliding across his lips. His eyes closed involuntarily and he felt himself swaying towards the warm body before him. "You're so sexy, Malfoy. I want to watch you undress because of the way your long, pale fingers caress all that smooth, porcelain skin of yours. I love seeing you touch yourself. I love seeing you naked. Undressing yourself is the best of both worlds, in a sense."

Draco's lips trembled and let slip as shaky, "P-P-Potter," a second before hard lips took his mouth. Draco found himself being pressed against a wall that he didn't even remember being near and moaned as Potter's rough mouth moved to his neck.

"Undo your pants." The order was barked out of Potter's mouth so easily that Draco couldn't resist it. He barely had his belt unbuckled when his impatient partner grabbed the waist of his trousers and yanked hard, causing the fabric to rub harshly against him and leave red marks down the sides of his pale legs.

"Aw, fuck!"

Potter didn't apologize, but instead sunk to his knees before Draco's newly naked body. He took of his glasses and silently lifted them up to be taken by Draco, who looked down at him with glittering silver eyes and placed the glasses on top of his smooth silver hair. Potter smiled and broke eye contact so that his gaze rested on the task ahead.

The Slytherin almost came, right then and there when Potter nuzzled the silvery hair his erection was nestled in. "Potter!"

"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy! Can't you even get your dick sucked without talking the whole way through?"

Draco loved Potter's harsh tone and words. "Suck it and I might quiet down."

"Good because if you don't, Filch will be here before you can say fanged Frisbees."

Draco jolted at that, even knowing that Potter said it just to heighten the risk factor, but his eyes darted to the open doorway. "Potter, maybe we should close the---Aaaaawwww, ffffffuuuuuck!"

Potter's mouth was surrounding him, hot and wet and sucking. Oh sweet Merlin, the sucking. "Potter . . . I . . . Oh, God . . ."

He felt the mouth around him vibrate as his tormentor chuckled, and waves of pleasure radiated throughout his body. He lifted both hands to his quivering lips and licked the tips of two fingers on each hand, then moved his shirt aside to play with his dusky nipples. Potter's emerald gaze shined up at him as he did so and his eyes narrowed with passion. He released Draco from his mouth with a pop and stuck a finger in his mouth; lavishing it with his tongue and getting it wet enough for what he had in mind.

Draco saw what he was doing and arched his back and tried to spread his legs as much as the pants at his ankles would allow him. Finally, Potter's slick finger found its way into Draco's tight entrance. "Oh . . . I . . . That is so . . . good."

"It is, isn't it?" Potter agreed, a hint of teasing in his deep voice just before sucking Draco back into his mouth. Pale fingers clutched pitch black locks so hard that if they weren't already standing on end then they would certainly be that way after all was said and done. So Draco tugged Potter's hair and arched and moaned and groaned and did just about anything that would clue Potter in to how much he needed to come.

The Gryffindor hero just couldn't be swayed. He just smiled around Draco's erection and sucked and lapped happily away without a care in the world while the boy he was on his knees for shook with unreciprocated passion.

Potter's fingers---he had added another one---were still milking his prostate and he could feel himself hitting the back of Potter's throat with every thrust his hips seemed to be doing on their own accord and he couldn't breathe and every muscle in his body was clamping and tightening up and his skin felt as if it was too small for his body and he was quickly turning into gelatin and he saw bright lights and so many colors and he practically died when he finally came. His head fell back with a loud yell that was sure to get Filch running if he were anywhere around and Potter's glasses slid off his hair and fell to the ground, the sound of smashed glass echoing in the room.

"Malfoy, you fucker." Potter lifted his glasses from the ground before standing and looking at Draco. He shook his head, sighed and licked at the corner of his mouth. "You're so lucky that you taste so good, otherwise, I'd feel inclined to kick your ass. Oh well. Reparo."

Draco leaned against the wall, his eyes closed tight and his panting so harsh that his pale chest lifted rapidly enough to gain Potter's attention. The dark-haired boy's eyes lighted up with pleasure.

"Did I take your breath away, Malfoy? Did I suck you so good that you can't even speak?"

Draco finally managed to open his eyes to look at the dark prince standing before him. "I can talk, Potter."

"Yes, barely." The Gryffindor smirked smartly as he lifted his repaired glasses to his eyes. "Malfoy, you look so tired. Do you want to rest? Should we call it a night and get you to bed?"

"Shut up, Potter. I'm not tiring so easily tonight," Draco growled at the taunt. It was an ongoing game between the two of them every time they met like this; they would tease each other ruthlessly until one cried for mercy.

Potter never cried for mercy.

Draco pushed himself off the wall, took a moment to bend and lift up his pants and knickers, and then walked slowly towards Potter's retreating figure. Soon Potter was pushed against a desk and Draco felt an overwhelming sense of power.

Potter's breath hitched as the Slytherin's hands lifted to disrobe him.

"Hurry," the Chosen One ordered, emerald eyes closing behind thin glass lenses. "Malfoy, hurry."

"Shh, Potter. Patience." Draco took his opposite's lips swiftly and silently like he always did, just because it knocked Potter off guard. Potter---with the force, the violence, and the bruising tastes---was counterbalanced by Draco's elegant touches, his casual caresses, and soft tastes. Potter moaned hotly into his mouth and let his head fall back so Draco could nibble the smooth line of his neck.

"Malfoy . . . mmm . . . mmm . . . like that . . . yeah . . ."

"Your vocabulary astounds me, Potter," Draco smirked into his neck. He used his skillful tongue to trace the tendons of said neck and earned an extra moan from the Chosen One when he began to swirl it around. "God, Potter, you have no idea . . . I want you to hurt me."

The other boy pulled back and quirked an eyebrow at what he had just heard. No, pain was nothing new to their exploits, but he was more surprised at what Draco started to say before. "What don't I have an idea about?"

Draco frowned at the fact that Potter caught that. "I was simply going to say that you have no idea what I want to do to you, then I remembered all the things I want you to do to me, so I changed the subject."

Draco gasped when the other boy reached out and pulled him flushed against his hot, hard body.

"You're going to get extra spankings for lying to me," the boy breathed into his ear.

"Okay." He cringed at the simpleton answer, but suddenly forgot all about it when Potter twisted him around and forced him to lean over the desk with his hands flat against the surface. He yelped when once again his pants were yanked fiercely down his body but made no protest. This was exactly what he wanted.

"You are so fucking sexy, Malfoy. Did you know that?" Potter groaned into his ear.

He answered without missing a beat. "Yes."

A loud resounding slap echoed throughout the room.

"That was for your smart mouth, Malfoy. What else should you be punished for?"

Draco refused to answer, anything he said would be taken as an insult and he would have a harder spanking. On the other hand, wasn't that the point? "Punished? The only thing I should be punished for is fucking your half-blooded ass."

He heard a low growl from deep in Potter's throat a moment before another loud slap echoed and a hit so hard that it summoned his erection back.

"Are you whimpering, Malfoy, you little bitch?" Potter crooned into his ear, his tongue darting out to caress the pale skin he openly admired.

Was Draco whimpering? He didn't think so, but he locked his jaw to prevent it anyway and leaned back into Potter as the other boys licks soon traveled to his neck. "No love bites, Potter. I don't want people to see them on my neck."

"Shove it, Malfoy," came the quick response, followed by a harsh bite that was soon soothed by a swirling tongue. "I know a spell."

"What spell?" he asked softly, trying not to yelp when he felt his enemy's fingers slip into him.

"Something Hermoine showed me."

"And what's the name of the Mudblood's spell?"

That statement earned him an extra hard smack on already red cheeks. "I can't remember."

How can his voice be so calm with all that's happening? Draco shook the question from his head and came up with a quick smart aleck reply. "How can you perform the spell without knowing what it is, Potter, you moron?"

"Because, Malfoy, you wanker, I know the damn spell!" Potter snapped, his voice suddenly very serious as his fingers probed higher and harder into Draco's pliable flesh. "Now lean on your elbows for me . . . There now, that's a good boy."

Draco's body shook with both anger at Potter's ability to reduce him to the role of a dog and the fact that he really wanted Potter shoved hot and tight inside of him. "Do it, Potter!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Draco heard the rustle of clothing behind him and the distinct sound of a zipper, then heard a muttered "Slikio" before he felt warm liquid seeping into his body.

"Do it, Potter!"

"Are you begging for it?"

"Yes!"

Potter rammed into him hard. He felt his heart stop and start again with each hard thrust Potter administered and even though he felt he would die from the pain---and the pleasure---he still begged for more.

"How could I possibly have gone two weeks without this?" Potter groaned into his ear before almost breaking the pale skin of Draco's neck with his teeth. "You're so fucking hot! Meet me tomorrow. Promise!"

"I-I-I . . . p-p-p-pro-promise," Draco gasped, leaning his head against the desk as Potter continued to pound away at his sweet, defenseless little ass. "I promise."

"Mmm, Draco," Potter moaned as he lifted up the other boy's leg and set a pale knee against the desk, just to thrust into him at a better angle. "Does that feel good?"

"Y-y-yes," Draco cried out, trying to find something, anything that his hands could grip onto, but Potter grabbed each wrist and pinned them to the table.

"Does it hurt? Does it hurt like you like it?"

"Y-y-yeah! Oh, God . . . P-Potter!"

"Are you coming, you nasty bitch?!" Potter snarled, releasing one of Draco's wrists and bringing his hand up to tug harshly at the blonde's hair. "Come, you fucking slut! Come right now or I'm beating the shit out of you!"

And as if Potter had just growled the magic words into his counterpart's ear, Draco felt his knees buckle and his load suddenly shooting out of him. Potter reached down and captured Draco's balls in his hand, squeezing them tight as the boy rode out his orgasm.

"Beg for mercy!"

"Mercy!"

"Scream for mercy, bitch!"

"M-m-mercy!" Draco screamed when it all became too much. He felt Potter's smile of satisfaction against his neck as the Chosen One began to spasm inside of him. Potter tucked his hand under Draco's chin and turned the boy's head so that their lips could meet.

"That was good."

"Yes, it was," Draco agreed as the Gryffindor slipped out of him. His body suddenly felt as if it lacked something. "We're meeting tomorrow then?"

Potter nodded and lifted his wand to clean himself before slipping his trousers back up.

"A little help here, Potter," Draco snapped, seeing as the majority of the mess was on his body.

"Oh, yeah." The dark-haired boy waved his wand silently in Draco's direction and the other boy was suddenly cleansed---inside and out.

"Thanks," Draco said, pulling up his own pants and walking back to the wall where Potter had ripped his shirt off. They silently got themselves back in order, avoiding eye contact as always, and---also as always---Potter was the first to make the move to leave, but this time, almost reluctantly. Draco watched the dark-haired boy's retreating back curiously as he caressed a sore spot on his neck.

"Hey Potter!"

The other boy stopped immediately and turned to face him. "Yeah?"

"Er . . . Aren't you going to do the spell to clear up this love bite?"

Potter smiled sheepishly, and that alone almost made Draco's already weak knees buckle again. "Actually, about that spell . . ."

"What about it?" snapped the pale boy, just knowing that he was not going to get an answer he liked.

"I forgot it."

And with that, the Chosen One turned briskly on his heel, gave a dramatic twirl of his father's cloak, and disappeared into the dark corridor.


Author's Note: Be harsh, be mean, be whatever. But please, just be honest. And tell me if I used too many commas. I always use too many commas! Thanks! DMH