The Struggles of a Secret

Harry thought that it was funny, hilarious even, that no one had yet to see through the farce that they put up, the charade that they had chosen to indulge themselves in since the end of their very first year. Everyone thought that they were mortal enemies, but that was the farthest thing from the truth, a fact that he was constantly reminded of when his love complained of the horribly interfering and obnoxious hoard of redheads. He would be the first to admit that he didn't exactly know how it all started, just that the feelings that he'd harbored had festered and boiled under the mask that he wore until they exploded and he'd had to act upon them.

He'd surprised not only himself, but his crush as well, a one, Draco Malfoy, when he'd snagged the unsuspecting Slytherin from the deserted corridor and into the dark alcove that he'd taken to waiting in. He had then proceeded to place a sloppy and inexperienced kiss upon the surprised and shocked boy's lips.

Harry had been roughly shoved away and pinned against the wall, a wand pointed threateningly at his nose and ordered to explain himself under the threat of a hex—and for the life of him he couldn't remember which hex it was, as it had been nearly seven years since then. Harry, of course, knew that he couldn't explain himself, as he didn't understand it any better than the befuddled, but still extremely handsome boy holding him against the wall, and told the Slytherin as much. He'd had to repeat himself two more times before Draco had backed off with one more threat of hexing and a jab in the cheek from his wand.

It had been another few weeks before Harry had any more encounters with Draco. They'd had only three more weeks of school, and while Harry hadn't forgotten his feelings for the Slytherin, he'd been quite preoccupied with the whole Sorcerer's-Stone-Being-Hidden-In-The-School-And-Snape-Trying-To-Get-It fiasco. He'd spent countless hours with Ron and Hermione doing research of and about the stone, Nicholas Flamel, and Hagrid's dog Fluffy.

He'd been grabbed in a manner similar to what he'd done and was dragged into a very familiar alcove. Before he had known it, he was shoved up against the wall, lips of the Slytherin blonde crushed against his in a much more experienced kiss than his had been. Harry kissed back eagerly, clutching at the black and green robes. Once they'd released each other for much needed air, Draco had laid down some rules.

"Alright, if we're going to do this, Potter, then we're going to do it my way," he'd hissed in his classmate's ear. "We're going to go on as we have in front of the others, pretending that we hate each other, and yet when we're alone, you will belong to me and no other, agreed?" Harry had nodded eagerly in agreement. No one would have understood or accepted their relationship at that point.

"Alright, but while we're alone you have to call me by my first name, Draco," it was the only thing that he'd demanded and he'd smirked as he felt a shiver run down the Slytherin's body.

That's how their romance had started. When Draco had become the Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team in the beginning of their second year, Harry had been inexplicably excited. It was a chance to further their rivalry façade and their secret relationship at the same time. Their matches always seemed to be a dance, one doing a move and the other the counter move. They'd had a rough spot, when Draco had called Hermione a Mudblood, and Harry had avoided Draco for almost two months after that—through his learning of being a Parselmouth at the dueling club that the idiot Lockhart had started and when he, Ron and Hermione had used the Polyjuice Potion—before Draco had begrudgingly apologized. Throughout the years, they would steal away for snogging sessions.

Draco had been the one that Harry had leaned on even more than his Gryffindor friends when he'd learned the truth about Sirius Black and his parents in third year, the one that he went to when his emotions got too much for him and the one he ranted to. In their fourth year, Draco had ignored all of Harry's explanations about how his name had gotten into the Goblet of Fire and ignored him until well into the year. He had even gone so far as to make the famous "Potter Stinks" badges. It was close to the first task when Harry had been pissed off enough to confront Draco. The Slytherin had hardly listened, and Harry would never forget that Slytherins held grudges like no other.

"Fine," Harry had said in a resigned tone of voice, "if you won't listen to me, what does it matter? I probably won't live through the first task anyway. I mean, dragons, really, I can only hope that the obscene luck that you claim I have doesn't run out when I do face it, though."

Draco's eyes had widened comically at his statement. "Dragons?" he squeaked out in an undignified manner. He'd had no trouble believing Harry after watching the first task.

Their fifth year was a little more difficult than previous years, as Umbridge had taken over the school and terrorized the students. And since Draco was placed on the Inquisitorial Squad and a forced supporter of her—his father telling him to support her in his letters for good graces—they'd broken it off for quite a few months, but that was just fine with both of them, as neither wanted to have to pretend to be hated enemies more than they already did.

Sixth year was when it started getting bad. Since they'd called it off the previous year, Harry knew that Draco had sort of hit a downward slope. With pressure from his father and aunt to join Lord Voldemort's cause and to get the dark mark permanently placed upon his skin, he'd fallen into a depression. They had gotten into the staged fight in Myrtle's bathroom, where Harry had accidentally hurt Draco very badly and there had been the whole fiasco with him and Ginny, though it hadn't lasted long, and Harry had told him one time that they did happen to meet alone that it would never happen again. Though just when Harry had thought that things had gotten as bad as they could Murphy's Law had thrown both of them for another loop. Draco had been ordered to kill Dumbledore; the single most amazing wizard that Harry knew both of them had ever known; one that both of them respected and would forever respect.

Draco hadn't been able to do it of course, and it was left for Snape to do it. The year following, which would have been their seventh year was even more terrible. While Harry had been gallivanting around England searching for the Horcruxes, Draco had been even more stressed out at the manor than he'd been the previous year—he'd told Harry the whole story later. The Death Eaters and the Dark Lord were rising again. He'd been branded with The Dark Mark on his inner forearm and nearly broke down into a catatonic state whenever he laid eyes on it.

Only his mother had noticed his behavior, that he was sullen and that the only thing that the war was doing to him was ruining him. When she'd confronted him about it, he'd finally broken down and confessed to her. He told her all about his affair with The-Boy-Who-Lived, about his fears, his hate, and his hopes. He began from when they'd first met, his botched friendship attempt, and then told her about when Harry had pulled him into that alcove, and when he'd returned the favor.

He told her about their fake rivalry and hatred towards each other, their game, the one that they shared only with each other and where no other was privy. He told her of when Harry had informed him of Sirius Black, of when he'd worried over his love during the Triwizard Tournament, and finally of their break up during fifth year.

She had listened to him quietly, comforting him as tears streamed down his face and his shoulders wracked with suppressed sobs. When he'd finished, she had given him the greatest piece of advice that he had ever gotten.

"Draco, my beloved son, never forget this love that you hold inside of you," she told him, placing a hand on his chest, over his heart, "for it is the most powerful magic that you will ever know—an ancient form of magic. If you hold onto that, and believe in it, you can do anything."

It wasn't until the fight that broke out in Hogwarts that Harry saw Draco again. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that the Death Eaters were outmatched. Draco had told Harry that he'd watched in awe as he had fought majestically against the Dark Lord; that his distracted gaze had almost cost him his life before he returned a curse at the Death Eater who shot it.

Once Harry had vanquished Voldemort with a simple Expelliarmus the Death Eaters and Dark Lord supporters fled. It had been quiet for a moment before it erupted into cheers of victory. The crowd who had lived through the war, who stood on the side of The-Boy-Who-Lived, instantly rushed at their savior, who had managed to now become The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice and vanquished the Dark Lord as many times. Draco had stood off to the side with his parents, his father looking haggard, but relieved nonetheless, and his mother practically ecstatic at the prospect of peace—finally—after nearly two decades.

His mother had leaned up to his ear and whispered, "Remember, Draco, and never forget. Believe, and you will never be disappointed." He had smiled down at her, but was reluctant to believe her this time around.

It had been a faceless crowd that surrounded him. Harry neither cared who was who, or who said had what. The Dark Lord was dead; He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; Voldemort. It wasn't over, not by a long shot, as countless Death Eaters had escaped, but it was a start. Harry was jostled around from all of the congratulations, the cheers, the pats on the back. He hadn't cared much for celebrating the victory. He looked around, past the crowd and saw the one that he really wanted to see, who he hadn't seen in almost a year. Green clashed with grey and the stare held.

Draco had broken the stare first and turned to his mother. The crowd around Harry had started to dissipate, finally the euphoria had started to leave, and they began to take care of the wounded and mourn for those who had passed and Harry took a chance to finally mourn for the fallen house elf, Dobby, and his owl, Hedwig. Harry didn't spare a glance around as he left, making his way out of the castle and towards the large tree that stood near the edge of the lake. It was getting dark; the western horizon had been tinted slightly pink with the sinking sun.

That had been when he and Draco had reconnected; when they'd finally become lovers, consummating all of their pent up emotions, their longing and their love in that one night. Words were whispered into the night of love and adoration.

"Gods, missed you, love you, love you, love you," Draco had whispered to him, emphasizing his statements with kisses and Harry had responded in kind, with words of equal love and longing. Draco had even shed a few tears when Harry had lovingly kissed the Dark Mark upon his arm, and instead of the burning sensation that he normally associated with the Mark, he'd felt tingly and warm and comfortable, and beyond all of that, loved. Harry had shed a few of his own tears over the scars left on Draco's chest and arms from his Sectumsempra curse and was finally able to mourn over them.

The school had been undergoing repairs for the rest of the summer and was once again opened in September for those who wished to return, to which a surprisingly large number did in fact, return, Harry, Draco, Hermione and Ron being some of the few. They wanted to graduate from one of the best wizarding schools on the Earth (and Mars as well). Technically, since most of them were eighteen, they considered themselves to be 'eighth years,' though to everyone else they were the seventh years, finishing the year that had been taken from them when the school closed.

Harry lay upon the bed that the Room of Requirement had conjured up, waiting for his lover to appear. Since they'd been back to school, they had picked up where they'd left off from fifth year. He lifted his head from the pillow he'd been resting it on and turned it towards the door that creaked open, his lover having finally made his appearance. Harry grinned up at him and beckoned him towards the bed.

"Took you long enough, git," Harry complained teasingly, sitting up on the bed to sit cross legged and moving closer to the edge.

Draco huffed and stuck his nose in the air. "As if that matters, Potter," Draco sneered. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Harry's grin broadened and he motioned Draco closer to the bed again. "You have too many clothes on," he commented, working on getting Draco's cloak off, followed by his tie and shirt.

"Says the man sitting in his boxers," Draco scoffed, but put up no resistance as Harry divested him of his clothes. It was another game of theirs, teasing comments and biting words that were ignored because they lacked the heat that made them effective.

Harry looked down on his green and black plaid boxers. "You know you like seeing me in these. The ones that you've said were your favorite on me."

Draco smirked and moved to straddle his lover, clad only in his black silk boxers. "That's because they used to be mine, until you stole them from me," he admonished, running his hands up Harry's chest to rest on his shoulders. Harry looked up at the Slytherin—who was two or three inches taller than he himself—and rested his hands on the pale waist of his lover. He leaned up and kissed the underside of Draco's chin, trailing his lips along the pale jaw. Draco shivered at the soft touches and groaned quietly, tilting his head down to seal his lips over Harry's.

Harry pulled back slightly, not enough to disconnect their lips, but enough to allow Draco to release a disgruntled noise at being unable to further the kiss. Harry grinned cheekily and chuckled softly. "And you're never getting them back," he whispered.

Draco's answering shiver was violent. He pushed Harry back onto the bed and snogged him for all he was worth. He maneuvered them over to the middle of the bed and sat back up. He looked down at his lover and rolled his hips, grinding their erections together. Both released simultaneous groans of need.

"Dray," Harry whimpered, "I'm not gunna last." They made love well into the night and lay cuddling when they were too exhausted to continue. Harry lay draped over Draco's chest, nuzzling his face into his neck and breathing in the scent that was distinctly Draco.

Draco ran his hands up and down Harry's back, lethargic and just content to lay and do nothing. "You ever thin' tha' maybe we shouldn' hide an'more?" he questioned tiredly, his words slurring in his lethargy, turning his head to catch a glimpse of Harry's half closed green eyes. "The war 's over now an' 's not like m' father can do an'thin' 'bout it now."

Harry nodded into Draco's neck and sighed. "Yeah, I've though' 'bout it. Wha' d'you wanna do 'bout it?" he countered.

"Dun'know," Draco mumbled in response. "Jus' don' wanna hide an'more."

Harry nodded again and said, "Let's not worry 'bout it now. Jus' deal with it in the morning."

They slept until halfway through breakfast. They went through their morning waking rituals before resigning themselves to getting out of bed. They made a quick stop at the prefect's bathroom, where Harry had to stop Draco from engaging them in another session, though Draco did allow Harry to shave him the Muggle way, a secret pleasure of Harry's. They walked towards the Great Hall together, passing the occasional student, who gave them disbelieving looks. They stopped in front of the double doors that led to the Great Hall and glanced at each other. Harry gave Draco a reassuring smile before grabbing his hand and interlacing their fingers. Draco smirked back and pushed the doors open.

They walked into the Great Hall and at first, garnered no attention, but as those who had turned to look at who entered quickly spread the word around that Gryffindor's Golden Boy and Slytherin's Silver Snake had entered together and were holding hands. They both ignored the attention and turned to each other. Harry leaned up and planted a chaste kiss on the blonde's lips and stepped back. Draco brought up their entwined hands and kissed Harry's knuckles. There was a distinct 'thump' that reverberated throughout the quiet hall. Both turned towards the Gryffindor table to see that Ron had fainted and fallen backwards off of the bench. Hermione was bent over him, trying to coax him awake. Harry and Draco chuckled before turning back to each other.

"See you in Potions?" Harry asked quietly.

"You know it," Draco answered, giving Harry one last kiss before heading over to his own house table. Harry smiled and made his way towards the empty seat across from Hermione and the fallen Ron.

"Morning, guys," Harry said casually, picking up an apple and munching on it. A groan originating from somewhere near the floor was his answer and two seconds later, the lanky redhead was back in his seat with his worried girlfriend fawning over his slight injuries.

"Harry, I just had the most frightening dream," the redhead whimpered. "I saw you k-kissing the ferret."

"It wasn't a dream, Ron," Harry told him.

Ron's eyes widened comically. "H-Harry. You're joking, right, mate? I mean, I knew that you swung that way, but Malfoy?!" he demanded. Harry nodded and took another bite of his apple.

"How long, Harry?" Hermione asked curiously.

Harry thought back; it would be too complicated to explain the whole story to them at breakfast, as it would take too long to explain, so he settled for, "Since the end of first year." Ron's eyes widened even more and his jaw dropped. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted again, falling off of the bench and landing with another 'thump.' Harry chuckled and smiled at his friend's reaction. Hermione began to attempt to revive her boyfriend again.

She looked up at Harry and gave up her attempts to wake Ron. "You know we'll always support you, Harry. And if Ron doesn't come around, then I will convince him otherwise," she said with an evil glint in her eye.

Harry laughed and said, "Geez 'Mione, maybe you should have been in Slytherin with that evil thinking of yours." Hermione only smiled sweetly at him. Harry looked past her towards the Slytherin table. He caught his lover's eyes and gave him a grin. He received the blonde's trademark smirk in return and just knew that as long as he believed, everything would be okay, and they'd be able to do anything while together.


Thank you for taking the time to read my fic! Oh, the Mars comment is from A Very Potter Musical on YouTube. You should go watch it! Review please!