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Secrets & Lies	By : Digitallace Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 14570 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with the fandom, nor do I get paid to write or post this work.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Author's Note: Hooray for the return of one of my oldest beta's, Shannon and thanks to everyone who has been patiently waiting and reviewing.

Chapter 11

A sterling silver candelabra crashed to the marble floor the moment Draco arrived back to the manor, thrown to the ground in a fit of rage along with several other pieces cluttering the side table nearest to him. The back of his head hit the wall with a dull thud as he sank slowly to the ground amongst the items that bore the brunt of his frustration.

"What the hell was I thinking?" he muttered to himself in the still dark foyer.

The night had gone splendidly. Potter had been appropriately charming and mysterious, his emerald gaze persistently enchanting and his sense of humor was a perfect fit against Draco's own dry musings. He'd never smiled so much on any date as he had that night, and he'd never been kissed as if his very soul was being captured through the act. So what was the problem?

He felt his body tremble and growled with renewed anger, forcing himself to stand and shake it off. Malfoys weren't so easily spooked, especially not by the mere kiss of a Gryffindor. Squaring his shoulders, Draco set off to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink, letting the spicy liquor burn away all remnants of Potter's taste. "He's dating the Weasley girl," he muttered. "It never would have worked out."

Slowly the fear in his veins began to ebb and the cool will of his Malfoy blood resumed its place, pumping his heart more evenly than his erratic feelings for Potter ever had. But just when he'd lulled himself into a state of stoic confidence that nothing had changed and that he was still the same unaffected man he'd been that morning, he felt a shift in the wards followed quickly by a pounding at his front door.

"Buggering fuck."

He debated not answering, letting the new arrival pound his fist bloody. He knew who it was, who it must be, and dreaded that little confrontation. Though Potter deserved to know what had happened, Draco certainly wasn't about to tell him that their kiss has scared the Hippogriffs out of him. The only way out of this now was to warn the prat off, so, drink in hand, Draco marched over and yanked open the door, smirking as Potter nearly fell forward when his fist hit clear air.

"Can I help you?" he drawled elegantly, his face giving nothing away. "It's late. Any requests for charitable donations should be taken up with my assistant in the morning."

Harry merely glared at him, those haunting eyes glimmering like a cursed amulet. "Fuck you, Malfoy," he growled at last.

"Always so eloquent. I'm amazed you haven't risen to Minister yet with such clever retorts as those," he quipped, keeping his body firmly placed in the area he'd left open in the doorway, not budging an inch in his attempts to keep Potter outside. "You should go. It's late," he repeated.

"I know exactly how late it is, Malfoy," Harry spat. "We were together just a few minutes ago and I knew what time it was then as well."

"Was that you?" Draco mused, lips forming a terrible sneer as he saw Harry's rage falter, exposing just a hint of injury before his face closed down altogether.

A harsh huff of laughter escaped Potter's lips, completely devoid of amusement. "I shouldn't be surprised. I knew the likeliness that this was all just a big game to you."

"And yet you still participated," Draco mocked cruelly. "Why is that?"

Harry's Adam's Apple bobbed enticingly as he swallowed once and shook his head wryly. "I guess you'll never know," he whispered, before turning abruptly and walking away. Draco's eyes followed his form as it walked the gravel path leading to the vast gate at the end. It took all his strength not to call out, beg him to come back. Thankfully as his self control waned and desire won out, Harry disappeared in a swirl of darkness as magic wrapped around him and Disapparated him back to his home, a pub, or wherever the hell Potter went when evil little gits were too afraid to tell him the truth.

Draco remained in the doorway a long time after. He wasn't even sure how long he'd stared at the spot where Harry left before he finally pulled himself inside and slammed the door with a sense of brooding finality.

A frightful wind whipped at Harry's dark locks as he stood on a vast cliff overlooking a narrow strip of shore. Shell Cottage could be seen in the distance, one light on where Harry knew Bill was probably pouring over the Gringott's paperwork he'd brought home with him. He knew Bill was happy, and for a moment Harry tried to insert himself into that life. He imagined sitting in a quiet study while Ginny slept, their children dreaming in another room down the hall and shuddered.

It seemed cold up there all year long, even in the height of summer Harry caught a chill when he came to visit Dobby's grave. He sank into the grass, idly pushing the blades back where they'd begun to overtake the small headstone. Harry meant to trade the makeshift rock out once the war was over, replace it with a proper monument, but he could never muster the willpower to take away the stone that now seemed so symbolic to his life, to his victory. Besides, Harry had a feeling Dobby would have liked the small tribute, and probably would have made it seem as though they'd erected a vast statue in his honor instead of a measly carved boulder.

The thought of it made him smile. Dobby had always been so easy to please. Why couldn't anyone else in his life be that way? Why did all the others make it so difficult? Ginny craved so much from him it often left him exhausted and he found it harder and harder to imagine submitting himself to that every day. It might be worth it if he got something in return, in fact, he knew it would be, but all she ever did was take until he was a wisp of himself. Not that he could exactly blame her. He could have fought with her, raged at her, told her that he thought she was taking advantage. That he thought she didn't love him at all.

The silent arguments he had in his mind always ended with that, and he always asked himself what it mattered so long as he loved her. Because he did. Or at least he had. Now he wasn't so certain. Which, as was true for many things in his life, was all Malfoy's fault.

Not even when he first began to crush on Ginny Weasley had he ever felt anything as potent as he had tonight for that Slytherin bastard. His lips still tingled where they'd touched Malfoy's and his body still hummed in response to him, which was infuriating since the arsehole had left him standing there like a love struck idiot in the middle of London and then tossed it all back in his face moments later.

He'd been a fool. Of course Malfoy had been playing games this entire time. Why else would he even begin to feign interest in someone like Harry? Even first generation Purebloods were inferior to Malfoy's kind. The bigoted thought had him fisting the grass and he had to calm himself before he ruined Dobby's poor gravesite.

"I thought I'd find you here," called a soft voice from behind him, and Harry knew without looking that it was Hermione.

"Just doing a little landscaping," he muttered, tearing out a few weeds and tossing them over the cliff's edge.

"Dobby's lucky to have such a tender groundskeeper," she mused as she joined him on the grassy knoll. The sounds of the ocean filled the silence between them, waves lapping at the shore below in a calming ebb and flow. "What happened tonight?" she asked, breaking the pregnant pause that seemed to cling to Harry's skin.

"I fucked up," Harry admitted without hesitation, putting on his strict Auror face. "I allowed myself to get too confident. I let the target get the upper hand and it cost me."

"You kissed him."

The words hung in the air, stinging at the corners of Harry's eyes. They weren't harsh or judgmental, just a stated fact with an edge of sympathy laced within.

"I kissed him," Harry repeated, the sound of it foreign to his own ears. "And he left. He was playing me the whole time," he sighed. "Hell, he might even know why I was sent to him in the first place. It's my own fault, really. I was careless."

"Not everything is your burden to bear, Harry," she sniped, sounding churlish over his admission. "You're just a man."

"I'm Harry Potter," he bit out. "Or hadn't you heard? I'm supposed to be perfect. I'm supposed to be one step ahead at all times. I'm supposed to get the bad guys, not the other way around."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. "You're just a man," she repeated gently.

"I'm an idiot," Harry muttered sullenly, wishing he could rub out the pain that flexed his heart.

"That too," Hermione teased, clearly ignoring his scowl. "You could have told me that you had genuine feelings for him, you know."

Scoffing, Harry turned toward her for the first time. "How could I do that when I could hardly admit it to myself?"

"Fair point," she sighed, leaning against his shoulder. "No one would fault you this, Harry. I mean, being gay and all."

Harry gave a scoffing laugh. "I think Ginny might have something to contradict that." He didn't even want to mention aloud the fit that Ron would have if he discovered Harry's secret.

"Well, one person maybe," she amended with a wince. "Still, even she would get over it. Ron, too." She always knew what he was thinking and he both loved and hated that about her.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Harry sighed, leaning more heavily against his friend. "It was mental of me to think, for even a second, that Draco Malfoy was a human being. He doesn't want me. He never did."

"Perhaps," Hermione reasoned. "Or maybe this was all supposed to happen this way so you could come to terms with what you really want. Malfoy isn't the only gay wizard in the world, Harry. Not even the only one in London."

"I know," he sighed, hating that he wished Hermione would encourage him to chase after Draco if that's who he really wanted, but he knew she was right. She always was. "I need to break up with Ginny."

"For starters," Hermione agreed. "Just…be gentle. I know she's been a bit trying lately, but she has to know, on some level, that you can't offer the kind of life you'd both hoped. I'm sure she's just trying to make things work the way she thinks they should because she doesn't know what else to do."

"Maybe," he muttered tiredly.

Her hand clasped his arm and squeezed lightly. "Everything will be alright, Harry. You'll see. One day you might even want to thank Malfoy." Her voice trailed off for only a second before she laughed, short and almost hysterical. "Okay, maybe that's pushing it, but I really do think this was a sort of blessing in disguise, Harry."

Harry didn't have the energy to argue, so he merely nodded. "I need sleep," he whispered, even though he knew it wouldn't come to him tonight. "Can I stay at your place? I can't face Ginny right now."

Hermione shifted to get up, offering her hand to help him up once she was standing. "Of course. Although…you might want to Owl her and tell her you're not coming home tonight, so that she doesn't worry."

"Ah, but she should be worried," he muttered in response. "Tomorrow her entire world shatters." Just like mine did tonight, he thought to himself.

"Well, that's certainly not conceited at all. Give her a little credit, Harry. Ginny's a strong and capable woman. She'll be fine," Hermione chastised.

Harry's chest heaved with a sigh and he nodded. "You're right. I'm the only one that's damaged here. She'll spring back up and likely marry someone that could give her ten times the life I could have."

"It's all for the best, Harry," Hermione comforted, holding him to her. "You'll see that eventually. Please try not to be so melancholy over it. Malfoy's an idiot if he couldn't see what a catch you are. Someone else will."

And that's when Harry fully realized how utterly lonely he was. "I hope so," he whispered to himself as he allowed Hermione to lead them away from the cliff and back toward the winding road where they could safely Apparate.

Ron didn't ask any questions when Harry followed Hermione through the front door and Harry was thankful for that. Ron stared at him for a long moment before nodding curtly. "You know where the guest room is, Harry," Hermione was saying, breaking the silent staring contest as she gestured down the hall. "Are you hungry at all?"

"No." He shook his dark head and offered a sad smile. "I don't think I could eat. If it's okay, I think I'll just go to bed."

"Of course, Harry," she replied, nodding solemnly as she sat down next to Ron. "Let us know if you need anything."

With a nod, Harry padded back to the guest room and quietly shut the door behind him before leaning back against the cool wood. He'd certainly gone and fucked everything up now. It would be lovely if he could blame it all on Malfoy, or even Fledgecraft, but the truth was that all the terrible things that had happened over that last few weeks had been entirely his fault.

He could have flatly refused Fledgecraft when he'd issued his barbaric demands. He should have heeded Kingsley's advice and kept things strictly professional and then he wouldn't be here, in his friends' flat, wondering if he would ever get the opportunity to taste Draco's sweet lips again. Malfoy, he reminded himself. First names are for friends, family and lovers and Draco Malfoy falls into none of those categories.

And now he had quite the mess on his hands. He had to break things off with Ginny and make her move out, which might be the most difficult thing he'd done since killing the world's most powerful wizard. Then he had to confess his reasons to Ron and his family – easily the second hardest thing. And then…well, Harry had no idea what to do after that. Should he start dating? That seemed a daunting task and made him feel a bit ill just to think about it. He shuddered to think what the media would do with this new revelation.

Sneering and tired, Harry pulled off his jumper and tossed it aside, pulling back the flowery bedspread before shimmying out of his trousers and slinking beneath the coverlet. The bed was warm and smelled of magnolias, making him wonder what Malfoy's linens smelled like. Spicy, he wagered, like his skin. Vanilla and nutmeg with a hint of something soft like worn silk. Gods he was pathetic. Right this moment Malfoy was probably regaling his friends about the laughable way Harry Potter fell for him and here he was, lying alone in an unfamiliar bed and fondly recalling the way Malfoy smelled.

It wasn't fair.

Then he heard raised voices from the other room and felt a wave of panic. He guessed what happened at once. Ron likely persisted to know what Harry was doing there and Hermione felt obliged to tell him. Either she only informed him that Harry was leaving Ginny, or she told him everything. He doubted Hermione would do that, but wondered for a moment how cowardly it was that he almost wished she had. It would make things so much easier if he never had to have that conversation with Ron.

When the voices grew louder and perhaps a bit closer, Harry scrambled out of bed and got dressed. He didn't want to have this fight half naked. He didn't want to have this fight at all. His eyes trailed from the door to the window, back and forth several times. He could leave now, let them argue about it on their own tonight and see them tomorrow. But where would he go? Not home, surely. Not Malfoy's. Or he could stay and listen to Ron berate him about his abominable feelings and the way he was leaving his little sister on top of everything else that had happened tonight.

He dove for the window.

The latch was stuck, but a quick lubrication charm fixed it and soon he was through, cursing as the rosebush outside tore his skin and jumper. Shaking it off, he leapt to his feet and with one last glance back at his friends' cozy little home, he Disapparated into the heart of London.

Harry wandered the streets for a long time, feeling guilt and relief wash over him in equal parts along his journey. He'd never run from anything in his life before now, but somehow this all seemed so much bigger than a looming war or a madman determined to destroy the world.

Okay. So, he was exaggerating, but this was easily more humiliating than anything that had happened to him before. Shouldn't he have recognized his sexuality long before now? And to have it all burst forth with Malfoy of all people was just the icing on a very twisted cake.

Looking up he saw a heavy wooden sign dangling overhead advertising The Enchanted Dragon's Pub. It seemed to shimmer out of existence when he didn't look at it directly, and he knew it had to be a magical establishment, though he'd never been there, and suddenly he felt quite parched.

It was far too late, or rather early, for a normal pub to still be open, but when Harry pushed inside there were a handful of people sitting about and staring into their half-full glasses. It seemed a brilliant pastime to Harry, so he pulled a stool up to the bar and joined them. The place was poorly lit, smelled vaguely of old oats and all the surfaces had a sticky sheen to them. Just the kind of place for him and his massive pity party.

None of the patrons spoke to him or even looked his way, even the bartender seemed reluctant to spend more time with him than the few minutes it took to hand Harry his drink and take his money. It was blessedly quiet until he heard a sadistic laugh from the corner. His eyes trained on the noise automatically, coming from a booth in a dark alcove. Still, no amount of dimness could blanch out the color of such a shockingly blond head of hair.

Harry groaned as he realized how right he'd been earlier than night. There sat Draco across from what looked like Blaise Zabini and the darker man was coughing from laughing so hard. It wouldn't be long now before all of Wizarding Europe knew that Harry Potter was a bloody pouf who was inexplicably smitten with his arch nemesis.

Author's Note: I got an invitation to the pity party, did you? He's registered at Quality Quidditch if anyone was curious.
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