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Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were very, very bad at keeping secrets.
Which was unfortunate, because they were also very, very determined to keep this one.
It began quietly, the way most dangerous things did.
The war was over, Hogwarts was full again, and the castle felt strange in a way no one quite knew how to name. Students laughed in the corridors, studied in the common rooms, complained about homework like the world hadn’t nearly ended. Harry was sitting by the fire one evening, pretending to read a book he hadn’t turned a page of in ten minutes, when Draco Malfoy dropped onto the couch beside him like he’d always belonged there.
“You’re in my spot,” Draco said.
Harry didn’t look up. “You don’t have a spot.”
Draco leaned closer, close enough that Harry could feel the warmth of him. “I do. It’s wherever you are.”
Harry choked on his tea and shot him a look, but Draco was already smirking, eyes bright with trouble.
Later that night, in a quiet corridor near the library where the torches burned low and the shadows stretched long, Harry kissed Draco first.
They both froze afterward, staring at each other like they’d just set off a spell neither of them knew how to undo.
Nothing exploded. The world didn’t end.
So they made an agreement.
“This stays secret,” Draco said, crossing his arms like he was drawing a line in the air. “I don’t need the entire school watching me breathe.”
“Agreed,” Harry replied. “I already get enough of that.”
They shook on it, both pretending they were the kind of people who could keep something like this hidden.
They were not.
They told themselves they were subtle.
Harry only sat next to Draco in class. Not too close. Just close enough that their elbows brushed when they wrote notes. Draco only fixed Harry’s crooked tie in the mornings. Not every morning. Just most of them.
They met in empty classrooms, quiet corridors, and once in the Room of Requirement, which seemed to take great pleasure in providing soft lighting and comfortable furniture.
“This room is absolutely judging us,” Harry muttered, glancing around.
Draco looked at the plush chairs and low lamplight. “Good. It should feel honored.”
They didn’t hold hands in public. They just walked so close together their shoulders touched every few steps.
Hermione noticed almost immediately.
“You’re acting strange,” she told Harry in the library, peering at him over the top of a stack of books.
Harry blinked. “I act strange all the time.”
“You defended Malfoy in Charms.”
“He was right.”
“You never say that.”
Harry glanced down at the book in his hands and realized it was upside down.
Meanwhile, Ron noticed something else entirely.
“Why does Malfoy look like he’s about to hex anyone who talks to you?” he muttered at lunch.
Harry followed Ron’s gaze and saw Draco across the Great Hall, glaring at a Ravenclaw who’d laughed at one of Harry’s jokes like the poor bloke had committed a personal crime.
Harry kicked Ron under the table. “Mind your business.”
Ron squinted at him. “You’re being suspicious.”
The first near-disaster happened in Hogsmeade.
Harry and Draco had ducked behind the Three Broomsticks to escape the cold, Draco’s scarf wrapped around Harry’s neck because Harry had forgotten his own again.
“You’re useless,” Draco said, tugging the scarf tighter.
“And you like fixing me,” Harry replied, smiling.
Draco leaned in, their foreheads almost touching.
“Oi!”
They sprang apart like they’d been hit with a Stunning Spell.
Ginny stood there, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised so high it nearly disappeared into her hairline.
“You two,” she said slowly, “were definitely about to kiss.”
“No,” Harry said too fast.
“Yes,” Draco said at the exact same time.
Harry stared at him.
Draco winced. “I mean—no.”
Ginny just smirked. “I’m not stupid. I’m just patient.”
She absolutely told Hermione.
The secret didn’t fall apart in whispers or quiet confrontations.
It fell apart spectacularly.
It happened during a Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match. The stands were packed, the air buzzing with excitement and rivalry. Harry spotted the Snitch near the edge of the pitch and dove, wind roaring in his ears as he reached out and caught it.
The stadium exploded with cheers.
Harry looked up into the stands without thinking.
Draco was on his feet, clapping harder than anyone, smiling like Harry had just done something impossible and beautiful and entirely his.
Harry grinned back.
Draco forgot, just for one second, where he was.
He lifted his hand and blew Harry a kiss.
The stadium went dead silent.
You could hear someone drop a program. Someone else gasped. Pansy Parkinson screamed, “I KNEW IT!”
Harry nearly fell off his broom.
By dinner, the Great Hall was buzzing like a hive.
Ron stared at Harry like he’d grown a second head. “You and Malfoy?”
Hermione just sighed into her hands. “Finally.”
McGonagall summoned them both to her office, where she peered at them over her glasses with the look she reserved for students who had caused something between a mild inconvenience and a school-wide disaster.
“I do not care who you date,” she said firmly. “But I do care about causing a riot during a Quidditch match.”
Draco nodded politely. “In my defense, Potter looked very heroic.”
McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose.
After that, there was no point in pretending.
Draco walked Harry to class openly, their insults still flying back and forth like always.
“You’re walking too slow,” Draco said.
“You’re walking like you own the corridor,” Harry shot back.
Harry started sitting in the Slytherin section at breakfast. Draco stole food off Harry’s plate. Ron complained loudly. Hermione took notes like she’d always known this would happen.
But people also noticed the quiet things.
The way Draco always reached for Harry’s sleeve in crowded hallways. The way Harry always waited when Draco lagged behind. The way they leaned toward each other when they laughed.
One night, they climbed up to the Astronomy Tower, wrapped in one blanket, stars scattered across the sky like someone had spilled silver across the dark.
“Kind of miss the secret,” Harry admitted softly.
Draco hummed, looking up at the sky. “I don’t. I like not pretending I don’t care.”
Harry rested his head on Draco’s shoulder.
Draco smirked. “Don’t get soft on me, Potter. I have a reputation.”
“Too late,” Harry said. “You blew me a kiss in front of the entire school.”
Draco groaned. “I will never recover from this.”
Harry laughed, Draco smiled, and Hogwarts kept their secret no longer.