Little random one-shot fic here. Hope y'all like it, lol.

Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warnings: Slash, nothing major or explicit.
Summary: Harry Potter has been captured by the Dark Lord and one lone Death-Eater has been left to guard him while he 'sleeps'. This certain, young, grey eyed, blonde Death-Eater ponders his feelings for the boy-who-lived, but realises, only when his beloved is taken so cruelly from him, that he shouldn't be afraid of the feeling, cause no-one ever had to know...
Other: These boys and any other mentioned characters belong to J.K.Rowling and her associates, however the plot is all mine! The plot is all mine however guys, so no nicking it.
AN: This is just a random idea, no real plot to it, just kinda sweet.

Luv, L-P-M-B, xxx

Harry Potter lay immobile on a table surrounded by Death-Eaters, gagged and shackled to the dark wood and, oddly, he looked ever so like a trapped angel.

His dark hair was spilling around his head and little strands still graced his forehead, yet no longer hiding the scar. His eyes were closed as though in sleep, impossibly dark lashes brushing and fluttering slightly against his cheeks, glasses not present. His skin was pale and eerie in the magically lit room, giving him an unearthly glow, marred by the smudges of dirt on his face, arms and torso and the trickle of blood red as hellfire that graced his lips and chin, seeping from a split on his lower lip.

The Death-Eaters kept their silent vigil until a command was uttered by someone through a magical connection. Each proceeded to floo to an unknown destination through the huge, ornate fireplace at one end of the room.

One Death-Eater was left to continue the watch on the boy-who-lived. When the others had gone, the last pushed back his hood and removed his mask. His cool grey eyes rested on the unmoving boy before him. He breathed deeply and ran a hand through white blonde hair, raking it back, only to let it fall forward once more and graze his high, aristocratic, handsome cheekbones.

He looked young and a little unsure as he stepped forward to look down on the boy-who-lived. The dark haired boy had always been so strong, reckless, and unstoppable, above everybody else, but now, when the blonde Death-Eater looked down at him, he seemed so frail and delicate, a porcelain picture of sacrifice, so easy to break, so fragile.

The blonde reached out a hand, wondering whether the boy-who-lived would shatter before his very eyes if he dared to touch him. He made a decision and grazed his slender fingers down the side of the other's face. Not so breakable apparently.

The young Death-Eater had always thought the boy-who-lived to be an aesthetically pleasing individual and his opinion had not changed, the raven haired boy truly was a beautifully person and the blonde recognised that.

The blonde also wondered why he had been dealt such a shoddy deal in fate's game of cards. He had never gained the friendship of the boy-who-lived, though he wanted it terribly, nor had he really been in a position to have that friendship - his family being who they were. He had never really even dared to dream about his other desire, the longing to hold the dark haired boy close as far more than a friend and kiss those pink lips knowing the boy-who-lived was all his.

He wondered what it would be like to kiss the raven haired boy among other things and knew the time he had was probably the last he would ever get alone with the other boy.

The young Death-Eater frowned, realising nothing really mattered. The boy-who-lived was never to wake again from his current sleep, only lose the grip he held on the land of the living when the Dark Lord so chose.

With this thought in mind the blonde leant forward and pressed his lips softly against those of the dark haired boy. He felt the soft warmth and closed his eyes making the sweet, gentle kiss last more than a moment, before breaking away.

The last Death-Eater felt an emotion resurface inside of him and let it run through him completely, assailing his senses, fluttering in his stomach, bright in his mercury eyes, warm in his heart, trembling in his hands, sweet on his tongue, leaving him more than just a little breathless.

The blonde let a bittersweet smile flicker briefly across his face. He pulled himself together and replaced his mask and covered his head with his black hood.

He knew that feeling too well. It had been around for a long time, how long exactly he did not know and did not care. It was love, pure and simple, but a love so taboo and forbidden for the blonde that no-one could ever find out.

The young Death-Eater stepped away from the table, silver grey eyes still fixed on the boy-who-lived with a steady gaze.

His strange love for the raven haired boy did not matter, because the object of his affections would be gone soon and plus, no-one ever had to know.

It hurt a little knowing that, but it was true.

His secret bittersweet smile for the dark haired boy was not seen by the others when they returned, so no-one ever had to know that it had graced his handsome features.

The feeling of his heart breaking as the boy-who-lived died before his eyes was neither apparent nor known about by anyone but himself, so no-one ever had to know that he had ever felt such a thing.

The tears that slid down his cheeks behind his mask in silent grief for the green eyed boy were never seen by another, so no-one ever had to know that they'd been shed.

Draco Malfoy never spoke of his feelings to others, so no-one ever had to know that he'd kissed, cried for, mourned for and loved Harry Potter.

Yes, that was right, no-one ever had to know…