Title: Can you keep a Secret?

Authors: kusanobabe05 [kusanosakura] and socia0307

Pairing: DracoxHarry, implied RonxHermione,

Fandom : HP

Notes: Compatible up to the bathroom scene between Draco and Harry in Half-blood Prince- minus the Ginny interest. After that is completely AU…

Warning: drarry gets rather aggressive so be warned.

Prologue

More out of habit than anything, Harry made his usual detour along the seventh-floor corridor, checking the Marauder's Map as he went. For a moment he could not find Malfoy anywhere and assumed he must indeed be inside the Room of Requirement again, but then he saw Malfoy's tiny, labeled dot standing in a boys' bathroom on the floor below, accompanied, not by Crabbe or Goyle, but by Moaning Myrtle.

Harry only stopped staring at this unlikely coupling when he walked right into a suit of armor. The loud crash brought him out of his reverie; hurrying from the scene lest Filch turn up, he dashed down the marble staircase and along the passageway below. Harry was walking by the second floor girls' bathroom when he heard a quiet sniffling. It wasn't feminine at all. He very quietly pushed the door open.

Draco Malfoy was standing with his back to the door, his hands clutching either side of the sink, his white-blond head bowed.

"Don't," crooned Moaning Myrtle's voice from one of the cubicles. "Don't… tell me what's wrong… I can help you…"

Moaning Myrtle was counseling someone, he opened the door enough peek inside and saw the last person he'd even expect to find crying. Their reflection in the mirror showed eyes filled with hopelessness and despair as if everything was wrong and nothing was right.

"No one can help me," said Malfoy. His whole body was shaking. "I can't do it… I can't… It won't work… and unless I do it soon… he says he'll kill me…"

And Harry realized, with a shock so huge it seemed to root him to the spot, that Malfoy was crying — actually crying — tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin. Malfoy gasped and gulped and then, with a great shudder, looked up into flu-cracked mirror and saw Harry staring at him over his shoulder.

"Don't," crooned Moaning Myrtle's voice from one of the cubicles. "Don't… tell me what's wrong… I can help you…"

"No one can help me," said Malfoy. His whole body was shaking. "I can't do it… I can't… It won't work… and unless I do it soon… he says he'll kill me…"

And Harry realized, with a shock so huge it seemed to root him to the spot, that Malfoy was crying — actually crying — tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin. Malfoy gasped and gulped and then, with a great shudder, looked up into flu-cracked mirror and saw Harry staring at him over his shoulder.

"Cru…"

"Sectumseptra." Harry's wand swinging wildly, a deep gash opened on Draco's chest and a slice on his cheek. There was so much blood, he screamed. "Oh god. What have I done?

He stood shaking, he had sworn never to hurt someone in anger. In defense was one thing but never in anger. He deserved for the first time in his life to be caned, belted, beaten. He'd committed a heinous act.

How could he do it? Lash out like that? In a duel he always tried to disarm rather then fight. He didn't even remember actually raising his wand and discovering the identity of the Half-blood Prince. He was lost in memories, cringing. His powerful glamours that sucked away at his magic and shimmered off and on.

He wasn't cruel, he wasn't even brave, so what had he done?