grryffindor secret

Rry blinked and spoke again, "Then keep going like this."

"What?" It was Draco's turn to be surprised this time. "I thought you knew I was joking, Harry."

"But I'm serious, Draco."

"You don't know why, damn Potter..."

In the end, he gave up and narrowed the distance between them. This was the third time Harry took the initiative to kiss Draco. He closed his eyes slightly, feeling that the defense he had erected in his heart disappeared without a trace.Then Draco dominated the kiss between them, almost suffocating him, all the strength seemed to be sucked out of Harry, a shudder ran down his spine, and that Slytherin tasted like a cookie.

They did it once in the armchair, with Draco stacked on his back, and Harry found his heart was beating as fast as his own.

"You're killing me..." Draco murmured, kissing Harry's back almost reverently.

Harry couldn't take any more, they both had more experience than last night, he responded enthusiastically to Draco, murmured his name, lost himself in the mix of breaths, and let his soul fly to the sky .

—they embraced, their breasts pressed together completely.

Draco cleaned them up briefly after that, and they moved to the bed. Harry spread out lazily under the thin quilt, Draco swung his wand and drew the curtains, and the bedroom suddenly became dark.

Why didn't he do it sooner? Harry thought of this and pushed Draco willfully.

"Don't mess around." Draco lay beside him with eyes closed, groping for Harry's hand and interlocking his fingers - they fit amazingly.

What a decadent day.He concluded in his mind.

Even now, he still sometimes wondered if it was all a dream, that night tour, Griffin, the Occasion Room, Malfoy—Draco, then the Astronomy Tower, and them.

and now.

Griffin was always beside five-year-old Draco back then, warming Draco with his small body.Later, it always liked to rest on the shoulders of 17-year-old Draco, and at night, it would even waddle to his side.

It also has eyes like his.

He knew, he was captured by him.

——And now he is being embraced by the golden waves of wheat, even his breath is warm.

Draco interrupted Harry by poking him in the heart, "I'm here," he said, his fingers splayed and then closed into fists, "and you, here."

"Yes, you did get it." Harry shook his head, pretending to be annoyed, "You did have me in your hands."

Draco gave a smug smirk, and Griffin leaned in. "More troubles, right Potter?" he said deliberately.

"Yeah, and the biggest one is you, Malfoy." Harry wondered if he was starting to miss the little, squishy Draco, not the jerk in front of him. "I guess I could put a few drops of age reducer in your pumpkin juice sometime." He narrowed his eyes, looking at Draco dangerously.

"Damn Harry tell me you wouldn't do that!"

"why not?"

"I hate you, arrogant Gryffindor," Draco declared.

"Me too." Harry replied sweetly.

He finally understood what Griffin meant, it was him, his heart.

And it is now willingly fastened by that silver and green ribbon.

"Malfoy."

When he received a glare, he decided not to push the boundaries of Slytherin.

"Okay, Draco…"

And Draco raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I love you so much."

Shut your mouth, Potter.He heard him say it, and got a kiss that made his head spin.

The fearless Gryffindor has a secret he may never tell.

If I can get to know you again, start with what is your name.

I think, I will still love you so much.

Everything is fine.

☆, extra episode ([-])

It was summer, and despite the heat, he and Draco occasionally went for a walk by the Black Lake, aimless walks.

"Remus told me that he suggested to Snape that there should be a prom..." Harry said, hiding in the shade of a tree with Draco, his eyes closed lazily.

"Lupin? Can't see that werewolf is so keen on this - pointless..." Draco swallowed the last words, not wanting to annoy the Gryffindor, "Godfather won't say yes."

"Snape has agreed."

"……what?"

Little Mr. Malfoy probably didn't expect that the day would come so soon to help Harry organize his prom outfit again - think of Potter's appalling manners and taste in dress.

In fact he had been planning on taking his Potter back to the Manor during their last summer after graduation - yes, his Potter. The probationary period for the Malfoys was coming to an end, and Draco knew what the next step was - he was going to apply for the recovery of the frozen assets, and he still had a lot to do.

"Speaking of which, Potter, what do you want to be doing in the future?" Draco asked, deciding not to save himself even more headaches for now.

Harry obviously thought for two seconds, then hesitatingly spoke:

"Aurors...or Quidditch players?"

Draco rolled his eyes inelegantly. "You're Harry Potter, the savior - you can do whatever you want..." he said, "No one will refuse you."

Harry shrugged, noncommittal.Maybe he would actually be an Auror in the end - but until then, he decided it would be a good idea to take some time off and hang out with his friends or take a trip with Draco.

"...what about you?" he asked.

"Running the Malfoy family business, of course—" Draco slid into Harry's lap, looking up at the dark-haired Gryffindor, "Actually I'm considering, after we graduate...to take you—together Back to the manor."

Harry felt his jaw drop to the floor.

Frankly, he did consider needing to face the Malfoys - more Mr. Malfoy.But that was none other than Lucius Malfoy - the ex-manager who had feuded with Harry in the second year, a cunning Slytherin - who just so happened to be none other than Draco Malfoy's father.Maybe he needed to regain the courage to fight and deal with Voldemort again.

—Because it was very possible that Lucius was plotting a fatal duel against Harry Potter, or a deliberate murder.

Harry Potter, AKA, the one who took his son away.

In the scorching summer, Harry couldn't help shivering.

"Are you scared, Potter?"

"You dream, Malfoy."

In fact, since Harry had been honest, everything had gone much smoother, whatever it was.Even though he and Draco still had a lot of disagreements and bickering - that couldn't be counted as a quarrel, a lot of times they just needed to express their displeasure to each other symbolically, and that was more like a tribute to old habits from the past.

"Honestly, I still can't believe it," Ron mumbled, chewing on his drumstick, "Harry is actually with that white ferret Malfoy."

No one responded to Ron, though, except for Blaise's snort of snort.

Maybe doing nothing made people feel tired, and Harry had been in this unmotivated state for almost a week now.Now, both Hermione and Draco were squinting, looking Ron and him up and down, respectively.

The expressions and actions are exactly the same.

—he tensed up involuntarily, and his fellow sufferer, belatedly, put down his bones, wiped his hands, and moved a little away from Hermione.

"Harry, we—" Ron winked at him hard, Harry understood, he just moved his calf—

"You don't want to go anywhere, Potter."

"You don't want to go anywhere, Ron."

--great.

Harry didn't want to think about how much cynicism from Draco he had suffered because of his taste.Well, anyway, on the day of the prom, he and Ron didn't seem like them again.

No crumpled shirts, no old lacy frock coats, they were neat, Harry even took off his glasses again - as Draco had requested, and they both pinned their hair back.

"This is what you're supposed to be, Potter." Draco's tone carried a great deal of satisfaction, and then became a little irritable, "Damn...I've already seen how many bees there will be—"

"What bee?"

"...you're mine, Scarhead," Draco said dangerously, narrowing his eyes, and together they pushed open the door to the Great Hall and walked in.

The expected decoration, with scattered petals floating on the ceiling, but they disappeared before they touched people's heads, as if they were teleported back to the night sky, and the cycle started again.

The candle torch used for lighting is only half of the usual size, and the whole hall is a little darker than usual, and the distance is even more hazy.They didn't know whose idea it was, but it was sensible enough, considering that Harry and Draco didn't want the extra attention, or that Draco didn't want Harry getting any more attention.

"Some butterbeer?" Harry asked as they sat down at a small round table, examining the menu.

"We should try something new, Potter." Draco smirked. He was satisfied that no one was near him, and his previous worries about the bees were allayed. "Wine, and steak...thank you."

It wasn't long before Snape was ready to start his speech. Professor McGonagall tapped the goblet lightly with her spoon, and everyone looked intently at the teacher's bench.

"Obviously, this is a dance that won't have a second chance." Snape said in his soft, smooth, whisper-like voice, his eyes sweeping over everyone except Draco and Harry's place for a little longer Seconds, "We have gone through the most difficult time - and everyone here will be the only eighth grader in the history of Hogwarts."

It was quiet, no one made a sound.

"What's due will come—and I have to say, congratulations."

Quiet, Snape nodded, and abruptly sat back in his seat, and the music began again.

This is the signal for the official start of the dance.

"Did he talk like this before?" Harry asked.

"The Godfather isn't used to this sort of thing," Draco said playfully, taking a small sip of his red wine. "He didn't actually want to say a word—oh, it's Lupine."

Harry followed Draco's gaze, and Remus invited Professor McGonagall again - he performed the opening dance instead of Snape, obviously he was the most suitable teacher in the room, and slowly, more eighth graders joined them , including Hermione and a reluctant Ron.

Draco looked at the dance floor with unbelievable amusement, his expression was absolute amusement, "I have to say, Potter, Weasley's dancing is just as horrible as yours." He couldn't help laughing, "Look at Granger's expression... oh poor Granger."

"What are you trying to say?" Harry said angrily.

"—nothing." Draco said, handing Harry a glass of wine. "Congratulations on graduating, Scarhead."

Harry rolled his eyes, but picked up his glass anyway, and touched Draco lightly, "You too, Malfoy."

Before he knew it, Harry drank a lot of red wine, partly because of Draco's temptation, partly because he really thought it was much better than butterbeer, and he was dizzy and his tongue was numb - while Draco Standing up, bowing slightly, he held out his right hand to Harry.

"I don't know if I have the honor—"

Harry tilted his head and blinked, grabbing a little of his attention, and he held his breath, waiting for Draco's next words.

"—would you like to dance with me, Mr. Potter?"

It was as if he was instantly pulled back to the day before the Christmas ball, also in the auditorium, Harry held that little hand, and asked him perhaps with a bit of a joke:

"I don't know if I have the honor—would you like to be my partner, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I am willing."

Now that their roles were reversed, Harry, in a daze, put his hand in the other 17-year-old boy's, held it firmly, and they slid onto the dance floor together.

He realized that Blaise was looking at them maliciously, and that Hermione and Ron were also smiling - and of course Ron was a little awkward.Even Remus, who had returned to the teacher's table, smiled encouragingly at him, while Snape turned away and refused to look at him.

He was led by Draco, maybe he drank too fast, Harry felt his head was groggy, and he couldn't even stand up. The faint scent of peppermint on Draco's body stimulated him, and a new courage surged up.

Those few syllables rolled on the tip of his tongue, he couldn't control himself, determined to kill the last bit of his sobriety.

"Draco." Harry whispered the Slytherin's name softly.

"Huh?" he replied.

They swayed to the music, Harry leaning his weight all over Draco's.

"You are a bastard."

"Of course I am."

"Draco..."

"I am here."

"Draco Malfoy..."

"I'm here, Potter."

Harry closed his eyes and called his name over and over again. Draco hugged him, over and over again, tirelessly responding to his Gryffindor.

The world seems to be left only with each other.

—I love you so much, Scarhead.Little Mr. Malfoy thought.

How incredible that he actually had his Potter.Even though they've all been through so much.

"Harry..." Draco murmured, rubbing the dark haired boy's ear, "Harry...I—"

Before he finished speaking, he dimly lowered his volume. Harry didn't care, he leaned on him with all his heart.

——If it were you, what would you say?

You are like my poison, but also my only antidote.

From early morning to evening, he just sat there, smiling as if the sky and the earth were colored.

Draco didn't like the ambiguous atmosphere at the dance now, with every couple busy kissing and hugging in the shadows.From time to time he misses the past, his tit-for-tat confrontation with Potter, the bumps between them that no one else can understand and can't get involved.

—that was pretty much all he had spent the first few years at Hogwarts.

Because he could never guess what the next second about Potter would be.

He is the brave and fearless Gryffindor, but it is so difficult to even say that he likes him.He always stands at the forefront, he is always shining, but his ears are red so easily.

He was the Harry Potter who could never guess his next second.

He was clearly wearing tattered clothes that were most unsuitable for Malfoy's taste, and a pair of outdated glasses.

He's obviously so reckless, naive and credulous - think about their childish, unfinished midnight duel in first year.

Draco couldn't help laughing at his own stupidity, but now, he wanted a new duel.

Yes, "Duel".

They don't need to go through any more going around—

"Let's go back," he said hoarsely.

Not caring if anyone noticed, Draco half-embraced Harry and stumbled all the way back to their dormitory, not having time to pay attention to the angry fireball of the Horntail portrait and Griffin, Draco slammed the door regardless.

Pushing, he shoved Harry roughly against the door and kissed him hard, rust smelling - he must have busted someone's lip, but Draco didn't care. Harry seemed to have finally regained a bit of consciousness, the alcohol made him more active, his hands hooked around Draco's neck, trying to pull him closer to him, panting intermittently.

"Go... go to bed—"

"I can't wait, Potter—"

Harry only had time to let out a short exclamation before Draco tore his dress robes and dropped them to the ground.His cold fingers slid into Harry's trousers, prodding him, and he was excited almost instantly, Harry held Draco's shoulders tightly, his legs went limp.

Draco felt like he'd been stupid since they'd confessed to each other.Often when he looked at Harry, he felt strange emotions filled his heart, sour and unspeakable.It was as if countless feathers were gently passing over his heart.

"You are my curse... Potter..."

Draco's snake pin fastening to his collar came loose and wobbled as he moved, and Harry squinted and folded his hands behind the Slytherin's neck, obviously noticing.

"Your pin—" he hissed.

Draco stopped and looked at Harry in shock.

"You, you're speaking Reptilian...Harry," Draco said.

Harry didn't actually realize what he said, he was almost entirely focused on where the two of them connected, but Draco's pin looked real when it was dangling—

"Sorry, I didn't, I didn't realize—"

"No, no..." Draco interrupted Harry's panicked apology, then lowered his head and kissed him, lingering on the corner of his lips, "Actually...your reptilian is not the same as the Dark Lord's...that makes me More excited—" he said frankly, his voice bewitching.

"This is crazy—" Harry said blankly.

"A little bit," Draco agreed, and he cleaned them up, then kicked the strewn clothes aside. "Can you stand on your own?" he asked uncertainly, still supporting Harry.

"I doubt it very much..."

"Okay, then," Draco said dryly, bending over, picking Harry up and putting him on the bed in his uncooperative struggle, "You've had too much to drink."

"Yeah," Harry said dryly, he felt the ceiling spinning now, "and you fucked me."

"Well, I fucked you." Draco lazily pulled out a contented smile, "And I found that I still like your messy hair better."

Harry felt that even rolling his eyes was unnecessary now. He felt that the potion for myopia was slowly wearing off, so he simply closed his eyes and ignored him.

"You're ignoring me again, Potter. Why are you still so awkward?" Draco said again without giving up, even with a bit of innocence in his tone, "Still... shy?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," he said, "before I go back and curse you..."

Draco shook his head helplessly, he clapped his hands and called the aggrieved Griffin—it was the first time he was left out in the cold, he held him in his arms for comfort for a while, then he took a quick shower, climbed onto the bed, and Circled Harry.

Before he fell asleep, his consciousness was always out of control, and Draco would think about things that he didn't dare to think about, or didn't want to think about.Such as Harry Potter, such as Saint Potter, such as Scarhead, such as stupid Gryffindor, but he didn't want to admit that he was deeply fascinated by him.

He thought he might not love him more.

Draco's nerves twitched, pulling him into a deeper sleep, and Harry's hair smelled faintly of alcohol.

Yeah, he couldn't love him more.

The evening wind of the summer night was blowing on his bare back through the window, Draco's consciousness began to be confused, he turned sideways, with his ears attached to the pillow, he heard his own heartbeat clearly——

He will love him more.

The author has something to say: I deleted some... The full version is still on Weibo @丸山超食_

☆, extra episode ([-])

Draco had been looking forward to the rain lately, he was tired of the sun and the heat.It was a cloudless June, and he was really missing the clouds—the big ones, letting them cover the annoying sun.Over time, this expectation turned into a desire.

Longing, like he was with that Gryffindor.

He spent a lot of time thinking and observing Harry Potter, which had actually started so long ago that Draco had almost forgotten when.He and Potter weren't in the -romantic - relationship they had now.There was no doubt that Draco disliked the Gryffindor's recklessness, his broken glasses, and his two loyal, stupid friends.What's more, usually the conversations between them are full of insults to each other's family and appearance, and they do everything they can.

--why is that?

It had been so long that Draco had almost forgotten why.

It seems to be a habit for him to confront him and make things difficult everywhere.

"Ah—look who this is? The savior with a broken arm."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Do you remember Potter?"

"Remember what?"

"One time during a Quidditch match, it was raining heavily, and I bumped into you, and we fell together."

"Oh yes, in the grass - you fell on top of me and I punched you."

Draco chuckled. "Yeah, that hurts," he said.

"Not as bad as my back hurts...and my arms! It's like being run over by a caveman."

This was him and Potter once - sarcasm and fists mixed.

In sixth grade, that Potter got busier.But he really didn't have much energy to pay attention to him like before, because Draco himself was going through a nightmare - created by Voldemort himself and given to the Malfoys.

He no longer has the mind to poke fun at the scarred head, but is tense all the time, planning an impossible murder.

Still later, Dumbledore died, watching the man fall from the tower with his own eyes.

Still later, in seventh year, Potter didn't even show up at Hogwarts.

And he decided to take the second chance that the old man gave him, Draco was looking forward to seeing that Gryffindor, he made a big decision - Snape ordered him to wait, he felt like a century had passed , until his anticipation turned longing again.

Later, Draco finally met Potter at the Shrieking Shack - he looked as bad as himself, but his eyes were still bright.He then declared his allegiance to the Saviour.

"Can I trust you?"

"—here's my wand. And here's the veritaserum from the godfather, if you think it's necessary—"

"No no no. Hell, Malfoy, I believe you—"

"Why the hell would you trust me?"

They had more quarrels in Grimmauld Place, he and Potter had different views and ideas about war, and they even ignored Weasley and Granger.Until the final battle officially started at Hogwarts.

It still seemed like yesterday, like he hadn't been able to believe that Crabbe and Goyle were really dead.

Potter did it - he really beat the man, and all it took was a damn disarming spell.To his strange delight, the spell came from his hawthorn wand.

His testimony saved the Malfoys from prison, and Draco had more time to think when the dust settled.He didn't have to worry about his parents anymore, but focused entirely on himself, and Potter.

He drifted back and forth between them, from the first time they met, to the umpteenth time he remembered Potter's clumsy moves at the fourth-year Yule Ball. It didn't take long for Draco to realize that he really wanted to be "the one" - the one who could dance with Potter.

This became Draco's deepest wish hidden in his heart.

He'd been an arrogant bastard for a long time, and he'd almost lost himself after the war, until that dark-haired Gryffindor showed up in the emergency room with Griffin.In fact, Draco was thankful countless times that he brewed a potion of age-reducing potion that day.

—the gap opened.

My five-year-old self with Potter was like a dream, he would hug him—even though he was a mess himself, he would read him Muggle storybooks, he even went to the Yule Ball with him, He also gave him a whole bottle of paper cranes.

That night when he was 17 again, Draco felt for the first time that he was so close to his wish.

Although Potter was really dull as hell.

But he really began to believe that their meeting and everything between them was destined.

He thought he would never forget the secret kiss he and Potter had on the high wall of the Astronomy Tower, under the Invisibility Cloak, which smelt strongly of mead.

He really likes him pampering him. Draco had to admit that he kept a little bit of his five-year-old habit of being coquettish to Harry until he was seventeen.

— Well, maybe a large part.

They finally ushered in their graduation in the scorching summer and walked on the platform with other grades to get on the train.And Draco felt like everyone passing them was saying hello to Harry, and even trying to ask for a friendly hug from the Savior.

"You're mine, Scarhead," Draco said harshly, wrinkling his nose at a junior Hufflepuff.

Harry was used to his declarations from time to time, and he shrugged in acquiescence.

"So... why don't you go back by the fireplace? Snape acquiesced!"

"Because this may be our last ride on the Hogwarts Express, Potter."

"Malfoy's right, Harry. Unless you decide to go back to school as a professor—"

"Hermione? Oh hell."

They walked slowly at the end of the crowd, boarded the train, and found a compartment, Harry in first, followed by Ron and Hermione, and the three Gryffindors watched inexplicably as Draco closed the compartment outside. Door.

"What's wrong with him?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head.

A few seconds later, Draco opened the door again, with Blaise standing behind him.

"Is it true? Everyone on the train is talking about Harry Potter being in this compartment. So that's you, right?"

Hermione looked at the four boys in bewilderment, while Ron's mouth fell open, clearly recognizing what it was.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Never mind, Granger," Blaise answered her kindly, "actually I don't understand either, but I guess maybe Draco wants to simulate a time-turner...you just have to, keep quiet—"

Harry recognized the words too, and he looked at Draco with a smile in his eyes, "Yes." He replied.

"Oh, this is—Zabini," Draco paused, before Harry could even catch the sadness flashing across his face, "My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Draco held out his hand - as he had done before, he didn't want to admit that he was still a little nervous - as he had been.It's just that he's now substituting calm for bravado arrogance to mask his uneasiness.

"Sorry, I don't know—should I be laughing at his damn name now?" Ron asked, horrified to find out his best friend had joined the game.

"Please—Weasley, please don't talk," Blaise said lazily.

Harry pretended to think for a moment, and Ron and Hermione and Blaise kept an absolutely respectful silence, all the while Draco's hand was still in the air.

"Hmm..." he said, standing up under Draco's almost exposed nervous gaze, finally, he took the blond boy's hand and instantly warmed his cold fingertips.

"Hello," he said, "I'm Harry Potter."

"Going to Hogwarts too?"

"Yes. Hey, we're at Madam Malkin's robe shop again? We've got Malfoy on the train."

"Don't be serious Potter... so you remember it too? Let me think about it—what's next?" Draco paused for a moment, then said slowly, "Oh! My dad is helping me buy books next door, and my mother is in the street Went to find the wand. It's your turn."

"Because I was impressed by the way you were an asshole at that time," Harry let go of Draco's hand, crossed his arms and looked at him amusedly, "and you forgot to mention the broomstick, Malfoy."

"What? Oh yes - you can't ask me to remember everything, Potter," Draco drawled. "Okay - do you have your own broomstick?"

"no."

"Actually you have, bloody Gryffindor - played Quidditch, then?"

"Of course." Harry said deliberately.

"Wrong Potter! You should say no."

"Well, no." He re-answered obediently.

"Do you know which college you were assigned to?"

"I don't know," Harry said.

"Of course, no one really knows which house they'll be sorted into until they arrive. But I'll be sorted into Slytherin because my whole family is