Secrets and Surprises. Chapter Ten: Relapse

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! JK Rowling is a Goddess and I am nothing but a lowlife.

Warnings: Teenage angst to the max. Slash, eventually (Gee whiz!). I am a whore for hurt and comfort. Potentially triggering content. Not perfect match with the books.

Also: Hey guys, -Waves sheepishly- Sorry about the distinct lack of updates for maybe half a year, I hope you don't hate me. I'm doing what I can to come back to this fic—life picked up and I lost a lot of motivation as well as any semblance of a plot line that I had in my head. I've got the next chapter or two planned out, but almost nothing after that. Be that as it is, I'd like to get your feedback on what could happen next, (other than the obvious Harry/Draco lovingness) if you have any ideas you'd like to see me write, email me personally at and I'll do my best to incorporate it. You'll also be credited with the idea, so hopefully no worries there. :)

No, no, nononoo…He groaned to himself, bending down hastily to pick up his mess. Draco Malfoy cannot be handsome. He's bloody Draco Malfoy! Harry brooded the rest of class, creating a foul brownish substance that smelled suspiciously of cabbage instead of the light green the potion was supposed to be. Oh, well. He flew out of the room when class was over, desperate to walk alone with his thoughts. He had History of Magic next, with Ron and Hermione—so that gave him even more time to think, knowing he never paid attention in that class anyways.

He couldn't like Draco, could he? He had never even thought of the blonde in any positive light before last night. But that wasn't really true… I had never wanted to be enemies, had I? It just happened. Harry knew part of the reason he had been so nasty, the part that had been enough for him to not even give Draco a chance in the beginning--because it was Draco's striking appearance that day on the train that had made Harry realize that he wasn't necessarily like all the other boys. He had hated Draco for that, if nothing else. But now…But now things were different. Draco was the only one who knew his two biggest secrets, and even shared one with him.

He slid into his seat, turning the thoughts over and over in his head, but abruptly put them to a halt when one in particular brought back a certain urge. So what if I like him? It would never work. Slytherin, Gryffindor. Besides, the only reason he was kind to you the other night is because he felt sorry for you. And didn't he make his disdain clear? Nope, nuh uh, not going there. No wallowing for Harry, especially not since things had been going so well. Well, better than they had been. There were always the whispers around him, never mind the ones in his head that he had been ignoring so diligently. Still the brunt of jokes and the object of desire for those misguided enough to think that he was worth it. He was ignoring it better than he had in months.

The next three days passed surprisingly normally, and by the end of the week, Harry was finally caught up on his school work—if slightly sleep-deprived. And so, motivated by the prospect of a well-deserved nap, he trudged towards the Gryffindor tower, waving weary good-byes to Ron and Hermione. He found himself enjoying their company again, and he was trying to rebuild the friendship that he had neglected for too long. All parties involved were quite happy with it, judging by the smiles that were coming easier, old jokes coming back to life. A little reminiscing could go a long way, Harry thought, smiling to himself about the short conversation him and Ron had earlier.

"Hey, Ron, do you remember that time you got your head stuck in the closet?"

Ron had paused, made a brief attempt to look aghast, and then burst into giggles.

"Yeah, wow. Bloody good time that was, even if I did have a headache for who knows how long. Hermione laughed at us for days, didn't she?"

"Yeah."

And it had been as simple as that. A fragment of the lost friendship had slid back into place. Harry had grinned all the way to class, had slung a friendly arm around Ron's shoulders.

Lost in thought, Harry hadn't noticed that he was following behind a certain blonde head, of course flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. He fell a few steps back, allowing two first years to cut in front of him. He didn't want to put any strain on the non-relationship that he and Draco had, because to be honest, the not talking to each other was a lot easier to deal with than the insult-slinging that they used to engage in.

He tried not to listen, tried very, very hard not to listen, wanting to respect Draco's privacy, but gruffly spoken words by way of Crabbe caught his attention. So the monkey speaks, he thought with a smirk.

"What in the hell is that kid's problem, 'neways?"

Draco's back stiffened, but he said nothing. Goyle responded, instead.

"I don't know, must've saved someone's life again, the way he's acting."

It was Harry's turn to falter. Walk away, walk away, he commanded himself, but found it impossible.

"Yeah, I liked it better when he didn't have friends. Malfoy?"

Harry was so absorbed that he didn't notice Draco miss a step and quickly recover. He didn't see Draco quickly scan the hallway for listeners in, didn't notice the tone in the Slytherin's voice that would have told him that what he was about to hear was an outright lie.

"I don't know, boys. Maybe he's finally gotten himself a girl." Draco turned his head then, and from a profile view, Harry saw the lewd, harsh grin and the upraised eyebrow.

Harry halted. Watched them go through a rapidly clouding hallway as something lurched inside the pit of his stomach, coiled tight around his insides.

He knew what he had to do. Spinning abruptly in the opposite direction, he bolted down the corridor, taking an alternative route to his salvation.