A/N: Wrote this a while ago and randomly decided to type it up today while I was waiting for a music video to finish downloading. For the record, I'm still waiting.

Warnings: …It's weird? Maybe. And ooooh, Ron said a bad wooooord! Oh, wait, slash. If you think that's a warning.

Disclaimer: Own them? Puh-lease.

Summary: When Harry found the broom, he certainly didn't expect it to lead to anything like this. But, hey, who's he to complain? (A slashy what if story, in which McGonagall is late giving Harry back the Firebolt.)

Unexpected Secrets

He wondered absently if it was possible for his stomach to have disappeared overnight. Logically, of course, he knew full well that it had to be absolutely impossible, but something still made him wonder. Maybe there was some sort of spell that could remove it without making a single mark on the victim's body. He resolved to ask Hermione later, though he doubted she would have heard of one—surely any such spell would fall into the category of Dark Arts and he didn't think she'd found any books about that laying around. But still, the thought of there actually being such a spell was a little disturbing. He should find out. Not having a stomach—or feeling like he didn't, at least—wasn't a very comfortable experience.

The reason Harry Potter was lying awake in his bed staring at the ceiling was quite simple. McGonagall had never returned the Firebolt to him. And that meant he would have to attempt to win a match against Ravenclaw while using a school broom. From what Oliver had told him about the opposing Seeker, he knew it was an impossible feat. He'd might as well go to Oliver and tell him to forfeit now, before Gryffindor was humiliated even worse.

Sighing, Harry pulled back the curtains of his four-poster bed and stepped onto the floor—only to find himself tripping over something hard and thin that he knew hadn't been there the night before. Out of nowhere, his stomach returned to its proper position in his body. There was only one object that could be down there. A grin spread across his face as he looked down, happier than he had been in quite a while.

But the grin faded quickly when he got a closer look at the object on his floor. Oh, it was definitely a broom, there was no doubt about that. But it wasn't his Firebolt. It was a Nimbus 2001. He scowled at it as he picked it up, automatically suspicious. Who would have any idea that he still needed a broom? Only Ron, Hermione, and Oliver knew about his trouble with the Firebolt. When his eyes fell on the end of the broom, he noticed that there was a note tied securely to it. Curious, he tugged it off and dropped the broom onto his bed before unfolding it and reading the words that appeared to have been scribbled rather hastily on the small bit of parchment. He didn't recognize the handwriting, but his eyes widened in surprise at the words.

Don't try to find out who sent this to you—I put enough enchantments on it to ensure I remain anonymous. Don't worry, though, I haven't jinxed this thing to hurt you or anything. I know you need a broom, but I also know you would never trust me. However, I will give you the opportunity to meet me the day after the match, when you will return my broom to me. I'll owl you the meeting place later.

It wasn't signed. Harry's scowl deepened as he inspected the broom again. It looked familiar, but he couldn't place where he had seen it before. It was probably because of whatever spells were on it. The fact that it was spelled at all made him wary of trusting his secret beneficiary—but the fact remained that he needed a decent broom, and this was the only one currently available to him. Anyway, he had survived Quirrel and rogue bludgers, so he was fairly certain that he could survive whatever may have been cast on this broom. He would just have to refuse to tell anyone who had sent the broom, saying that I was a secret.

Decision made, Harry moved off to get dressed, the note still clenched tightly in his fist.

How long was he going to be forced to wait? Harry had been pacing around the tiny room he was in for nearly a half an hour, waiting for the owner of the broom to show up. Was the person hoping he would leave if he was forced to wait long enough? Probably. But whoever it was must not have known just how stubborn he really was. Harry would wait all day if he had to, just to find out who it was that he had to thank for the victory against Ravenclaw.

After about ten more minutes of waiting and a few muttered threats to the air in front of him, the door finally opened slowly. There was a moment of movement in the shadows that obscured his view of whoever had just entered the room before the door slammed shut. Harry licked his lips nervously, unsure of what he should do. Fortunately enough, part of the shadows soon moved forward to reveal itself as one very tense-looking Draco Malfoy.

Harry was really starting to get annoyed with his stomach.

"What're you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry snarled, desperately hoping that this was simply one freaky coincidence.

"Reclaiming my broom," Malfoy replied calmly, all trace of the usual hatred gone from his voice.

Harry clenched the broom with a white-knuckled grip. "Impossible," he breathed, though he knew it was the truth.

Malfoy moved closer, a single eyebrow raised. He didn't stop walking until he was a few inches from Harry, who was resisting the urge to back as far away from his rival as possible.

"Are you going to give me my broom, Potter?" the pale boy asked.

"Why did you let me use it?" Harry asked him. He didn't hand over the broom.

"Because I couldn't give up the opportunity to beat you, of course," Malfoy smirked, looking more amused than Harry thought he had any right to. "How could I get another chance to win if you didn't beat Ravenclaw?"

"There has to be something else to your decision. I mean, if there wasn't, you wouldn't have attempted to sabotage me," Harry pointed out logically.

"It's not as if I could have gotten away with refusing," Malfoy snickered. "Could you imagine their reactions if I refused? It would be almost the same thing as defending you."

"Why would you defend me, then?"

"What makes you think I would? I haven't defended you yet."

"But you thought about it. You wanted to."

"Maybe I did," Malfoy smirked again. Then he took one step closer, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Harry's hand that was still holding the broom. "Are you sure you want to know, Harry?" he purred, breath ghosting over Harry's face. His smirk turned almost predatory as the other boy's eyes widened.

"Tell me anyway," Harry whispered nervously, tongue running across his lips again. He was a little disturbed when he noticed that Malfoy was watching its progression with a hungry look on his face.

"I was wondering what it would be like to kiss you," Malfoy murmured in a voice that Harry had never before heard anyone use. Before Harry's mind could process just what was happening, Malfoy's lips brushed gently against his own.

Harry jerked back in surprise, hand finally loosening its grip on the broom. He didn't waste any time backing away when Malfoy let his hand go, broom clattering to the floor and all but forgotten. Malfoy followed him leisurely until Harry's suddenly backed into a wall.

"I…you…what…" Not thinking at all, Harry found his tongue once again wetting his suddenly dry lips.

The reaction was almost immediate. Harry gasped when he suddenly found himself shoved against the wall by Malfoy, whose hands were situated on either side of his waist, and whose body was pressed against his in a way that wasn't entirely uncomfortable.

"I would think you would have realized what my reaction to you licking your lips would be, and that you'd work on suppressing that particular habit," Malfoy whispered into his ear. "But then again, I also thought you would be too shocked to move when I tried to kiss you. I think I rather like being disappointed, personally."

"You're nutters," Harry muttered.

"So I've been told," Malfoy snickered.

There was a moment's silence.

"…Why?"

"Why not?" They stared at each other for a few minutes, silence stretching tautly between them. "Do you want me to kiss you again?" Malfoy eventually questioned.

"No." Harry's voice was shaking.

"Good," Malfoy whispered back, before pressing his lips back against Harry's. Harry didn't even try to resist, but he didn't respond either. In fact, nothing at all happened until Malfoy pulled away.

"It's a lot more fun if you respond," the blond sighed. "Unless, of course, you're scared?"

"I'm not scared!" Harry responded hotly, eyes flashing.

"Prove it then," Malfoy returned smugly.

"I don't know—"

"And you think I do? Just follow your instincts, Potter."

Harry froze, mouth opened uncertainly. Follow his instincts? A lot of good that would do him. His instincts had a tendency to get him in trouble. This wouldn't be any different.

But then again, all the trouble he had ever gotten himself into had certainly been worth it.

Ever so slowly, Harry placed a hand on the back of Malfoy's (or was it Draco, now?) head and tugged him closer as gently as he could. He couldn't help the satisfied smile that spread across his face as the other boy shifted impatiently against him. Deciding that it was time to have a bit of fun, Harry slowly licked his lips.

"Stop that," Draco whimpered. Harry did it again. "Bloody hell, Potter, what are you doing?"

"Following my instincts," Harry returned innocently, suddenly wrapping his free arm tightly around Draco's waist and pressing the boy against him in a tight embrace. He did his best to ignore the pleased shiver that ran down his spine when Draco moaned.

"Damn your instincts, then!"

"But what if they're telling me to kiss you now?" Harry licked his lips again, though this time it was from habit rather than any conscious hope to make Draco whimper or moan again.

"You're stalling," Draco accused him. "You are scared!"

"No I'm not," Harry lied.

"You haven't proven me wrong yet."

Harry snarled angrily before he yanked Draco's head down and mashed their lips together. Still not entirely sure what he was doing, Harry experimentally licked at the lips that were pressed against his. He wasn't expecting to have Draco's body practically melt against his, nor was he expecting the lips to part so his tongue slipped inside—but he found himself more than pleased as he slowly explored the contours of his rival's mouth. He was also pleased with the soft sounds Draco was making. Eventually, however, he found that he was running out of breath and forced himself to pull away.

"That's more like it," Draco grinned happily.

"You look like an idiot when you grin, you know," Harry said as he absently played with the silky hair he'd found his hand entangled in.

"No more than you do," Draco smirked in response.

A comfortable silence stretched between them until Draco suddenly rested his head on Harry's shoulder.

"This is wrong on so many levels," Harry said as calmly as he could, though he could still hear his own voice shaking.

"I know," Draco agreed.

"We should probably leave," Harry continued relentlessly.

"Yes, we should," Draco agreed again, though this time his voice sounded a little cold.

"…I'm not entirely sure I want to," Harry whispered finally, not even bothering to hide the fear in his voice.

There was a pause before Draco removed his head from Harry's shoulder to look him in the eyes. "I know I don't want to," he said.

Harry grinned and opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as the door suddenly started swinging open. For a second, Harry considered jumping away and pretending that he and Draco were just arguing. But the urge quickly faded, and he instead tightened his grip on Draco's waist. Draco shot him a startled look, but he ignored it easily.

"Harry, are you in here?" Ron's voice came from the door, and Harry winced. He should have known that he'd be found soon.

"Well, Potter?" Draco snickered. "Are you in here?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You think I'm still scared." He didn't even bother to lower his voice to make sure Ron wouldn't hear him.

"Harry?" Ron called again.

"Now's your chance to run," Draco smirked lazily.

"I'm not going to run," Harry replied calmly. "Are you?"

"Would you even let me?"

"If you really wanted to go, I think I'd have to."

Draco grinned at him as he moved his head forward and gently began nibbling at Harry's bottom lip. Harry sighed softly and closed his eyes, letting Draco do whatever eh wanted. He felt too good to complain.

"Harry, I know you're in here!" Ron called, though he appeared to still be standing outside the door. "I heard your voice!"

Frustrated, Draco pulled sharply away, making Harry whimper at the sudden lack of contact. "Weasley, do your friend a favor and come back in a couple hours!" he snarled in the approximate direction of the door. "We're a bit busy in here!"

"He's coming in now," Harry scowled.

"Wha—"

"Malfoy, what have you done with him?" Ron's voice growled and the tall redhead burst into the room, wand out. "Don't think you can get a…way…" Ron had stopped short at the sight that greeted him.

"Hey, Ron," Harry said to his friend with a weak smile. Ron just stared. "I don't have a logical explanation for this, you know," he continued brightly. "But you realize, of course, that I can't bring myself to care what you think of this."

Draco, reveling in Ron's shock, decided to nuzzle his face into Harry's neck, which made Harry yelp. Ron made an odd chocking noise in the back of his throat that made Draco sigh happily. He really loved torturing Weasleys.

"Malfoy, that's a bit distracting," Harry whined. Draco responded by brushing his lips against Harry's throat. Harry whimpered.

Unfortunately, the sound of Harry's whimpering seemed to stun Ron into reaction.

"STUPEFY!" he shouted before quickly jumping forward and pulling Draco out of Harry's grasp. "Come on, Harry. I'm going to take you to the Hospital Wing and find out what that bastard did to you."

"All he did was kiss me," Harry protested. "And let me ride his broom."

Rom promptly turned a rather interesting shade of green and stopped in his tracks. Knowing Ron would only be affected for a minute, Harry quickly pulled his arm away and shot a spell at Draco's prone form. A second later, Draco had Ron pressed against a wall, his hand around the taller boy's throat.

"Draco, don't!" Harry yelled.

Though he didn't release Ron's throat, Draco did turn his head just enough for him to be able to look at Harry's face.

"Did you just call me Draco?" he asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Er…" Harry replied uncertainly.

"Why?"

"Because…I wasn't reminding myself to call you Malfoy…."

"I'm flattered," Draco responded dryly.

"Oh, would you just let go of Ron?" Harry scowled grumpily. "I don't want him to die, I would like to get back to what we were doing before he interrupted us, and I don't want to do it with him in the same room."

Draco grinned again and abruptly released his hold on Ron. He strutted over to Harry, pulled him into a very short kiss, and the grabbed his hand to pull him out of the room, picking his broom up on the way.

"I don't think the Slytherins will mind too much if I drag you to my dorms," he said casually, ignoring Harry's less than enthusiastic exclamation. "They might be a bit disappointed, though."

"You're nutters, Draco," Harry laughed as he stumbled along.

"I never denied that," Draco snickered in reply as the door slammed shut, leaving a very disgusted Ron panting in the room behind them.