Unheard Of

Chapter One: A Different Sort of Secret-Keeper

Furious, Harry stormed out of the Dungeons. Detention-the first day! For doing bloody nothing, of course! His glasses askew and his mind in angry turmoil, Harry just barely caught himself before he ran into the only other occupant of the Dungeons´ Hallway: Draco Malfoy.

Cheeks flushed to the shade of ripe beets, and with a slightly homicidal demeanor, Malfoy was yelling at the top of his lungs. "-and my own goddamned problem! Fucking Father!" Malfoy hurled a book at the opposite wall to signify his most extreme displeasure.

As Harry tried to blend into the slate gray walls, he checked his glasses. They´re clean, but I can´t be seeing right...that couldn´t be Malfoy. He never acts like this! Besides, those stupid oafs of his aren´t around either...definitely bizarre!

Luckily, Malfoy seemed to be too busy cursing his father to notice Harry. "He´s a goddamned hypocrite, is what he is! All he should care about is if I screw Purebloods!" He slammed a fist into the concrete wall, then proceeded to look extremely sorry he´d done so.

A loudly whispered mantra of swears could be heard even from where Harry stood. Hell, he thought pityingly, he really looks like he´s in pain. Maybe I should-

"I´ll deal with this in my own goddamned way, Father. And you have no say with this choice." Malfoy grimaced, using his left hand delicately. Looking awkward, he summoned the scattered books back with his wand, and carried them with his good arm. He strode off with his feet smacking loudly against the hard floor.

After a couple moments of silence, Harry said loudly, "Just what in the bleeding hell was that about?"

"What was what about, Mr. Potter?"

Turning around, Harry put on a cold, composed face he reserved specifically for Snape. "Sorry, Professor, but I just saw-"

"It doesn´t matter what you think you saw, Potter," the professor icily interrupted. "What matters is it´s only the first day of the term and you´ve already served detention, lost ten points for Gryffindor, and are about to lose ten-or possibly twenty-more points should you not get moving this instant."

"Yes, Professor Snape," Harry replied sulkily and turned away, teeth clenched. Double Potions and History of Magic...what a formidable start, he thought dryly.

***************

Once in the safety of the common room, Harry flopped down on a large, squishy, crimson-coloured chair and moaned loudly. "I´ll never make it two more years. Not with Snape still around."

"What´re you talking about, two more years? It´s our sixth year!" Ron hollered. For a split second, he was worried there was some eighth year no one had bothered to tell him about.

Hermione frowned at him over top of an already mounting pile of books. "Honestly, Ron. It´s the first day. We´ve still got a whole year of tests, assignments, and projects to worry about."

"Eurgh. Don´t remind me." Harry suddenly remembered Malfoy´s outburst. "Guys, you´ll never believe this, but-Malfoy, of all people, was completely freaking out in the hallway. Dungeon hallways," he added.

Hermione looked up and gave Harry a strange look. "Malfoy? What´s he got to be worked up about? Snape awarded him fifteen points for knowing what wolfsbane is commonly used for!" she spat out, slamming a book closed.

"Come on, Hermione. What do you expect? This is Snape. He was born a bastard, grew up a bastard, and is now living his childhood dream to forever be a bastard. And what´s this about Malfoy? Someone punch his nose in?" Ron actually grimaced. "Beat me to it."

Harry grinned at Ron´s chagrin. "Don´t worry, Ron-no one beat you to it. He wasn´t injured. Well, not at the beginning, anyways," Harry corrected. "He did end up punching the wall and I could see his hand bleeding from it."

"Wicked!" Ron exclaimed. "Was it broken? Do you think he won´t be able to play Quidditch this year? Or even permanently? Or maybe-"

"Ron, I´m not done yet. Anyways, Malfoy kept going on about his father, and something he wouldn´t let him do. Kept cursing him, and he actually said, er..." Harry paused, thinking about Malfoy´s comment on screwing Purebloods. Do I tell? I mean, it´s Malfoy, but it´s still rather personal...

"Go on, Harry! Don´t keep us in the dark. Malfoy, a family prodigy?" Ron asked, his face twisted skeptically.

"All right, all right. He said something about how his dad should only care if he...er, had...relations...with Purebloods."

Hermione sighed dramatically. "Harry, spill it. It´s already common knowledge that Malfoy only hangs around Purebloods. Explain what you mean by `relations´."

"Eurgh! You´re the brain, you should know the definition...Okay, I´m sorry, don´t go all McGonagall on me. He said that his father should only care if he, er, screwed Purebloods." Harry coughed and squirmed uncomfortably.

Looking bewildered for a second, Ron suddenly burst into laughter. "Malfoy can´t find any Purebloods good enough for him? That´s just classic!"

While Ron amused himself with that conclusion, Hermione gave Harry a look. "Somehow, I don´t think it has to do with a lack of pretty girls. It´s weird, Harry. Especially that he should act so outrageously in the hallways. That´s very unnatural."

"Well, what do you suppose the problem is? I mean..." Harry stopped himself. Why the hell are we talking about this? I mean, really Harry, this is Malfoy. What do you care?

"Obviously," Hermione begun in her I´m-an-analytical-thinker-and-you´re-a-moron voice, "He had an argument with his father about his, er, sexuality. Or rather, lack of an active sex life by the looks of it..." she finished, blushing and fiddling with the edges of her sleeves in embarrassment.

Ron gave another hoot. "Lack of a sex life? Even better! God, once word gets out that Malfoy´s a sexually frustrated ferret who needs his father to turn to for help...! It´s great. Scandalous. I love it." Grinning evilly, Ron positioned his fingers to make a picture frame. "Draco Malfoy, Ruined For Lack of Sex."

After rolling her eyes, Hermione pursed her lips, a thing she tended to do when she was annoyed. "Really, Ron, I doubt he´d be ruined. Just...temporarily sexless."

That comment sent Ron into fits of hilarity.

"Ron, I hate to interrupt your fun, but you have homework to do."

God, is she ever right, Harry realized. Already the first day, and homework. What kind of school is this? Harry wondered briefly, before delving into `the elusive history of the Lethifold´, to quip Professor Binns. Which really is a bit interesting, Harry pondered absently, but it´s still work.

Ron began to complain loudly. "Hermione, it´s only 9 o´clock. Give us a rest, will you? We´ve got the entire night- "

"Ron Weasley, I know exactly what´s going to happen. You used to do this all the time. You say you´ve got all night, I decide not to worry, stupidly believing that you´ll actually do your homework, and what happens? The next morning, you´re begging to copy mine because you didn´t bother to do it. Isn´t that right, Harry?"

With both Ron and Hermione looking at him expectantly, Harry put his hands up defensively. "Don´t get me involved in this," Harry declared, immediately getting back to his homework. I guess this means no more of Hermione´s `help´ anymore, he sighed.

***************

Ron successfully avoided doing his homework until a half-hour before eleven. `I need to take a shower...Mum told me to owl her...Pig´s hungry...I´m hungry...´ By the time he´d gotten halfway -Harry was on his last inch or so of parchment- Ron was exhausted. "Blimey, Harry, it´s late," he yawned.

"Lord, Ron. It´s only eleven o´clock."

"Shut up, Hermione. Mum made me and Ginny go to bed at ten o´clock each night." He tried to stifle another, larger yawn, only to succeed in looking like he would throw up. "Said she was preparing us for going back to school. I have to go to bed."

Harry felt rather tired himself. It had, after all, been a very long first day back. "I´ll go up with you."

"Well, good night, boys," Hermione chirped, beginning to gather her things.

Trudging upstairs, Ron yawned and complained about the large roll of parchment that was due for History of Magic.

"I mean, we don´t need to know about those things, do we?" He yawned. "Lethifolds are basically big black cloaks that kill you. Okay, I can deal with that. Basically because I´ll never meet one." He yawned again. "God, that sounds more like a Care of Magical Creatures subject!" Another yawn. "What´s...the point?" Almost to the bed. "I mean, really, it´s not even History if they´re still-" Yawn. "-around, right?"

Harry watched Ron flop down on his bed, full clothed, and not much more then a minute later, his friend was asleep. "Past your bedtime, huh. Good night, Ron," he said, rolling his eyes.

After changing and getting in bed, Harry realized he wasn´t as tired as he´d originally convinced himself. He thought aimlessly, until reminded of what he´d begun to refer to as the Malfoy Episode. Surprisingly, Harry found himself very curious about what was going on with Malfoy. He hadn´t seemed his usual haughty, holier-then-thou self, lately. What was his fight with his father really about?

And why do you care, Harry? Why do you care?

***************

In Transfiguration, Harry noticed a bandage on Malfoy´s hand. Obviously from yesterday, Harry concluded. I wonder how bad it is?

After Transfiguration finished, Harry packed his things away, making sure to go just slightly faster than Malfoy. Maybe I should tell that I saw... He told Ron he´d meet up with him in Care of Magical Creatures.

As soon as Malfoy finished, Harry made sure he was out the door. Luckily for him, Malfoy was usually one of the last out of class. He purposely bumped into him.

"The hell´s the matter with you, Potter?" Malfoy snapped. "Nearly broke open my ink bottle. Sod off, I´ve got a class to get to."

"Wait, Malfoy. What happened to your hand?" Harry briefly wondered how truthful Malfoy would be about that.

He smirked. "Punched a Hufflepuff bloke out cold. He had a head as hard as rock, so I hurt my hand. Now will you get the bloody hell out of my way?"

Lord, Harry. Why are you even bothering? "Suit yourself," Harry replied coolly, sidestepping out of his way. "´Bye."

Giving him one last sneer, Malfoy stalked off to his next class. The hell´s gotten in to Potter? He wondered briefly, his eyes narrowed and brow furrowed into a frown.

***************

For the next few weeks, Harry was too busy with everything to think about the Malfoy Episode.

His six year was by far the hardest yet. Which makes sense, he thought to himself. Still, he wasn´t sure if he´d ever get used to it. Three weeks into the term and already he needed a few more rolls of parchment and an extra bottle of ink.

Another thing on Harry´s mind was his favorite sport.

With Oliver Wood not around anymore to harass him about Quidditch, Harry harassed himself about it lately. He´d get out on the pitch -even with the below zero weather- and force himself to do a few laps, practice a few dives and feints, and even get Ron out there to haphazardly throw golf balls.

Like Oliver had done for my very first practice, Harry would remind himself.

To say that he missed Wood´s enthusiasm would be an understatement; however, to say that he missed Wood´s grueling practices was another thing entirely. Those, Harry had convinced himself, he would never miss. Ever.

After a particularly rough practice, Harry was surprised to meet up with Malfoy, who appeared to be just coming up to practice.

"How´s your hand?" Harry asked, by way of greeting.

"Why do you care, Potter?" Malfoy scowled, turning away from him.

"Because I saw you hit it on the concrete. It looked like it hurt."

He whirled around, glaring. "You...you were there? Did you hear anything?" Malfoy snarled, eyes clouded dangerously with his fists clenched at his sides.

Although it would be a lie, Harry was too curious. He had to know just what exactly was going on. Smirking knowingly, he declared, "I heard everything."

Malfoy turned white as a sheet. He knows. He doesn´t know. He couldn´t know. No one here knows. "You did not. You´re lying, Potter!" He growled reproachfully.

"Oh no, Malfoy," Harry began, walking towards him. "I did hear everything. Every denial and every accusation. I know every thought, Malfoy." Lips curled upwards haughtily, Harry stepped towards him. "I know it all. Every...single...word," he ended, his face inches from a shocked Malfoy. I´ve got you. Now you have to tell me just what the hell is going on...

Malfoy reeled backwards. He really knows. Shit, Potter knows everything. An unforeseen conclusion seized his mind: Fuck. He´s going to tell everyone.

Meanwhile, Harry leaned back, crossing his arms victoriously. I´ve really got you this time, he stated smugly to himself, slow smile creeping over his face. Since he began to congratulate himself on a threat well carried out, Harry was, needless to say, rather shocked as a loud slap caused his cheeks to burn.

"Potter, you´re not supposed to know. You´re not. Which means neither is anyone else. Which means that you´re not going to tell anyone, or else," Malfoy hissed menacingly, his hands gripped in such tight fists that his knuckles were bleached a chalky white.

"Malfoy, I hardly think that you are in any position to threaten me," Harry coolly retorted.

Furiously sputtering, Malfoy flushed a dark hue of scarlet. "Potter-you don´t understand. If word gets out about this, I´m...I´m finished, do you hear me? No Malfoy ever-ever, you hear me?-stepped out of line that way." Things are bad enough as they are. I don´t need you fucking around with this, Potter.

"And just what way is that, Malfoy?" Harry demanded, curling his lip haughtily and expectantly. Just wait until I tell Ron and Hermione about this...

This is just too much, Malfoy thought, thoroughly piqued. His father´s reactions...how Narcissa refused to deal with it...all the truths and lies he´d been forced to tell. Now pushed far over the brink of patience and secrecy, Malfoy angrily snapped his answer. "You know perfectly well that I´m gay, Potter."

Harry´s reaction was instantaneous. "You´re what?!" Harry exclaimed, staggering backwards in utter disbelief. "I thought...I thought you were impotent or something!"

"What?" Malfoy hollered. His eyes flashed dangerously. "You mean you did lie?! You bastard!" Snarling, Malfoy lunged viciously at Harry.

"I am not!" Harry shouted, punching Malfoy´s jaw, causing him to reel backwards. Harry instantly regretted doing so, and let out a sharp yell after socking Malfoy.

Once he had recovered from being momentarily dazed, Malfoy tried another grab at Harry. Quickly, Harry sidestepped and then threw himself down on top of Malfoy fiercely, who had flipped himself quickly back on to his stomach.

For a full minute, the boys panted and glared at each other furiously in silence, refusing to look each other in the eye. Their position was an awkward one: On top of Malfoy, Harry had his legs on either side of his, and his hand planted on the ground beside Malfoy´s ears.

"You...you..." Malfoy gasped heatedly, his face reddening in embarrassment. "I don´t believe this..." Feeling a muscle in his jaw jump annoyingly, Malfoy abruptly turned his head to make it quit. Unfortunately, by turning his head, Malfoy found himself literally nose-to-nose with Harry.

Harry drew in a sharp breath. Directly below him was Draco Malfoy, the rudest and most despicable Slytherin since Snape in his opinion, and what was Harry doing? He was admiring him. You know, Harry thought absently, Malfoy really doesn´t look so bad.

Glaring as fiercely as he could, Malfoy squirmed on the grass underneath Harry. When his arm struck Harry´s, he was surprised at how warm he felt. He looked up in surprise at Harry, to find Harry looking down on him admiringly. Malfoy promptly went scarlet. "Just what the hell do you think you´re doing, Potter?"

At Malfoy´s sharp inquiry, Harry gave a start and realized his glasses were slipping off his nose. Something else Harry appeared to have realized was that he was in the ultimate improper condition.

Like lighting, Harry scrambled off Draco, looking disgusted with himself. Never again, Harry. Never again will you pull a stunt like that! he screamed, absolutely furious with himself. You...are going to go upstairs, have a nice shower, and never think of this again.

Although he was feeling very embarrassed and annoyed, Draco was able stumbled up just in time to see Harry beginning to stalk away. "Potter, wait!" he shouted after Harry, running over to him.

"What is it, Malfoy?" Harry spat out. "I´ve had enough of you for a few years now."

"I am not letting you leave without setting making sure you won´t let this news just accidentally slip out. So we´re going to make a Wizard´s Pact."

Harry scowled. "I don´t need to make some screwed up pact. If it means so much to you, just take my word for it that I won´t tell." What the hell is a Wizard´s Pact? Harry wondered briefly. I´ll have to talk to Hermione and Ron about all this...

What, and have you tell Weasley and Granger? I don´t think so, Malfoy thought grimly. "Potter, I need confirmation that you won´t try and tell your little Gryffindor friends about this. A Wizard´s Pact is the only way I can be sure this won´t get out." Malfoy was suddenly looking very tired.

"Look, Malfoy, I haven´t got time to do this. You know how long Wizard´s Pacts take!" Shit, I hope I´m right about that.

"What are you talking about, Potter? They take about thirty seconds, not hours. Oh, wait, that´s right-you grew up with Muggles," Malfoy sneered, and received a menacing glare in return. "Of course you don´t know how to do one-"

"If I were you, Malfoy, I´d shut my bloody trap," Harry shouted, jabbing Malfoy hard on the chest with his index finger. "I could blackmail the pants off of you. Literally. Just think of all the lovely Galleons I´d get out of your inheritance..." He smirked.

So you could do what, give it all that pathetic Weasley? Malfoy thought privately. Normally, he would´ve said that out loud, but the circumstances...he sighed. "Let´s just do the pact, okay? It doesn´t take long, like I said. All it does is make sure you don´t blab." God, and all this because I just wanted to play Quidditch...Ruddy game, I´ll never play it again.

"Fine, Malfoy! Whatever it takes to get out of here!" Harry exclaimed in an extremely irritated tone. His practice clothes were beginning to stick to his skin, and it was really very uncomfortable.

"Good. Okay, there´s this weird incantation we have to say. At the same time, and looking the other straight in the eye. Ready? Here it is: Blood for my blood, Bone for my Bone, This secret is bound, For as long as we both shall live. That last part´s redundant, considering we can break it anytime we want-together," he added with a smirk, seeing Harry´s features temporarily light up. "All right? Good, let´s go then."

"Wait, what was the rhyme thing again?"

Draco sighed deeply. "Blood for my blood, Bone for my bone, This secret is bound, For as long as we both shall live. Got it now?"

Harry murmured it under his breath a couple times, then nodded. "Yeah, got it. Okay, let´s get this over with."

They looked each other in the eye, and in unison, chanted:

"Blood for my blood,

Bone for my bone,

This secrets are bound,

As long as we both shall live."

As soon as the words were finished, a small orb of flame-blue light appeared between them. Part of it shot out and wrapped around Harry´s left wrist, and then around Draco´s right. The orb turned into an ordinary rope, binding them together by their wrists.

Draco smirked, watching Harry tug uneasily at the cord. "Not what you expected, eh, Potter? Well, not to worry. This´ll just drop off our wrists right about, oh, now."

Immediately, the rope loosed and fell in a heap on the group. Harry stared at Draco, and then shook his head, saying that he had to go. He turned to leave when Malfoy called back to him.

"Oh, and Potter? Something I forgot to mention. If you try to tell anyone my secret before we break the pact together, you will feel pain like none you´ve ever felt before."

Harry whirled around. "What? What´ll it do, kill me?"

"No," Draco said, a creepy smile crossing his face, "although don´t be surprised if you lose a limb or two." Seeing Harry´s expression, he laughed, and promptly disappeared to get into his own practice clothes.

Rubbish, Harry told himself, rushing to get back inside to have a nice, clear-headed shower.