23A/N: Reader: Scarlet, do you not have other stories that need your attention?
Me: Um, yes?
Reader: Then why the new story if you're so busy?
Well, thank you for asking. This is a story that I've actually been slowly working on for a while now. Yes, I do realize that I have other stories that need my undivided attention, but there's just no spark for them at the moment. It's so hard to write for something you have no inspiration for. I did a trial run of this story on an account I share with a friend in order to see if my efforts were all for naught, but it seemed to be well receipted so I thought, why the heck not? This is a story that I'm inspired to write and something that I want to write.
My other stories will be updated as well, most likely soon seeing as the winter holidays are approaching us. Some of my stories are under revision and others are slowly being added to. I hope to finish them up soon as some are nearing their end.
I hope you enjoy the concept of this story :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Secrets
Chapter One:
"I don't hit girls, Potter."
11/28/16
_
"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."
-Albus Dumbledore
Secrets often tend to be dark things.
Often times they are revealed.
Either they lead to a happy ending or a miserable turn of events.
It can be stated, whether big or small, that everyone has a secret that they prefer to keep hidden. Only that person can ever know the reason behind it, but everyone knows that no one wants their darkest secret to be revealed to the light.
Some secrets are small.
Others can make your life a misery.
There was a secret that none other than Harry knew- a secret so mysterious that the thought of anyone finding out caused a brief pause in the rhythm of his beating heart.
He would often find himself lying upon his bed, late at night, wandering through the depths of his dilemma.
His secret was dangerous. If it were to be revealed to anyone, his life would take a drastic turn for the worst. Not even Voldemort could expect the mystery that Harry held.
It was a surprise that he had made it this far in secrecy. Not only had he hid it well, but it was a secret that no one could ever possibly expect. The secret was such a heavy burden and Harry often found himself wondering at times how much longer he could handle its weight.
It left him restless, forcing him to toss and turn at night.
Tonight, was one of those nights.
Harry growled, unable to take it anymore as he threw the suffocating hot blanket away from his flushed body.
It was one of those nights.
A night that he wished that everyone knew of his secret-a night where he was so ready to scream the revelations out to the entire school. It was a night that he was most vulnerable to discovery.
He raised a shaky hand to rest upon his chest, wincing as his palm brushed against the cloth that overlay the tightly bound bandage. Not once was his chest alleviated of the constant ache that had developed the day before. His legs shifted as a shuddering sigh left his body.
Nights like these were the absolute worst.
Nothing could be done lest a clue to his secret be uncovered.
Harry let his head roll to the side where his eyes found his best friend slumbering only feet away in the bed next to his. All the boys in the dormitory were sound asleep save for Harry.
Harry laughed at the thought, noting the irony.
All the boys were indeed asleep.
Every. Single. One.
Harry slowly pushed himself into a seated position, leaning back to rest against the headboard. His lower abdomen was throwing a celebratory going away party and his muscles' restless movement left him moaning softly in pain.
Quickly deciding on a trip to the loo, Harry stealthily moved to the edge of his bed, stopping only once to cringe as the rickety springs squeaked in protest. Upon standing, Harry winced as the laws of gravity took hold and everything that was sitting suddenly remembered which way was down.
His fear of his secret leaking kept him from going to Madam Pomfrey and he found himself left to deal with the consequences that came with that sacred decision.
Tiptoeing to the bathroom was relatively easy. The teenage boys slept soundly, undisturbed by the slightest of noises.
Softly closing the door behind him, Harry made sure to lock it with a small charm that thorough research had provided him with. It wouldn't do for a simple Alohomora to be the cause his secret being revealed.
Finally alone and locked away safely in the darkened bathroom, Harry suddenly felt at ease. He was away from prying eyes.
Quickly, as if on fire, Harry tugged his shirt up and practically ripped it away from his body. His chest was heaving from the anticipation of what was to come.
Shaking hands fumbled with the pin that held the wrappings. A muttered curse slipped through clenched teeth as Harry failed to undo the clasp.
A small, whispered cry of victory left his lips as the pin gave way and the edge of the bandage fell. There seemed to be no quicker way to remove the wrapped cloth than pulling and pushing it away from his sore and abused chest.
The wrappings gave and soon Harry found himself almost crying out in relief as his hidden bosom was revealed to the world. Gentle hands roamed and caressed, softly massaging the tender flesh.
Dusty pink nipples were erect in the chilled air and the slightest touch had Harry whimpering.
From the corner of his eye, Harry caught himself in the mirror. Curious, he turned, revealing the front of his naked torso to the replica in the looking glass. Emerald pools behind rimmed glasses peered back curiously, as if asking him why he was suddenly staring.
It was nothing to behold really, but from this angle, his secret was revealed to the world.
They were the largest A-cup at best, hardly even a B, but Harry knew that years of malnutrition and poorly constructed bras had led to their demise.
He was grateful, however, for their size, in the aspect that his secret could be well hidden and the slightest charm could allow himself to be seen topless.
They were small, yet they revealed his secret to anyone who could sneak a peek.
They were her secret.
They were swollen, ripe in their prime. In their tender state, the tightly bound wrapping caused her immense pain, but Harry knew there was nothing that could be done. Lest her secret be revealed, she would bare through the pain.
Already had she survived five horrid years.
Her secret was well within the dark, so well hidden that hardly anyone who looked knew it was there.
Her closest friends, Hermione and Ron, knew she was keeping something from them. However, she had no doubt that they surely thought that her secret had something to do with Voldemort and the nightmares she had been having as of late. Never would they ever suspect her of something so preposterous.
Harry honestly didn't know how she had kept this in the dark for so long.
She had never been good when it came to keeping secrets as someone always eventually found them out. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that it was the only secret that was solely hers.
Only she knew this secret.
For so long had Harry dealt with everyone knowing every detail of her personal life. For once she had something that they didn't know about.
Rather, she had two things they didn't know about.
Harry cursed. How could she have forgotten? She had left her precious cargo buried at the bottom of her trunk.
Walking carefully towards the toilets, Harry made sure to make no sudden movements. She only had one rag to last the entire night. Anymore "spillage" would result in a bloody mess; literally.
This was another thing she hated.
She didn't mind the bleeding, no. It was, after all, a natural part of life and a healthy flow often signified a healthy reproductive system. It was the messy part that she minded.
She had seen enough blood and pain in her lifetime so a menstrual cycle was nothing to cry over. It was just the mess that came with it that bothered her. The constant changing of pads and the accidental spots on her underwear did nothing to help her secret.
Girls bleed.
It was simple knowledge.
Harry Potter, on the other hand, was a man and therefore did not bleed.
Or, at least, that was what the entirety of the wizarding world thought.
Harry had been born a girl.
Her parents had apparently thought that changing the appearance of her sex would change the outcome of what was to happen.
The prophecy had been mildly gender specific and Voldemort, while a cunning Slytherin, didn't seem to notice the advanced charm that had been placed upon her. Therefore, the outcome of that night was what it was.
Harry honestly did not mind being the opposite gender of what everyone thought she was. Surprisingly, she found more often than not that she quite enjoyed being female. She had been acting as a male for so long that being herself seemed genuinely easy.
It was peaceful when she could be who she truly was, even if she and her "family" were the only ones who knew.
Her aunt knew of the spell that had been placed on her as she was the one who saw when it wore off.
Her uncle and cousin, however, knew nothing.
Her aunt had been strict about keeping her secret, constantly reminding her that this was only another sign that constituted her as being a freak. She knew her aunt held some form of guilt of her mother's death, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
It was her last favor to Lily; keeping her secret.
Harry, while unrelentingly so, was grateful to her aunt in this aspect.
Her aunt still treated her like the dirt under her feet and did nothing to soften the scathing remarks that left her mouth. To her aunt, she was her nephew-the freak.
There was nothing normal about Harry and Harry knew this.
After all, who could say that their parents spelled them to be the opposite gender to deter a madman who tried to kill her and failed, whose entire life had been a lie until she was suddenly famous in a world she didn't know existed where said madman was still trying to kill her?
Harry let out a tired sigh and looked down, only to realize that she hadn't bled as much as she had thought.
Which was good, don't get her wrong, but still messy.
She felt dirty with the thing half full.
Alas, there was nothing that could be done lest she use an actual rag and risk bleeding everywhere throughout the night.
That would be difficult to explain to the other boys who did not have a period.
Blood down there would only be seen as something seriously wrong.
Sighing, Harry reluctantly cleaned as best as she could until the situation was at least tolerable.
She headed back to bed, knowing that the cramps currently parading through her lower abdomen were calming down so she could have at least a few hours of sleep before the morning came.
It was the rowdy voices of boy that woke her up.
She groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes as the morning light peeked in through the windows.
She softly murmured an incantation under her breath, grateful for the small gift of wandless magic that she was slowly, but surely, working on accomplishing.
The change in her voice was sudden.
"Would you lot knock it off! Some of us would like to sleep in!"
"Ah, c'mon Harry! It's Valentine's Day! You, especially, should be excited for that!"
Harry groaned loudly.
How could she forget the worst day of the year where dozens of giggling girls threw themselves at her with cards, chocolates, and love potions?
She may look like a boy, but that didn't mean jack when it came to feelings and emotions.
She was a heterosexual woman disguised as a man.
Her love life was non-existent
There were, of course, the rare gay male that would show interest, but even Harry knew that going there would blow her cover. After all, how long would it be before the guy realized she didn't have the parts that he wanted?
Valentine's day was truly a miserable holiday.
Ron seemed oblivious to her discomfort as he only rubbed salt in the wound by mentioning his sister- his heterosexual sister with a crush the size of Europe. His sister who was in love with another woman and did not know it.
Harry could only feel sympathy for the poor girl and always tried to let her down gently, to get her to move on to someone who could actually return her feelings. However, each rejection seemed to only encourage the young Weasley as she took it as a sign of denial of Harry's true feelings and proclaimed that "he" was sweet in thinking that he could protect her should he not date her.
It was a known fact that most people who got too close to Harry suffered; this was another reason why the young brunette's love life did not exist.
Harry knew that her chances of love were slim to none. It was unlikely that she would survive the battle against Voldemort, more or less the same that she would ever find someone who would love her for her.
After all, how do you tell someone that the boy-who-lived is actually a girl hidden for the sake of her safety?
Most her admirers only wanted the boy for his fame. The other half only wanted him for his looks and to have the chance to say, "I dated the boy-who-lived."
Harry scoffed. "More like the girl-who-lived," she mumbled scathingly under her breath.
The dorm room was filled with a cacophony of noise as the rowdy gentlemen quite sleepily got ready for the day.
It was a Saturday, the best day of the week, but now also the worst.
Harry could only lay there, glaring blearily up at the cobbled stone ceiling. She did not want to move. However, the rumbling of her stomach brought a frown to her face. Yes, she was used to periods of going without food, but Hogwarts had brought back her appetite. After all, when free food is offered, it would be rude of her to decline.
Giving in to her stomach's desires, Harry groaned and ungracefully rolled out of the bed. Ron saw her do this and laughed.
"Harry, mate. If the girls saw you do that they'd be put off."
Harry could only spare him a glare. "Says the slob."
Ron frowned, playfully glaring. He placed a hand to his chest. "I'm wounded."
Harry narrowed her eyes at her best friend, suspicious of his cheery attitude. Normally Ron would be easily butt hurt and agitated, but today he seemed to be in good spirits, an unlikely feat for the red head.
"Are you feeling alright today?"
Ron turned to look at her, brow furrowed in a curious glance. "Alright today? Why are you asking me that?"
Harry shrugged, stretching. "You're acting awfully bright this morning. No one slipped you a pepper up potion while we were sleeping, did they?"
Ron scoffed and laughed loudly, causing Harry to wince at the brashness of his booming voice. "Harry, mate! It's Valentine's day-the day that I will finally sweep a lucky lady off her feet!"
Harry frowned, turning back to look at him as she gathered her things from her trunk. "I thought you were going to attempt and fail horribly at wooing 'Mione?"
"Ha ha. Very funny, Harry." Ron scowled, cheeks slowly turning a bright red. "Hermione doesn't like me like that, ya know? So, I thought, 'Hey! You're a handsome young chap! There are plenty of girls out there just dying to be with you!' And thus, I have devised a plan that will have all of the ladies just begging to be with me."
Harry could only shake her head, knowing full well that Ron's affections towards Hermione were requited and the poor girl would get her hopes up once again this Valentine's day. The Weasley would then make the same mistake and Harry would be left to pick up the pieces...again.
"Ron, how do you know Hermione doesn't like you? I mean, she's a complicated woman. Who knows? Maybe deep down she has a passion for redheads."
Walking past, Ron stopped to give Harry a pat on the shoulder. "Mate, I know you only want the best for everyone, but Hermione doesn't like me like that and ya know what? I don't need her to be happy. There is an entire school full of girls just waiting for me to romance them."
Harry sighed, glancing towards the window where the rays of light shone through the glass. "If you say so."
It would be another year like all the ones before. Ron would make yet another mistake and Hermione's hopes would be dashed. Honestly, men were too thick!
"Looks like Hermione and I will be spending Valentine's day alone...again." It was a quiet whisper, but it was still loud enough to send a pang through her heart.
This was the most painful day because it was the day that she was reminded of what she could and would never have. Love.
Harry waited until all the boys had pranced out of the room, all eager to start the day, to get dressed. Tired and drained already, she quickly made to change, pulling on her baggiest of clothes. If she were to wallow in self-pity and misery today, then she would do so comfortably. After all, who did she have to impress?
Grabbing her things, Harry slipped on her shoes and headed out of the door. Her hair received only a run through of a hand and her glasses perched crookedly at the edge of her nose. Today would not be a day of trying.
She moved at a sluggish pace, not enthusiastic to start the day at all. All around her was the chirpy chatter of excited students and the disgusting sound of teenagers in love. Honestly. Harry wished she could tell them all to go get a room.
Her painstakingly slow and miserable pace was only about to become even more painful when she caught a flash of platinum blond hair above the crowd.
Clenching her fists and gritting her teeth, Harry slowly exhaled through her nose. She tried her best to calm herself, because today was not the day to mess with her. She was cramping, moody, and miserable. If the wrong word left his mouth, it would take all her willpower not to send his perfect body flying.
"Potter!"
Harry went rigid, stopping in mid-stride. Grumbling under her breath, she turned to glare at the owner of the voice.
And there, striding out from the crowd with an air of authority, was the bane of her existence; Draco Malfoy.
And while Harry wasn't one to deny that as a specimen, the Malfoy heir was indeed something to behold, she was inclined to despise him by the means of which he chose to act. After all, beauty was only skin deep.
However, on another level, Harry knew that there was some part of her that was thankful that the spoiled prat existed. He was the only one to treat her just as if she were any other person and did not bow down at her feet.
"Malfoy."
Draco Malfoy gave Harry his infamous smirk, coming to a stop only a mere foot away from where she stood.
"And what, pray tell, does the mighty Potter think he is doing, dressed like that on a day such as this? Honestly, Potter. You look absolutely dreadful."
Eye twitching, Harry clenched her fists and narrowed her eyes. "I know perfectly well what I look like, Malfoy. Unlike you, I don't spend three hours in front of a mirror each morning."
"Oh trust me, Potter. We all know that," Draco scoffed, causing his surrounding Slytherins to laugh. "And there's no need to make jealous assumptions. I know it's hard to believe that such beauty comes naturally when you're as hideous as a hippogriff's behind."
Harry only glared at the pompous prat that stood smirking triumphantly in front of her. Her fist clenched painfully tight by her side, aching to make contact with his smug face. All she had to do was swing and he would go down.
Instead, she took a deep breath, bit her tongue, and turned around.
"I wasn't aware that beauty was only skin deep, Malfoy. But I guess in your case, you fall short on both ends," she stated, head held high.
'I don't need a detention on a Saturday.' Harry thought as she started to walk away.
"I don't know about that. Maybe there's no hope for you after all, Potter. You couldn't see beauty if it hit you in your ugly face." He drawled, a malicious mirth laced in his voice. "The girls obviously don't want you for your looks."
Harry froze, rigid.
"Struck a nerve, did I?"
The corridor was now completely silent as a single pair of footsteps echoed off the stone walls.
"You know it too, don't you Potter." Warm breath tickled the shell of her ear. "They only want you for your fame. That's all you are to them, isn't it? Poster boy Potter."
Harry remained still, staring straight ahead.
Deep down, she knew what he said was true. After all, when Merlin was giving away looks, she got there a little too late.
Already downtrodden and miserable, Harry did the only thing that would make her feel better-she turned around and soccer punched Draco Malfoy square in the face. There was a crunch and a yell; it was satisfying.
There were gasps and whispers as Harry stood there, glaring down at the Malfoy heir who now lay on the cobbled stone floor, holding his now crooked and bleeding nose.
"I've been wanting to do that for a long time."
And with that, she turned and began to walk away with her shoulders squared and her head held high. While she lost the battle with her temper, she felt exhilarated. The blood pumped and rushed through her veins as all the tension and misery she felt early left with that single punch.
"You'll pay for this, Potter!"
The voice was muffled and pained and Harry couldn't help but to throw her head back and laugh.
By the time she reached the Great Hall, news of what she had done reached the ears of the rest of the student body. There were whispers and long stares as she walked towards her seat, all of which she was more than used to.
The Gryffindor table, upon seeing her, erupted into cheers and shouts, congratulating her on doing the one thing they all at one point wanted to do. Harry smiled sheepishly and although she wasn't exactly proud of what she had done, she knew the prat deserved it.
She took her seat next to a giddy Ron and an irritated looking Hermione. Harry bit her lip and pretended not to notice her intelligent friend's scathing glare. She set out to slather jam upon a piece of toast and mentally prayed that the lecture would be avoided.
Alas, her prays were left unanswered.
At the rough slap on the back that left her sputtering, Harry turned to Ron who was laughing, mouth full of food. She felt queasy at the sight, but played it off as, after all, she was a male who was used to such things from her male best friend.
"Harry, mate! Is it true? Did you really hit Malfoy?"
Harry looked up and met Hermione's questioning look before quickly looking ashamedly away. She forced a laugh and nodded.
"Knocked him square down on his arse, he did!"
Harry turned to see Seamus grinning and holding two thumbs up.
"Way to go, Harry!" Ron yelled, muffled through food. "I wish I could have seen it! The look on the ferret's face must have been priceless!"
Harry forced a laugh and mumbled a quiet yeah.
"Harry! I cannot believe you! Violence has no place in the halls of Hogwarts! You, especially you, are much better than that!"
Harry's eye twitched as she looked towards her female companion who sat across from her with her arms crossed tightly and a scowl etched upon her pretty face. Now irritated at being lectured, Harry tilted her head and looked curiously at Hermione.
"I recall you doing the same thing in third year."
Hermione spluttered indignantly. "He called me a you-know-what!"
"And he called me ugly."
Hermione was left shell-shocked, mouth agape. "You punched him because he insulted your looks?! Harry, he does that every day! I didn't take you as one to be vain!"
Harry only shrugged, taking a bite of her jam covered toast. And with a mouthful of bread like the man she was, she looked thoughtfully at the toast in her hand and said, "Maybe I just felt like punching the prat."
"Harry!"
Harry looked blankly at her infuriated friend. "We all know he deserved it." She looked around and saw that the mail had yet to arrive. Thinking fast, she quickly switched the conversation topic before the lecture could continue to morals. "So how many valentines do you think you'll receive today, Hermione?"
Hermione quickly snapped her mouth shut and turned to glare at the redhead who was too busy shoveling food into his mouth to notice her scathing look. "Actually, I'm expecting only one. Theodore Nott asked me to Hogsmeade."
Suddenly choking, Harry coughed harshly, wheezing out, "Nott?!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and talked loudly, leaving Harry under the suspicion that she was trying to capture the attention of Ron to make him jealous. "Yes, Nott. I wouldn't take you as a prejudice one, Harry. Yes, he is in Slytherin, but he's a good guy. I figured I'd give him a chance seeing as some people are just too dunderheaded to ask for one."
Harry, gulping down some pumpkin juice to ease the flow of food, looked quizzically at her friend. "Did he even try to this year?"
Hermione pursed her lips and looked away, telling Harry everything she needed to know.
"He's going to be furious, ya know?"
Hermione only shrugged, looking at the oblivious ginger. "I could care less. Honestly, I'm tired of chasing and dropping hints. This time, I'm not going to be the one to suffer."
Harry could only nod, knowing full well that she would get to listen to the brunt of the storm that was steadily brewing. Ron would be extra furious at the fact that it was a Slytherin that Hermione would be spending her Valentine's day with.
Oh well. Harry could only tell him that she told him so.
He had his chance and he didn't take it.
Sighing, Harry raised her cup of pumpkin juice to her lips. "I suppose it'll just be me and Hedwig this Valentine's day."
"Surely there's a nice girl you could take to Hogsmeade?"
Harry shook her head, looking up at the enchanted ceiling that was shedding sparkling flakes of snow. "I don't particularly fancy anyone this year."
"What about Ginny?"
Harry transfixed a steadfast look onto the brunette across from her. "Ginny is like a sister to me. Plus, it'd just be weird."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Trust me, you two will end up together some day, whether you like it or not."
Harry's eyes widened. "What makes you so sure of that?!"
"It's classic literature, Harry. Trust me. The hero always falls in love with the girl that is in love with him. Or rather, in this case, the girl will get the hero." Hermione stood up. "You'll see." She winked and then started to walk off, calling back over her shoulder. "Don't think you've avoided the lecture! You do not simply hit people, Harry!"
Harry groaned, slumping in her seat.
Hermione was wrong though. This time, the hero would not get the girl.
Rather, the hero would get no one; only a cold and lonely bed to return home to.
Suddenly left with no appetite, Harry pushed her plate away and stood. Ron turned to her, a questioning look on his face.
"Where ya going, mate?"
"To get some fresh air. All this talk about love is making me queasy."
Ron laughed gaily, shaking his head. "Only you, Harry."
Harry returned his smile with a fake one of her own and turned quickly to begin her exit.
On her way, she slowed down her pace upon seeing Draco Malfoy entering the Great Hall with a newly healed nose. Upon seeing her, the prat smirked, a mirthful glow in his eyes. He raised his head and called out, "Watch your back, Potter! This isn't over!"
Harry only stood flabbergasted as he and his friends walked past towards the Slytherin table, leaving Harry to wonder why he was in such a good mood after what she had done. Surely, he would have been infuriated?
Leaving the Hall, Harry pondered over the events that had just transpired. A Malfoy in a good mood never meant good things to come. It was evident that he had not told any of the professors and even if they had heard the news by now, none of them had done anything. How had she gotten away with this one?
It was her lone footsteps that echoed along the empty halls and she found herself outside, drawn to the tree beside of the Great Lake.
The air was cold and dry, the skies covered with grayish white clouds that threatened to burst and shower the world with its icy fruit.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Harry sat down at the base of the tree and stared out over the expanse of the murky waters.
So, this was how she was to spend her Valentine's day, huh? Alone by the lake.
A sudden screech from above interrupted her thoughts and she saw an unfamiliar bird flying towards her. Watching silently as it landed, she took in its beauty and responded when it dropped a letter into her lap.
Watching the bird, a hawk she thought, carefully, she reached out to stroke its feathers. It leaned into her touch before hopping back. It then spread its mighty wingspan and took off, back into the sky and flying gracefully away.
Looking down at the envelope in her lap, Harry suddenly grew weary. Would this be a love letter from a love-struck girl? Or maybe a sickly poem?
Tentatively unfolding it, her brow furrowed upon seeing the elegant script upon the yellowed parchment.
Potter,
While I do agree that you deserve some form of punishment for your little charade from earlier, I also believe that I should be the one teaching you a lesson. Therefore, you'll get away with this one on the professor standpoint, Potter. However, I would watch my back if I were you. You never know what dangers could be lurking in the shadows. And unlike you, Potter, I will not resort to such uncivilized physical ways. Instead, I will retaliate with an attack of much higher class.
After all, I don't hit girls, Potter.
Malfoy
Harry couldn't help but crack a smile at the pompous prat's use of words.
She tilted her head back against the tree and laughed. "If only you knew, Malfoy. If only you knew."
A/N: I am looking for someone to help with the ideas, plot, and grammar. If you are interested, please let me know :)
I look forward to posting the next chapter soon.
~Scarlet