"Well, Malfoy, you won't tell me, but I will find out your secrets."
Draco Malfoy has secrets. Lots of them. Returning to his 6th year, many no longer remain secret.
Harry Potter hates secrets. He loves to know everything, about everyone. He wil...
Harry pondered the events with the mirror for the rest of the night. His friends couldn't figure out what he was wrong with him.
Malfoy's biggest desire was... HIM!?
He knew Malfoy was gay, but, HIM?!
He couldn't wrap his head around it all.
He decided to go to sleep, but he couldn't. Malfoy was on his mind. He didn't know why! The beautiful pale angel faced boy was driving him crazy!
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Draco's mind was whirling. He had just told Harry Potter that he was in love with him. He knew that now he would get bullied even more now. Potter would never stop being mean to him. And he would have to suffer the rest of his life.
Draco was in the boys bathroom. It was empty and dark. He sat there, crying, wallowing in his self hate.
"Well well well, look at the little cat boy. Crying. Pathetic." Draco heard an all to familiar voice behind him. A voice that made him sick to the stomach and that made him wish to be dead.
"Don't ignore me you filthy faggot!" Draco's father yelled. Draco slowly turned to his father. He was giving up. Let his father kill him. There was nothing to life for. He wanted to die.
"Crucio!" His father yelled, pointing his wasn't at his disowned son, now lying on the floor, screaming in pain. His father repeatedly yelled curses at him, and soon after resorted to kicking the weak boy.
"AAAAAAAUHG NOOOO!" Draco screamed, choking on his own tears.
"Pathetic..." His father muttered, and then walked out.
Draco was left there lying unconscious on the floor for hours, until he finally came to the next morning. As soon as he opened his eyes, he saw his surroundings and remembered everything. He screamed.
"WHYYYYY!!!" He pounds his fists in a mirror, causing it to shatter. He pulls on his hair, screaming uncontrollably.
Draco grabs shards of broken glass and pulls up the sleeve of his blood and sweat covered shirt. He aggressively cuts more and more, adding to the hundreds of scars that already litter his wrists.
He weakly stands up, leaning against a sink with a mirror in front of it, looking at himself with disgust. Why did he have to born like this, with these-
Then the door opens.
Harry Potter.
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