Don’t Tell Potter—Malfoy Loves Him

Chapter 1

Hermione Granger had a secret.

At first, she refused to say it.

Later, she wished she had spoken up sooner.

“Look at that, the Boy Who Lived has time for patrol again, with his two little sidekicks,” the blond boy said, eyebrow raised, strolling along like he owned the corridor.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry shot back, clearly not in the mood, and kept walking.

Draco Malfoy was not about to let it go. He stepped right into Harry’s path, chin tipped up, all arrogance.

“In such a hurry, are you,” he said. “What trouble are you off to now, Potter?”

Harry’s answer was a flare of anger and a fist coming up, with Ron grabbing at his arm from the side.

It was basically a daily routine. If they ran into Draco Malfoy, a scene would follow.

Hermione had gotten used to it, almost numb to the noise.

She could not stand Draco, and a big part of that was the way he had spat “Mudblood” at her, and how he never seemed to run out of ways to bait Harry.

Still, the longer it went on, the stranger it felt. No matter what was happening, that blond menace always seemed to spot Harry first, then march over like it was his job to pick a fight.

During the Triwizard Tournament, when Harry stayed under the water far too long, Hermione was sick with worry.

She kept scanning the stands, anxious and helpless, and that was when she saw Draco.

He looked even worse than she felt.

Hermione even heard him snarling under his breath, “Damn it, Potter. How are you still not up yet? The great Boy Who Lived has been down there forever, and nobody’s going to check on him?”

He kept gripping the railing, leaning over, trying to see into the lake.

Hermione hesitated, then had a ridiculous thought, if Harry did not come up soon, Draco might actually jump in after him.

The idea startled her so badly she nearly laughed at herself.

Then Harry finally surfaced. He had even brought someone else up with him.

The relief hit so hard Hermione’s knees went weak.

The downside was that the Boy Who Lived also came away with a brutal cold.

They stayed by his bed in the hospital wing for a while, then got up to leave.

Ron was talking nonstop, as usual, but Hermione was distracted.

As she stepped out, she thought she saw something slip back inside.

“Ron, I need to tell Harry something,” Hermione said, turning around. “You go ahead.”

Ron complained, but she was already moving, fast, almost running.

A moment later, through the window, she saw something she would never forget.

Draco Malfoy, that blond jerk, bent down and kissed Harry Potter while he slept.

“Merlin…” Hermione breathed, the sound escaping before she could stop it.

Draco straightened instantly, sharp as a whip.

“Who’s there?”

Hermione jolted, spun, and bolted down the corridor.

Her heart was pounding so hard it felt ridiculous.

That was Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy had kissed the Boy Who Lived on the forehead.

And the look in his eyes… Merlin help her, it was not mocking. It was not smug. It was something else entirely.

Hermione could not wrap her head around it.

Draco Malfoy liked Harry?

That made no sense. He was a menace.

At breakfast, Hermione took a sip of pumpkin juice and stared gloomily across the table.

Harry, completely unaware, was eating with real enthusiasm.

Ron was stuffing another chicken leg into his mouth like the world might end.

Hermione’s irritation flared, and before she could stop herself, she smacked the back of Ron’s head.

“All you do is eat, Ron.”

“Hey,” Ron protested, offended. “What’s wrong with eating?”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, then froze.

The blond Slytherin menace was strolling over again, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.

Oh, Merlin.

Draco stopped nearby, eyes on Harry, that familiar lazy drawl slipping into place.

“Well, look who can stand again,” he said. “How was the taste of that icy water, Potter?”

Hermione thought, here we go again.

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