Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is JK's.
Contains DH spoilers. EWE. Takes place a year after the Battle of Hogwarts. Students new and old have returned for a celebration to mark the one year anniversary of Voldemort's defeat and the news that the school will reopen as normal in September and welcome back all students, including those who have missed out on their final year.
Author's note: It's been a long time since I read DH and I've read far too much fanfiction in my time, so apologies if I've made any canon mistakes. This story is supposed to be canon compliant until the end of book 7 (not including the epilogue).
I've been playing with different points of view and I'm also writing this story from Draco's side of things. So in case anyone's interested, it will be posted up soon.
Please Note: Contains SLASH. Rated M to be safe.
The Room of Requirement
Chapter 1:
Harry stopped outside the blank expanse of wall that had once been so familiar to him. He had spent many hours in the room behind the stone, once upon a time.
It was a full year since he had last been inside. A year since the fiendfyre had destroyed the room, with all its multiple facets, for good. A year since the war, since Voldemort's death at Harry's own hand.
Without really meaning to Harry found himself sliding to the floor, leaning against the tapestry on the opposite wall. And it was a year since he'd seen Draco Malfoy.
The Slytherin had escaped Azkaban only thanks to the deeds of his mother. But Harry couldn't bring himself to be angry. He'd seen Malfoy's actions with his own eyes. Seen him lower his wand against Dumbledore, seen his terror. Lucius deserved everything he got and more, but Draco...
The sound of approaching footsteps pulled Harry out of his musings. Unwilling to be found, especially here, Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak, which he kept with him more out of nostalgia than anything else these days, and draped it over himself.
The footsteps slowed as they drew closer and Harry watched as a figure came to a halt a few feet away from where he was hidden. The person was tall and wearing heavy robes with the hood pulled low over his head. At least Harry assumed it was a man. The figure was slender, but tall enough and broad enough to appear masculine.
As he watched, the man stepped slowly towards the wall. When he was less than a foot away, he lifted a hand, running it over the stone. The man's robe fell back slightly and Harry caught a glimpse of pale skin before the hand was withdrawn.
The brief glimpse, along with the location, was enough to send a host of memories flooding back. The last time Harry had been here, well... he had come to a lot of realisations since then.
At the time everything had been too hectic to think about anything beyond the next few moments and his ultimate task. But in the weeks that followed. The weeks of funerals and celebrations, Harry had had a lot of time to think. Time to remember.
He and Ginny had not gotten back together, as everyone had expected. They had both changed too much, grown too quickly and grown apart. Ginny would always be an important part of his life, but he saw her as a friend now and nothing more.
Often he had recalled the moments spent in the room of hidden things, the confrontation with Malfoy and their escape.
He had never really questioned his reasons for saving Malfoy. After all, enough people had died that day and Malfoy, though a bully, was not evil. But the broom ride that had saved them both, the ride that had brought Harry closer to Malfoy than anything else ever had...
He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall as he remembered the feel of Malfoy's body pressed against his. The feel of Malfoy's hands clinging desperately to him. The sound of Malfoy's harsh breathing in his ear.
That memory did funny things to his insides.
A sound from the figure across the hall brought back other memories of the blond Slytherin. He looked up to see the figure leaning against the wall, shoulders shaking, his face buried in his arms. Harry froze, unsure what to do. The man obviously thought he was alone. Should Harry leave or...
It was at that moment that the man's hood fell back and Harry almost gasped aloud as the memory in his head merged with the sight before him. The bathroom of his imagination faded but the occupant remained the same. There was no mistaking that hair.
He was on his feet before he realised what he was doing. His thoughts were filled with the last and only time Harry had ever come across Malfoy crying. Even now he still hated himself for casting Sectumsempra.
He took a step forward still uncertain of what he should do. He knew Malfoy wouldn't appreciate knowing that Harry had seen him vulnerable yet again, but... how could he leave?
He took another step forward until he was beside Malfoy and reached out a hand to touch the blond's shoulder. Instantly Malfoy froze.
"Who's there?"
Harry said nothing, knowing Malfoy would recognise his voice.
Malfoy scowled. "I know it's you Potter. Hiding under that stupid cloak of yours, no doubt."
Malfoy reached for his wand and Harry shifted his grip to hold the Slytherin's arm still.
"Don't." He kept his voice low. A request, rather than a demand.
With his spare hand, Harry pulled off his cloak, letting it slide silently to the floor. He kept his face neutral, knowing that pity would be just as provoking as anger.
"What do you want Potter?" Malfoy's voice was harsh, but he stopped reaching for his wand.
The word 'you' was on the tip of Harry's tongue but he held it back.
"To talk." Harry replied instead.
Malfoy looked at him incredulously. "You want to talk? To me?"
Harry nodded. Letting his hand fall, Harry stepped back, resuming his place on the floor on the other side of the corridor. He would let Malfoy decide.
For a moment the Slytherin stood, looking torn, before gracefully sliding down the wall to sit opposite Harry. The two boys sat in silence staring at each other, before Draco's impatience finally broke through.
"Well? Talk."
Harry paused for a second before speaking, still unsure what he wanted to say. Or rather, he knew exactly what he wanted to say, but couldn't say it. He didn't have anything to say really, he just wanted Draco to stay. For them to interact without hexes and insults for once. And here, of all places, Harry felt sure they could do it.
But he was on unstable ground. He wanted to ask Malfoy if he was ok, but knew that would send the hexes flying faster than anything. He wanted to ask what Malfoy had been thinking about, but didn't think that would fare any better. So instead he talked about himself.
"I've been sitting here for a while, you know, thinking about everything. It feels like such a long time since I was here last. How can a year be such a long time?"
Malfoy said nothing, but didn't hex him either, so Harry continued.
"It's good to be back though. Even with all the memories... Its good to be home."
"How can you call this home? After everything?" Despite his derisive tone, there was a hint of curiosity beneath Malfoy's words.
"It's the first real home I've ever known."
Harry paused, but Malfoy said nothing else so he continued.
"McGonagall said that the room was gone. And I know she must be right. If the fiendfyre was strong enough to destroy a horcrux, how could the room have survived it? But I keep wanting to try, just in case."
"Why?" There was something in Malfoy's voice that Harry couldn't place. "Why would you ever want to go in there again after...?"
He trailed off and Harry realised that what he'd heard in Draco's voice was fear.
"There are other things that happened in that room. Before the war. Like in fifth year with Dumbledore's Army and..."
Harry stopped as he saw Draco flinch at the old headmasters name.
"I was there, you know. That night on the tower."
"Figures." Malfoy's voice was bitter.
"You're not a bad person Malfoy."
Even as he said it, Harry knew Malfoy was going to react badly, but he was expecting a hex. When Malfoy launched himself across the corridor it was the last thing Harry had anticipated. He caught the Slytherin's fist before he could land a punch.
"Malfoy, please..."
Malfoy paused for a second, then surprised Harry by dropping his fist, though he continued to glare.
"What do you want from me Potter?"
"I want..."
Suddenly Harry realised quite how close they were. He could feel Malfoy's breath on his face, see the flecks of blue in Malfoy's stormy eyes.
"I want..." Harry licked his lips, fighting a losing battle against the need that was coursing through him.
Harry moaned. "Merlin, I want you."
Harry saw the surprise register in Draco's eyes, a second before he gave into temptation and crushed Malfoy's lips with his own.
Harry had been dreaming about this for months. But nothing could have possibly prepared him for the reality. The softness of Malfoy's lips, the silky smooth strands of hair between Harry's fingers, the feel of his hard, angular body against Harry's…
And then Malfoy kissed him back.