Harry ducked his head as a fat mostly-naked cherub-like creature zoomed past.

"Bloody Valentine's Day," he grumbled.

"Oh, mate, it's not so bad," Ron clapped him on the back, making his steps falter on the uneven flagstones of the dungeon. Harry looked up at his tall red-headed friend. He had a slight pink tint to his cheeks and his eyes were far away and dreamy.

"Probably better when you've got a girlfriend," Harry said as he pushed up his glasses.

"Having a girlfriend is brilliant, isn't it?" Ron sighed.

"I wouldn't know." Harry tried to keep the self-pity out of his voice, but failed. Miserably. Ron hadn't seemed to notice. He waved a hand in the air in front of his face where some hearts with lovey-dovey sayings written on them were inexplicably dancing in the air near his head.

"The ball is tonight, Harry. You've got to find a date. It's fourth year all over again, innit? Well, not for me, but you know."

Harry sighed and shuffled his feet towards Potions class a little bit faster. He hated Potions, but he hated all the Valentine's Day decorum even more, and he knew Professor Snape's classroom was his only reprieve. The Potions Master had made it abundantly clear that there would be no deliveries, no flying hearts, no passed notes, and definitely no naked angels in his class. Ever. Harry briefly smiled, enjoying the irony of agreeing with the greasy teacher he was almost always at odds with. He was actually looking forward to Potions for the first time in his seven years at Hogwarts.

A girl with bushy hair joined them from a side corridor, carrying an armful of books, roses, letters, and small packets of chocolate balanced on top. "Ron," Hermione breathed, "you have got to stop sending me these things!"

Ron's face paled. "I didn't send all that, Herm." He turned his head to and fro, as if to find the culprit right there in the dungeon hallway. "Who's it all from?!"

Hermione scoffed and tossed her hair over a shoulder. "I don't know, Ronald. I thought it was you. I mean, I'm already going to the dance with you and-" she stopped talking suddenly and looked at Harry, as if she just realized he was there. "Oh, Harry. Have you found a date yet? I know Lavender is single now and Parvati-"

Harry held up a hand. "No, 'Mione, thank you. I told you, I'm fine."

"But you have to go the dance! It's our last year. Our last dance!" She gasped suddenly, struck by an idea. "I know! You can come with us!" Hermione bobbled her packages as another naked cherub buzzed right up to her and dropped another chocolate on the pile.

Harry laughed as Ron turned an even paler shade of white. "No, that's-"

He felt a tug at his foot and then the dungeon floor was rising up to meet him. He hit hard, his face bouncing off the uneven stones, his glasses skittering away. Laughter reached his ears, the kind that comes from the expense of others. His expense. Harry knew it well.

"Mind your step, there, Scarhead."

Harry groaned and pushed himself up to his feet. What else could possibly happen today? He muttered a summoning spell and felt his glasses land gently in his outstretched hand. He put them on, noting a small crack in the left lens.

"Shut it, Malfoy, you prick," Ron came to his defense.

"Ooh, so sorry Weaselby, didn't know you spent your family's life savings on your girlfriend for Valentine's. How's your family going to eat now?" Malfoy's pale pointed face held his signature smirk. Crabbe and Goyle flanked him, guffawing at his terrible put-downs. "I do hope it's worth it and you get laid tonight." He winked at Hermione.

Ron turned bright red and stepped towards Malfoy, fist raised as if to hit him. Harry stepped between them before Ron could do something stupid. He put a finger in Malfoy's face. The Slytherin was still taller than him, probably always would be, but it didn't bother Harry. "Don't," he warned. He held Malfoy's steely glare. "Go to class, Ron."

Hermione was nodding her head. "Help me with my packages, Ron," she urged.

"Hermione, didn't you hear what he said?"

"I really don't care Ron. He doesn't matter."

Somewhere nearby a bell rang, signaling how late they all were for class. Hermione hurried away, Ron on her heels, picking up the chocolates she was dropping. "Everyone knows you're my girlfriend, don't they?" he was asking. Goyle and Crabbe broke away from Malfoy, heading to class as well.

"Where are you going?" Malfoy asked them angrily.

"Potions class," Crabbe muttered. "Got to pass this year or my dad will kill me."

"Me too," Goyle said.

"Unbelievable," Malfoy crossed his arms. "They always cheat off me anyway." Then, as if he just remembered that Harry was there, he resumed his cool glare. "What are you looking at, Potter?"

"You can't say things like that to people."

"You know who I am," Malfoy scoffed. "Yes, I can. I can say what I like to whomever I like."

Harry took a step closer. "You can't say things like that to my friends. I don't care who you are. I won't let you."

"Oh yeah? You going to stop me, Scarhead?" Malfoy drawled as he looked up and down the hallway his movements exaggerated, dramatic. "I don't see anyone stopping you. And I don't see any members of your fan club around to see you be so.. what's the word? Chivalrous? Or maybe it's righteous?" He stepped closer to Harry, his voice lowering considerably. "Or maybe it's just been a quiet year, right Harry? Nothing happening, no one needing you? Even your friends don't need you. Why would they when they have each other."

"Shut up, Malfoy." He meant to make it a threat. He meant to sound ready to fight. Instead his voice sounded pinched, ready to give up.

"I heard," Malfoy came closer still, his lips almost touching Harry's ear, "that the Boy Wonder doesn't have a date tonight for the dance. You haven't even gotten a single note today, have you?"

Harry ignored the shudder than ran down his spine and shoved the tall Slytherin back, away from him. Malfoy's heel caught a jagged stone and he fell backwards, his face a mask of surprise as he grabbed and caught hold of Harry's tie. Harry was pulled forward by the neck, but instead of falling against the wall, the two boys fell through it, landing on something soft with a grunt.

Harry blinked, looking into Malfoy's surprised face, his grey eyes wide. The surprise was quickly replaced with anger. "What did you do, Potter? Get off me." Malfoy was squirming underneath him on what looked like a plush rug. It wasn't an altogether horrible sensation and Harry felt heat spring up in his cheeks.

"I didn't do anything, what did you do, Malfoy?" He pushed off of Malfoy's chest harder than was necessary and got to his feet. He straightened his glasses and ran a hand through his messy dark hair. "Where are we?" He squinted around the room. It was definitely not the dungeons. It looked like the living room from a rustic but cozy cabin. A roaring fireplace was at the far end of the room, the only light, and between them, a plush couch and a couple of arm chairs and more rugs strewn about the wooden floor. Was that a bed in the far corner? The light was so low it was hard to see.

"How the bloody hell should I know? Fucking Scarhead getting me mixed up in some kind of trouble, and we're definitely late for Potions.." Malfoy grumbled as he got to his feet, straightening his tie and flipping his hair out of his eyes.

"Malfoy," Harry started.

"Potter, where's the door?" Malfoy's voice was edging towards a higher register.

Harry sighed. "I was about to ask you that." He watched as Malfoy walked the length of the small room, looking round. His long legs carried him back to Harry and then away again. "Are you pacing?"

Malfoy shot him an icy look. "I'm observing, Potter. I'm looking for a way out of here. It's more than you're currently doing."

Harry raised his arms in a shrug. Malfoy had him there, but he wasn't exactly going to admit it. He turned away from Malfoy's pacing and examined the wall they had just fallen through. He placed his hands on it. Solid. "Hey," he called over his shoulder, "maybe it's like the platform."

"What?" Malfoy snapped at him.

Harry grimaced. "Like Platform nine and three quarters. You can only go the one way through."

Malfoy scoffed and Harry heard him resume his pacing.

Harry gasped as something started happening to the wall in front of him. "What is it, Potter? Being overdramatic as usual?" came Malfoy's slow drawl.

"Letters," Harry said in a quiet voice. Golden shimmering letters were forming under Harry's hands. Malfoy stood next to him, watching with him.

"It doesn't say anything," Malfoy spat, as if it were Harry's fault.

"Well, it's something." Harry turned to see Malfoy's sharp profile. His brow was drawn in concentration. The firelight on Malfoy's face cast rigid orange-tinted shadows. He was so close, concentrating on what Harry was showing him, his pinched face relaxing into something that was almost handsome.

"Something stupid," the other boy muttered.

Harry scowled. "Maybe it's a code," he said, "a puzzle." He was suddenly determined to figure it out ahead of Malfoy; if he didn't, he would never hear the end of it.

"Hogwarts doesn't have puzzle rooms."

"How would you know?"

"You've never read Hogwarts: A History, have you?" Draco Malfoy gave Harry a sardonic look. "Of course you haven't. Why should the Golden Boy ever need to pick up a history book?"

Harry silently fumed and turned his attention back to the letters. A few of the letters had symbols in between, like a plus, or a flourished ampersand. They seemed to be grouped together, two or three at a time matched up with another two or three, or in some cases, four or more. Harry stepped around the room, touching the walls. More letters lit up under his fingertips.

"I need a revealing spell or something," Harry whispered to himself.

"Aparecium," Malfoy said softly beside him, tapping his wand to the wall. Harry didn't have time to be surprised or impressed or some mixture of the two or more feelings besides, because the dim room suddenly lit up with gold writing spreading up the walls to the ceiling, down to the floor. "They're initials," Malfoy breathed. "Thousands of them."

Harry felt a rush of frustration. Initials. Like couples often carved into trees and benches in the muggle world. It was so painfully obvious. His eyes caught sight of one pair of initials that made his heart skip a beat. It was written on the ceiling, and larger than the others, because of course it would be. He grinned up at them, reading JP + LE over and over again. "It's my parents," Harry said, pointing excitedly. He met Malfoy's cool glare, suddenly remembering who he was with. "Right," he said sullenly. He kept looking round the room, finding more initials he recognized, some very very old, more of a tarnished bronze color (APWBD + GG, whoever that was) and some were more recent (MP + AW) and some were more recent still, shining bright gold (SF + DT). Harry let out a knowing chuckle.

"I'm glad you're having fun, Potter, but-" Malfoy's drawl suddenly cut off.

"What is it?" Harry crossed the room to join him. He looked pale, paler than usual anyway and his mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water. Harry followed the Slytherin's gaze to two sets of initials, both starting with LM, but ending with BL and NL, respectively.

"Potter.." Malfoy said weakly.

"Oh, um," Harry tried to pat Malfoy's shoulder in what he hoped would be a comforting gesture. Enemies they may be, but finding out your father messed around with your mother and her sister might be beyond that. "Er, sorry, there Malfoy. You know, these things happen, and uh-"

Malfoy abruptly sidestepped away from Harry's offered comfort, leaving his hand stranded in midair. "Not that Potter. I know where we are." He glared down his pointed nose at Harry, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Were you trying to comfort me?"

"What?" Harry stepped back, his cheeks blazing. "No, it's just that, I thought- you know where we are? Where are we?"

Draco smirked. "You really have no idea, do you?"

Harry pushed up his glasses and crossed his arms. "We don't have time, Malfoy. How do we get out of here?"

Malfoy's smirk grew a bit wider, a bit more genuine. Harry was startled to see Malfoy look almost normal. "Don't have time?" The other boy laughed. "What have you got to look forward to?" The tall Slytherin sauntered over to the blood red couch by the fire and sat down languidly, crossing one long leg over the other one, lacing his hands behind his blond head. "Last I heard, The Boy Who Lived was barely passing his classes, waiting for a dark lord to come out of hiding, doing a whole lot of nothing. It's been a long while, hasn't it Scarhead?"

Harry felt his hands ball into fists. He suddenly wished he had been trapped with anyone other than Draco Malfoy. "Why do you feel the need to constantly insult me? There's no one around to laugh with you."

Draco looked like he was actually thinking about it for a moment, then shrugged. "Would you believe that I'm a product of my environment?"

"I would, actually," Harry said, thinking of Lucius Malfoy. "The second time I met your dad, he tried to kill me."

Malfoy made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a snort. "Sounds about right."

"But that's a shitty excuse and you know it. I know it."

Draco turned to the side and managed to look down the side of his nose at him in disdain. "What do you know, Potter?"

Harry had a feeling, a connecting-the-dots sort of feeling and took a stab in the dark. "I know what it's like to not want to go home at the end of the school year." Malfoy's disdainful look evaporated. Harry smiled the smallest of smiles, knowing he had hit a nerve. He continued. "I know what it's like when your family doesn't give a shit about you. I know what it's like having a domineering, controlling presence watching your every move."

Malfoy had gone pale, his grey eyes wide. "How do you know all that, Potter?" His voice was a hoarse whisper.

Harry chuckled, then answered. "Because it's my life, too."

"You?" Draco snorted. "You and your horrible life being famous? Your important muggle family? Or how about all the teachers that love you? Your great friends?" The last word he spat out, as if it had a bad taste.

Harry laughed. It felt good and he realized he couldn't remember the last time he laughed like that. "Is that what people say about me?"

Malfoy only glared at him with his grey-blue eyes.

Harry cleared his throat. Something about Malfoy's stare was deeply unnerving. He wondered why he never noticed it before. "Well it isn't true. You going to tell me where we are, then? How we get out of here?"

Malfoy's stare didn't let up. "You know so much about me, Potter, tell me what is true about you."

Harry laughed a wry laugh this time. Telling his school bully all about his personal life? That would only bring a new kind of torture, only give him more ammunition, more nicknames. He'd had enough jokes about closets and stairs from his cousin to last a lifetime. "Not a chance, Malfoy. Tell me what's going on."

"Tell me the truth, and I'll tell you what we need to do to get out of here."

Harry sat down on the other end of the couch, as far away from the other boy as he could get. "Absolutely not." He leaned on the arm of the couch, resting his chin on his fist. Whatever he said, Malfoy was right, he didn't really have anywhere to be, no one waiting for him. He doubted his close friends would even miss him. He sighed. "At least there's no hearts and cherub deliveries in here," he muttered to himself.

"Valentine's Day is horrid, isn't it." Harry turned to Malfoy in surprise. He didn't expect Malfoy to hear him, let alone respond and have the same opinion. Malfoy's eyes were closed but he continued, "What, Potter? I'm not allowed to share an opinion?"

"You're allowed," Harry stammered, "I just thought you- you know.."

Draco opened one silver eye. "What."

Harry tried to ignore the heat rising in his face. "It's just, you're popular enough, in your house, that is, aren't you? You've always got that one girl hanging around you. And if you're making fun of me for not having a date you must have-"

Malfoy's sudden laughter cut him off. "Who? Pansy? Yeah, she wishes."

Harry scowled. "Then why-"

"Love is stupid, Potter," Malfoy sat up straight, uncrossing his legs, leaning towards Harry. "It's a useless emotion that only leaves you miserable and vulnerable."

"Is that what you think?"

"Prove otherwise."

Harry thought a minute. "But your parents-" Harry was cut off by another laugh, this one short, barking, and rueful. Harry glared at him. "Your mother, then."

"Nice try, Potter, but no."

"There's no one else?"

"No." His answer was as flat as his gaze.

"There has to be," Harry insisted. He didn't know why he cared so much all of a sudden. He had assumed everyone had a better life than he did, even Malfoy.

"There isn't. You have someone, Scarhead? One of your many followers?"

Harry wasn't sure if Malfoy was making fun of him or not. He had the same sort of drawl to his voice, but the sneer was gone. He himself had found some love, few and far between, but love still. His godfather. His friends, before they got together and started to love each other. Cho, for a little while. Harry frowned as he realized a pattern. "Actually, no. I don't either." It must have been the way Malfoy was looking at him in that moment, his rapturous attention that made Harry start talking. "My aunt and uncle aren't important muggles, they're terrible people. My cousin is worse yet. I lived under the stairs in a cupboard for the first 12 years of my life. Picked on at school. I didn't know what magic was, I just knew weird things happened to me. Teachers come and go. Mostly go. I lost my parents, lost my godfather, lost my friends, and girlfriends, well, they just don't stick, I guess."

"Don't stick." Malfoy had a weird smile on his face. "I like that, Potter. Can I use that?"

Harry smiled back. "Yeah, sure."

Malfoy sighed deeply, stretched, and pushed himself to his feet. Harry watched him wander about the dim room, waiting for the insults to start back up. He did just give him a goldmine, after all. Draco trailed his fingers along the opposite wall, making the hodgepodge of letters glow, the golden light softening his sharp features. He turned to find Harry staring. "It's a make out room, Potter."

Harry blinked. "A what?"

Draco shrugged. "It's sort of a legend, only hinted at in books. As far as I know, it only opens on Saint Valentine's Day. A couple wanders in here and can't leave until they," his hands were turning in circles in the air, as if searching for a word, "do the deed," he finally finished.

"What?" Harry squeaked.

Malfoy pulled at his shirt collar as if it had suddenly grown too tight. "Not the literal deed, per say but-"

"We're not a couple!"

"I don't think the room cares that much, Potter."

"But, we're not a couple." Harry knew he was repeating himself, it just seemed like an important point to make.

Malfoy gave him a level look.

"We're not, though," Harry insisted.

"Do you think I don't know that?" Malfoy's sneering drawl was back.

"No, it's just, it's just," he floundered, unable to form a coherent thought. Kissing? Making out with Malfoy? Maybe more? He stared at his hands.

"Not fair?" Malfoy smirked at him.

Harry's anger flared. "That's not what I was going to say." He wished intensely that he had gone to Potions class instead of trying to stick up for his friends. When he spoke again, his voice sounded small and far away. "How far do we have to go?"

"Have to?" Did Malfoy blush? It must have been the dim light. "It could be a lot worse, Potter. What if you had tripped into Goyle and gotten stuck in here with him instead of me? Or your weaselly best friend?" He scoffed. "At least I'm rich and handsome."

Harry turned away to stare at the writhing flames. He imagined making out with Goyle, then with Ron. His stomach turned. Malfoy was, at least, better looking than any of them. Harry started to imagine what it might be like, soft lips, long fingers tangled in his dark hair, leaning up to kiss someone so tall- and he cut it off. "You're still a racist prick," he said quietly.

"Is that why you cursed me so? Last year?" Malfoy's voice was barely above a whisper. Harry hadn't noticed that the other boy had come to sit beside him on the sofa.

Harry blinked at him, suddenly so close, the implications of the room becoming suffocating. Harry cleared his throat, nervous. "That was, um, there was more to that, and you know it."

"The war," Malfoy said quietly, his sneer and drawl completely absent.

"Yes," Harry breathed, "and I didn't know what it did. I didn't know what you were doing. I was.. I thought I knew what I was doing."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "You thought you knew what you were doing with a curse you weren't familiar with? You very nearly killed me, Potter."

Harry couldn't think of a response, so he didn't say anything. He looked around the room, wishing the letters would glow again so he could have a distraction.

"You nearly killed me because I was a jerk to you and your friends?" Malfoy pressed.

"Was?" It was out of Harry's mouth before he knew it. He could see the hurt on the blond boy's face, and it made his chest feel tight, as though he couldn't draw a breath. He had felt badly about the curse; he hadn't meant to kill Malfoy, only disable him from helping the other side. It hadn't ever occurred to him to see things from Malfoy's point of view. Now that he was, it was quite uncomfortable.

"You were the one who rejected me, all those years ago. I saw you, I knew who you were, and I wanted," he trailed off and Harry sat very still, afraid that if he moved, Malfoy would stop talking. "I wanted options."

"Options?"

Malfoy took a deep breath, straightened his shirt sleeves, and gave Harry a discerning glare.

"What options?" Harry asked again.

"Look, Potter," Malfoy turned his body on the sofa so that he was facing Harry, their legs touching the tinniest of increments. It was all Harry could think about. "Let's agree now, that nothing we say or do leaves this room. That's reasonable, isn't it?"

"Yeah right," Harry scoffed. "Like you're not going to leave this room and tell everyone about how Harry Potter wanted to kiss you so badly, he forced you into this room, let's all laugh about it until the end of time?"

Draco's face held no emotion, his steely eyes glinted in the firelight. "I don't want this getting out, Harry. Probably more than you do."

Harry considered it for a moment. Rich and powerful wizarding family, obvious connections to the Dark Lord, just to name a few, probably. "I can't trust you."

Malfoy laid a hand on his knee and gave him a rueful smile. "You probably shouldn't, to be honest." Harry's eyes stayed on the other boy's hand. It was so familiar, so warm, and yet so strange. Malfoy's eyes followed his and he abruptly took his hand away. Harry missed it immediately. "We can do a promise."