Harry Potter stormed up the stairs. He'd just gotten out of a fight with Ron; admittedly, it had been a rather stupid fight, and it was probably not the smartest reaction to go storming off into the night, but he'd stormed off all the same, and he'd been doing so for a few flights of stairs now. Where was he, the sixth floor? Seventh? Truth to tell, he didn't really care that much

What was wrong with these people? He'd been going to a school for four years now, and at every turn, it was as if everything was out to get him, from Voldemort to Malfoy, going through snakes, walking chessmen, and, the latest news, a Goblet. That's right, this year Harry Potter had somehow managed to get himself in a goblets' bad graces. Of course, he had a knack for getting into trouble but... couldn't he get a rest already?

And of course, everybody found it perfeclty normal! Nobody thought for once that he might prefer having to deal with his first kiss to having to fend off magical Hitler.

And God knew he was having first-kiss related problems...

So obviously his having to endure Ron's whining about how eclipsed he felt had just been too much for Harry, and he'd stormed out of the common room.

Looking around him, he saw that he was in a quite remote hallway with some very strange paintings of... well, he guessed you could call them the wizarding equivalent of biologists: on the portraits there were, amongst others, an old guy in a kilt turning someone into a five-legged beast, a wizard giving trolls ballet lessons, and some freak from the Middle Ages running after tiny little blue people.

Harry sighed, as he dropped the pace, and turned back... he really needed somewhere to rest.

He really needed somewhere to rest.

Then, to his surprise, opposite of the troll training wizard's portrait, he saw a fine carved door which he would've sworn hadn't been there before. And, like the troublemaking, foolhardy busybody he is, he opened it to see what was inside.

***

Draco Malfoy, as fate would have it, was also storming around that night. Of course, he did it for a very different reasn than Harry; but he did it all the same.

He was mad at the mudbloods.

Seriously, he was.

Draco wasn't just mean for mean's sake, and God knew he didn't get any money from tormenting them: Draco Malfoy was genuinely hateful of all those who didn't have his own clean blood running through their veins.

Or, should I say, Draco Malfoy was genuinely afraid of all those who didn't have his own clean blood running through their veins.

That's right he'd said it! Well, he hadn't actually, but he had thought it. Of course, he'd never actually say it out loud, because his family pride, but thinking it was still a big step. Draco Malfoy he had such a long pedigree, he could almost trace his ancestry back to a protoplasmal primordial atomic globule; and a magic using one at that! He'd never admit he was afraid. He couldn't help it; he'd been born sneering!

Yet for all his sneering, Draco couldn't hide, at least from himself, that he was afraid. He was afraid things were changing.

They were coming. The mudbloods and the muggle-lovers were coming, and they were bringing the world upside-down. With all this happening, Draco was afraid he'd lose his standing; he was afraid he'd lose his money; he was afraid his family would go broke, his father would be supplanted, his lineage would die out, and all sorts of bad things would happen -of course, the latest of this fears was probably somewhat reasonable if he was an only child, but that we shall see later. And, so terrified was he that he'd lose what he'd grown up to love, that he readily blamed the mudbloods for everything and militantly endorsed his parents' agenda.

Because even if the muggles didn't take anything from him, if he didn't do his job, his parents certainly would.

And even if they failed, ther was also... well, You Know Who.

It's a bizarre thing how love can spawn fear; and even more bizarre how fear can turn to hater.

If only he could feel safe... If only he could have someone who cared about, and told him it was alright instead of sending him day in and day out to fight for Voldemort, maybe he might believe that the mudbloods weren't here to get him.

Draco barely realized he'd stopped walking some time ago. He was very absorbed in his thoughts. As he looked around, he saw next to him a portrait: it depicted an obscure wizard accomplishing an obscure feat. Draco's ego was somewhat uplifted by the fact that he knew it was Barnabas the Barmy.

He really must have been storming for an awful lot of stories!

***

But now back to Mr. Potter: He'd, while all this was happening, pushed open the door in front of the troll-training wizard, and found himself inside a very spacious room.

Most wondrous! It seemed to be just what he'd been looking for.

It was lit with soft, magical candlelight -though nothing was dim or hard to look at-, and at its centre lay a twin four-poster bed. Harry came close to it. He touched it: those must have been the smoothest covers he'd ever felt! They were red and made of fine velvet, and the sheets were of the softest silk.

Now Harry, wasn't the kind of kid to usually do stupid things -well, not without a strong moral imperative anyway-, but it was late at night, and the door was closed, and he was very tired and very sleepy; and so, he decided he'd lay down on the bed.

"Just to relax a bit" he thought "I'll be off soon!"

Yet as he dropped himself onto the soft matress and lay his head on the luxurious pillows, his heart changed: this was the most comfortable bet he'd ever been in! He couldn't tell if it was a genuine spell, or just the incredibly good atmosphere and the precise state of his emotions; but it was almost unnatural, how comfortable he was... He closed his eyes halfway, and it started to become increasingly hard to keep track of his thoughts. Then, he began to forget that he was supposed to go away, until this, and every other worry left him completely, as the compassionate Morpheus, god of sleep, began to gain control over him.

Harry Potter started getting comfortable... Very comfortable. He was already out of his robes and clothes, and lay on the bed wearing mere pair of knickerboxers. His glasses fell to the as he dozed off, and his tired, yet beautiful body was entangled almost erotically in the red, white and pink covers of this most singular bed.

In fact, Harry was getting too comfortable; this was demonstrable by the fact that his hand was very high up his muscular thigh, and in particular very near his impressively inflated knickers.

He let out a sleepy moan.

But then, suddenly, the door opened. And a familiar, if flabberghasted, voice, after a few seconds of disbelief, exclaimed:

"Harry Potter?"

Harry broke out of his trance. And, as he struggled to cover himself and wake himself up, and generally compose himself, he saw Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway.

"Draco?" he cried, in dissaray, "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" retorted Draco "I could ask you the same thing..."

Each was visibly as distraught as the other.

"No you can't..." cried Harry "I don't eve know where this place is!"

"Well, for not knowing where the place is' said Draco "You certainly got undressed fast, didn't you?"

"You were watching?"

"What? No... There's no keyhole!"

There was a brief pause. Then, Harry decided to be the bigger man and got up to explain himself.

"Look," he said in a matter-of-fact fashion "I really wanted a place to rest; and so this place appeared; and I got in. Apparently, this room grants you what you want, or something like that... so I got that, and we can get this over with!"

"What you want?" enquired Malfoy.

"Well, it's my first time here," said Harry "But yeah, I guess... Or what you need, or something like that... Anyway, it's none of your bloody buisness!"

Of course, he was thinking of this as he went, though he was right in general terms. This place was, in point of fact, the fabled Room of Requirement, though none of the boys knew this at the time; and they certainly wouldn't say anything about this whole episode when they found out. By Jove, even the author had only thitherto mentioned it as a room full of chamberpots!

But Draco didn't answer Harry's conjecture; instead, he was somewhat lost in reflexions, as he carefully inspected Harry Potter's bare body, and considered all the ramifications of this room containing "what he wanted".

He wanted Harry Potter!

It seems Harry was going through the exact same thought process. And as Malfoy's eyes rose and looked into his, he violently backed off.

"Oh no, Draco..." he exclaimed "Don't you even think about it!"

"Think about what?"

"You know!"

But then Draco smiled at him. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Draco smile that way; and he certainly wouldn't in some time thereafter... Nor had he ever heard him use such a soothing, calm, almost plaintive voice as he used afterwards.

"Come on, Harry," he said coaxingly "We don't need to tell anyone."

Harry's first thought was that this wasn't Draco. As if reading his mind, the blonde wizard explained himself.

"Nobody needs to know," he said "Nobody will ever know. But just for once, let's let go of all that..."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"Just for once..." said Draco "stop being the hero. I'll stop being the villain... and we can just enjoy what the world has been keeping us from."

Draco's words hit Harry right in the heart.

"There's no Voldemort here," said Draco, coming close to him "No muggles, no Tournament, no Quidditch, no nothing... Only you, me, and the bed. For once in these four years, let's just be ourselves!"

By now, Draco's face was almost touching Harry's. And Draco had shed all defenses, just as Harry had shed all his clothes. He'd put his arms on the Boy Who Lived's shoulders. Yet said boy was still hesitant.

"Spurn not the nobly born with love affected," quoted Draco "Nor treat with virtuous scorn the well-connected!"

"Hey!" said Harry "That's from a muggle show... You're not supposed to like those!"

Draco was at a loss for a moment. Then, he found his comeback:

"Well, It does have fairies in it!"

And Harry smiled. And Draco smiled back at him. And they kissed. Then, Draco threw Harry onto the bed, and took his clothes off, and, their beautiful young bodies intertwined, the two boys made sweet, sensuous forbidden love then and there, in the middle of the night, on the red bed in the Room of Requirment.

***

"You" said Draco Malfoy, dressing up "Are never to speak of this to anyone."

"Yeah," said Harry spitefully as he put on his own robes "Because I'm sure everyone wants to hear about you finishing three times."

They'd had a night of wild love, it was true, but now it was done the two boys were now back to their hating, adverse, usual rival selves.

"You seemed to enjoy it," smirked Malfoy, buttoning his shirt "You were practically begging me to do so inside you!"

"I... I was being polite!" said Harry. "And don't you dare open your big mouth!"

"I don't recall my mouth being the largest thing on me... much to your own pleasure!"

"Well, I... I was only trying to make you feel good about yourself so you might be less off an ass afterwards!"

"Oh, sure you were..."

"Will you stop being such a pompous bastard?" cried Harry indignantly.

"Will you stop being a feisty little halfblood celebrity?" retorted Malfoy.

Then, their eyes met. And without thinking about it, they kissed with furious passion.

After it was done, they parted and they stared at each other for a moment.

"So there!" yelled Malfoy.

"There!" yelled Harry.

And they got dressed, and left, furuious and never talked about this incident again.

That is, until they did the same thing again the next week.