Locked
It was when they heard the lock of the door click was the moment they realized they had a problem.
Both of the boys swore under their breath and turned their attention to each other. "Great," said the blond, "now how do you suppose you get me out of here?"
Before the other one remembered that this was Draco Malfoy, he almost was shocked at the audacity of the question. But he simply replied, "You mean how am I getting myself out of here."
"Same difference."
The closet the boys found themselves locked into certainly wasn't a walk-in; they both had just about as much personal space as a mother a baby shower, and they wouldn't have been in the closet in the first place if it wasn't for their bickering.
"Well, something has got to be done by someone if we want to get out of here any time soon." Draco leaned against the wall of the closet casually, clearing stating that that someone was not going to be him.
"You can't be serious, I'm sure all it will take is banging on the door and someone will just let us out." Harry then proceeded to bang the door rapidly with the heel of his fist.
"No! No! No!" Draco shouted as he grabbed Harry's wrist and threw it back. "That is not going to do any good! We're in the dungeons — even if there was someone around to hear us they wouldn't go out of their way to open a door." He retreated back to his corner of the closet,
Harry took his own corner, opposite of Draco, and folded his arms. "You do something, then."
Draco's eyes narrowed. "It's your bloody fault we're in here, Potter."
"No one told you to tell professor Snape that I did something I didn't even do." Harry leaned further back and crossed his ankles.
This, technically, was not true. Adrian Pucey had suggested that Draco tell Professor Snape that Harry was trying to cheat off of him during the Potions final. And to Draco, those twenty points transferred from Gryffindor to Slytherin was well worth it.
The closet part, well, that fault belonged to Harry.
Draco was losing his patience. "Are we just going to just sit here?"
Harry feigned being amiable. "If that's what you suggest."
Draco stood upright. "I am not spending the rest of my day with… with a bloody Gryffindor! In a… matchbox-sized closet!" His fists balled up and he kicked the door.
Clearly mocking the Slytherin, Harry said calmly, "That's not going to do any good."
Draco grumbled and folded his arms. "I'm not."
Harry pushed himself up and off the wall. "So what do you suggest that we do to get us out of here?"
"Start a bloody fire," Draco responded, oozing with sarcasm, "how the hell should I know, Potter? You're the one who got yourself out of all those tight cracks."
It was the raven-haired boy's turn to use sarcasm. "I don't know, that was just the Dark Lord and a few of his servants, I'm not sure if I'm exactly ready to work myself out of a closet."
Draco couldn't resist. "Haven't done that yet, eh? Even to your friends?" He snickered.
"I mean — you know I meant this closet!" Harry slammed his hand on the door.
The blond wouldn't rest. "You seem flustered. Have I touched a nerve?"
He did, in fact. Whether or not Harry would admit it, it was the reason why it was his fault them two were in the closet. He didn't think that the closet would exactly lock the two in, but he knew that the two would be dangerously close to one another.
"No," Harry said shakily, "no you haven't touched a nerve."
Draco began to test the water; he placed his hand less than an inch away from Harry's on the door and leaned in ever-so slightly. "I haven't?"
"No."
He leaned in further. "And now?"
Harry gulped, but tried to keep a serious expression. "No."
In the next lean, Draco let his hand graze over Harry's and then rest there; their noses were lightly touching. "And now?"
The serious expression on Harry's face faltered for a second, and then it disappeared entirely. His eyes shut, his head tilted, and he leaned forward just a little before Draco rested his lips on his.
It was like nothing Draco had imagined — in fact, it was better. The closet and floor disappeared from around them and they were flawless, and there was no other way. It was almost like he found a way out, though not really.
It was nothing like what Harry had imagined it to be — it was worse. He had Draco right where he wanted him just a second ago, and now he just wanted him gone. He gave no sign of this, however, and went with the motions.
It was Draco who broke the bitter-sweet tender kiss. Following a moment of silence, he added with a cocky tone, "And now?"
Harry, uncomfortable, fruitlessly tried to change the subject. "And how are we going to get out of here?"
"I'll take that as a yes," the blond stated with a satisfied smirk.
Realizing that Draco's hand was still on his, Harry pulled his hand out from it quickly, hitting the door handle. And feeling it fall down with his hand.
There must have been something in his expression that gave him away, but Draco jumped on this immediately. "What is it?"
Harry cleared his throat before announcing the embarrassing news. "I think the door's opened." Draco was speechless — and even more so when Harry pushed open the door, confirming the news. "Yes, yes it's open." He blushed slightly, but Draco couldn't tell; he was halfway through the doorway.
"And you couldn't have figured that out earlier?"
"And you couldn't have taken out your wand and gotten us out that way?" Harry sharply retorted.
"One closet at a time," Draco said over his shoulder as he walked down the corridor.