Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling is the amazing creator and author.

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Summary: Harry tries to talk to Malfoy the first day back of 8th year, but as expected it doesn't go to plan. They end up in the Room of Requirement, a scorched husk after its encounter with fiendfyre. How do the pair cope with being trapped in the place they almost died? One-shot.

Walking through the carriages on the first day back to Hogwarts, Harry feels like he can finally put the events of the past behind him and concentrate on his future. His summer was full of funerals, interviews and restorations. He was urged to relax, told he deserved time to himself but that left him alone with his thoughts and that was dangerous. His resolution to move on is stunted when he notices Malfoy as Blaise enters their compartment with its blinds drawn and the tell-tale shimmer of wards in play. He continues walking until he sees finds his friends, hugging those who he hadn't been able to catch up with and let the nostalgic feeling of returning home bask over him once more.

This happiness doesn't last long as the image of the blond staring out at the countryside takes over his mind, making him restless and unable to focus on this new term. The Malfoy's disappeared after the trial when the miraculous result of their being pardoned was cast. No newspaper or reporter could charm their way into locating the family or entering their heavily protected abode. This pleased Harry, that they'll have some time alone before Malfoy had to return for the new school year and the world would gawk at him again. It also meant they could talk.

This conclusive action on the train is what has him currently running down corridors to catch up with the blond after he watched him leave dinner.

"Malfoy!" He calls, finally glimpsing platinum hair and watches the boy stiffen. He turns, looking over the flushed Gryffindor as if he knew the confrontation was coming and continues walking in his path.

Harry hears, "Leave me alone Potter." in a tired tone, and watches the boy leave. He continues with his goal regardless.

Malfoy keeps walking despite hearing Harry's presence behind him. Harry knows he shouldn't push him, that he should respect his boundaries but this new approach to not testing him hasn't quite set in with Malfoy yet. Harry quickens his stride until he's standing in front of the blond. He looks good, healthy, much better than when he last saw him in court. Malfoy tries to side step him but Harry copies like a shadow, his expression turning from exasperation to angry at being stopped as he pulls out his wand, raising his eyebrow, as is his signature, and dares him to proceed. Duelling on the first day back would get them both in trouble.

Now Harry's pissed, all he wants to do is talk but instead they resolve to duelling as has been their habit for 7 years as he pulls out his own wand. He's aware he can stop the oncoming fight, but as Malfoy tries to head back to his dorm Harry blocks his path and that's the last straw. All Malfoy wants is a quiet year; no trouble, no fights, no contact with the Saviour. He's been back for less than 12 hours and spells are already sizzling past his head as he attempts to be free, so he can hide in his quarters and hope the next 11 months pass fast. As they offend and defend, they gradually move down the corridor until a new noise other than their spells catch their attention. They stand panting and vexed, but on an agreeable hiatus as they stare at the wall. It seems to be moving. If the repairs committed over the summer are lacking, the Headmistress needs to be alerted before any casualties can come about. He quickly realises it's not an issue with the structure as a dark, patterned door struggles to form in the stone, the arch forming then melting into the brick. They stand frozen, transfixed at the spectacle, knowing exactly what door they're standing in front of and shocked that the magic damaged the room so deeply it short circuited externally. Merlin knows how the interiors faring.

They've both avoided this part of the castle when all of eighth year were taken on a tour of the castle to review the new layout. Hermione asked about his opposition to join them in that corridor, noticing his absence. He has no right to feel so strongly about the room when her and Ron were also present, they almost died alongside him yet again but he can't shake the feeling that he's suffocating every time he's near it, like he's encased in the sweltering heat that his clothes sticking to him at the mere thought. The door solidifies and opens, releasing a silhouette of ash. Once it clears they find that they're inside.

The room has tried to heal itself over the many months of being abandoned, it still is as objects move and reappear in varying states of decay and ruin. They both look at each other, gripping their wands tight as the overwhelming smell of burning makes the air dense. They look over the expanse of ash looking like a grey desert as fear and curiosity take turns in leading their actions as they tentatively move across the carbonised wasteland. Harry's attention is brought to his right as Malfoy rushes backwards, placing a hand on his stomach before he vomits. Harry frowns at the grisly scene but heads in his direction and barely holds his own stomach contents, clutching a hand over his mouth in desperation as he too is repulsed from the sight. They can't be...can they? He looks back down at blackened bones, unmistakably human. One of the joys of the Room of Requirement was that you could find something you'd once lost or come across something you never knew you needed. Stumbling across the burnt remains of Vincent Crabbe wasn't one they wished to find.

Fairly confident that the likelihood of vomiting has passed, Harry looks over at Malfoy who's vanished his sick and is sitting with his knees drawn to his chest, his complexion pale and dewy. Harry imagines a door, an exit, anything to leave this forsaken space. Malfoy has his eyes closed doing the same. Nothing. They open their eyes, frustrated as the room shifts and groans repeatedly, as it tries to find a function. Harry clenches his jaw and undoes his tie, pulling the knot down to free his airways. Malfoy pulls off his robes, undoing his top button and swallows.

They're finally back in the room they almost died in.

Harry chances a look at Malfoy and it's like looking into a mirror as he sees the panic-stricken expression. Harry places his head in his hands, biting his tongue to keep down the bile and rid his head of the images of flames roaring at them from all directions. He takes a steadying breathe and runs a hand through his hair rhythmically. It's what Ginny does when he'd head into an uncontrollable panic even though they broke up.

She was, and remains, one of the most loyal and understanding friend he could want. While dating she wouldn't rush them in their intimacy or degrade him when facing his fears and traumas as she was simultaneously battling her own. The family grieved over Fred's death, as well as Tonks and Remus. He just couldn't pull himself back enough to stay composed and whole. Hermione's theory is that a hole was left in his soul when Voldemort's own was ripped from him. The years of them, merging and streaking with his was normal, so much so that when he awoke cold and confused on the forest floor he'd never felt overwhelmingly empty. The voice in his head had vanished, as did the homicidal feelings and he was back to being Harry, the wizard appointed to save the world.

An orange glow suddenly fills the room and they both stand, wands gripped as they edge together. Smoke cascades off the blackened piles that still stand as piles of ash seem to glow and wriggle, the likelihood being that they're ashwinders. They search about for the source of the smoke, for the flames but it disappears again and they're returned to low lighting. It's another illusion, the room is passing through its past shapes as it relentlessly tries to settle. Malfoy rubs his throat and Harry removes his robes too; his skin feeling feverish and the layers don't help. The room changes again. Harry jolts as they're surrounded by mirrors and the transparent figures of the DA, including himself, the target dummy in the centre of the room which they used to practice spells on.

Malfoy sits straighter, looking about the memory and then at Harry. Finally, the room returns to the shell for a second and then it's swirling in a nauseous mix of colours before solidifying in another memoir from the past. A large cabinet appears half a metre in front of them, clawing and chirping coming from its interior. Harry catches a glimpse of blond hair before it's hidden by a tower of desks. Harry tries to follow it, see what this apparition is doing but Malfoy springs up, holding him back with a tight grip on his arm.

"Don't."

Harry looks at Malfoy, at the hand on his shoulder stopping him from viewing the truth rather than just hearing about it in court while he was under veritaserum. He's lost the apparition as the room changes back to its blackened hollow and his arm is released. He hasn't the strength to fight him so he shrugs off the hand and sits. The room seems to focus on them more as a chanting of Harmonia Nectere Passus fills the room. Malfoy stiffens, waiting to see himself and the cabinet but nothing shows, just his voice. Patronus' bound across the room; a hare, a Jack Russell, an otter, a stag, all dancing and rushing through the air in a brilliant display. Those were happier days, even though their group was preparing for the war, it brought about unison, a collaboration of lost and scared students who needed a leader and found hope in him.

"We need to focus." A strained voice pipes up. Harry turns to the sound, turning to Malfoy he seems unnaturally calm.

"It's focusing on our affiliation within its walls rather than our internal requirements."

"So, we need to stop thinking."

"In essence, yes."

"In essence?"

"You're not exactly company that allows me to put my guard down."

"Likewise."

That didn't matter at one point, not when Harry had to make the choice between letting him live or letting him die. After witnessing Goyle fall into the beast, no matter what evil Malfoy had committed and was going to commit, he made up his mind. At that thought the room is suddenly engorged in flames. Blinded by the ferocity and intensity that can't be mistook for anything other than fiendfyre, they both stand staring wide-eyed.

"This can't be real." Harry mutters but he already knows the answer. Everything in this room is real in one sense or another. He can feel the heat, see the mutating flames tower and dive for them like they're sentient. He feels a hand in his and he's dragged from its path. He quickly finds his feet; his hand is released and they run.

"Stop thinking!"

He just hears the words over the deafening crackle and hiss of blazing objects. He pictures looking up at freckled cheeks, loose strands of ginger hair covering her brown eyes as he lies with his head in Ginny's lap. She'd spot the symptoms the moment they began. They'd talked about anything and everything that happened before and during the battle; hunting horcruxes, the Carrows torture regime. She knows things he hasn't yet got the nerve to tell Ron or Hermione about. It's not that he doesn't trust them, it's that she provides a refreshingly blunt perspective which his logical and reassuring friends often don't. Her ginger hair suddenly moves, her skin scabbing as smoke is emitted from her pores as she combusts. He's dragged from the memory and to the now as fire licks at his heels.

"I can't sort out my thoughts!" He calls to the blond, following him through the labyrinth of forgotten things as they turn yet another corner. They skid as a chimaera blocks their path to the north, a serpent coming from the south and a Dragon glides closer from the east. Their only option west leads to a dead end. He feels a hand in his again and he's suddenly pulled close, being met by with a warm body and arms tight around his back. The response is automatic as he hugs back. All 3 creatures charge towards them when the flames dampen and they're back to the burnt husk, their fate of incineration gone. They remain embraced, their pulses still fast and skin damp from running from the inferno. Harry pulls back first, surprised someone like Malfoy, especially Malfoy, could calm him so quickly.

"How did you know?" He asks softly, still breathless from sprinting.

"Touch helps me focus and I suspected it would you." Harry nods and moves closer to resume the hug. It's not too bad, not as awkward as he expected, he'd even consider it nice.

"Only we could go from duelling to saving each other."

"Again." Malfoy adds without thinking.

As the fire eventually leaves their thoughts they separate.

"Why did you corner me?"

"I wanted to talk."

"About?"

"The war." Anger flicks over Malfoy's face before it's schooled into an impassive expression. Tightens grip on wand, Harry keeps by side.

"That's not a good idea." He finally retorts. No doubt he's thinking over all solutions; he can't fight his way out and there's nowhere to walk to avoid him.

"I know."

"Is this your doing? Trapping us in here so you can pull more information from me that veritaserum couldn't?"

"You think I'd - you prick! Being in here wasn't exactly on my list of places to revisit. I knew we'd fight but I hoped we'd get it over with quickly. I never imagined we'd end up reliving the damned past." He snarls, anger filling him.

Their wands are raised as they gesticulate, now facing each other again. Malfoy's eyes widen and he points his wand at Harry. Harry frowns, ready to defend himself when he hears hissing and sees a spray of ash as forked tongues flick out the tip it. Horrified he drops it before they can manifest and another unquenchable fire will consume the room for a second time.

"What were you doing earlier? The apparition version."

Malfoy's expression hardens. The cabinet appears again and Malfoy swears, anxiously turning his gaze to the structure and lifts his wand to it as if waiting for something to emerge. If this room brings solidity to otherwise non-existent objects, then if Death Eaters exit the cabinet would they be real? Harry turns as words from his case come to mind and he picks up his wand.

"You let the Death Eaters in through the vanishing cabinet?" Malfoy winces at the bluntness despite it being true, he hates acknowledging committing such an atrocity.

"And you're thinking off them now, aren't you?" He continues urgently, realising the horror which could erupt at any second. Malfoy nods again, panicked as he awaits his aunt, or what will appear to be his aunt, emerge in a cloud of black smoke along with Fenrir and other followers. Harry catches on, remembering the names he gave in court and looks behind him at the doorway. They have zero chance if the room replays the rendition of their entry.

Harry turns him around so he has his back to the wood and visualises a sofa, thankfully one manifests, a replica of the one in their common room. Tactically speaking it's beyond foolish to turn their backs on the enemy but it's the best idea he has.

"What specifically calms you?" He queries, pulling him down by his wrists so they're sitting. He knows no amount of hugging is a great enough distraction. Sees Malfoy's cheeks pinken showing he's thought of something.

"Now is not a time to be coy." The blond scowls momentarily then moves closer.

"Hand." Harry obliges and is intrigued when he laces their fingers together.

"Copy this motion."

Harry notices how his voice is already steady, soothed by what is to come. The action is drawing a circle on his palm with his thumb. It's repetitive and correctly draws focus. Harry nods and does so, watching enchanted as Malfoy calms, concentrating on his palm and the infinite motion. Harry turns around, the cabinet's still there.

"It's not me."

Harry gives him a frown and realises he's right. He can't stop thinking about this moment, the moment that lead to Dumbledore's death and invasion of Hogwarts. Malfoy lifts his head, searching his face for what Harry's not sure but then gives him a look seeking permission. Harry nods still confused and Malfoy gently runs a hand over Harry's head, allowing the strands to weave through his fingers as he repeats the action.

"You were doing this earlier." He elaborates quietly. Harry's surprise that he noticed lasts briefly since they'd always picked up on what the other does. He finds himself leaning into the touch as usual. When Ginny trialled for Chudley Cannons over the summer, there needed to be someone there for him should he derail. Much to his embarrassment the rest of the Weasley clan were directly informed of the best calming methods and readily came to his aid as needed. At some point, he'd been comforted by all 7 gingers, even Percy, falling asleep on them or merely enjoying the rhythmic petting as the motion soothes away his worries. He doesn't know how long they've been like this for; his head now resting on Malfoy's shoulders as he plays with the strands and their hands idly entwined as he lazily draws circles on his skin. He feels Malfoy move, his neck twisting and sigh. The cabinet must have gone but they both keep contact regardless.

"Why do you need answers? Haven't I proved myself enough?" He questions sadly. He confessed to his crimes and gave all the names of the Death Eaters but it's never enough.

"I'm not asking for proof, just understanding."

"What do you need to understand?" Malfoy replies harshly, the hand on Harry's scalp stills and Harry straightens, moving so he can see his face. "I was made to do awful things and I hated every second of it. I didn't choose to be a Death Eater – no, I'm not explaining myself. Why don't you just hold it over my head like the others?"

"I want to put the past behind us and that'll happen quicker if I have a full picture." Harry contradicts, trying to keep his voice neutral to stop the situation from escalating.

"Do you think you're entitled to my story? Must be your Chosen One superiority complex that makes not getting what you want unfamiliar."

"It's not entitlement – Merlin Malfoy, is it really so hard to believe I want to move on?"

"Yes!" No-one else does. His role in starting the takeover has been kept from anyone who doesn't need to know. However, there are plenty of other speculations and rumours as to the level of his involvement in Voldemort's inner circle which cause people to grip their wands, send disapproving looks and call out insults as he passes. He hates it as much as he hates himself. His only conduit is the boy-who-lives and a room determined on destroying them. Resentment builds and a wooden bookshelf appears in his peripheral vision, stacked with bandages and healing potions. This is a new type of danger. Harry looks at the array of supplies. The room is viewing their desires and not just old events.

"You're angry with me?" He asks eyeing up the provisions.

"Not you, the world. I know I've no right."

"You can hate who you like Malfoy."

The itch to duel already has his hand drifting to his wand. What harm could it do? Malfoy seems to have the same thought as the air around them electrifies. After a minute, Harry decides he's had enough of fighting, no matter how routine it is. Battling with Malfoy is always intense and emotive, but he doesn't want that to define them anymore.

"Best not." He says, feeling a slight nod from the blond and places his head back on his shoulder although Malfoy simply keeps his hand on his neck and their hands stay together unmoving. It's outlandishly intimate but neither make a move to alter it.

"Don't you want to as well?"

"Always." He answers honestly. He loves duelling, it's freeing just like flying but he needs to make changes. "I moved on, I owed you as much."

"You owed me?" He repeats bewildered. Harry thinks of the manor, when Malfoy didn't identify him but the memory jumps wildly as Hermione's screams fill the space and Malfoy tenses, clenching his fists.

Hermione never deserved such treatment regardless of her blood. She was just a child like himself. Her screams along with Luna's and Dean's have plagued his dreams for months and are another reason why he doesn't want to leave his room. They've already said their piece; that they don't blame him and want to move on but he can't.

"Sorry I didn't mean..." Harry starts, taken aback by his response.

"It's not stable yet, can we talk about something else?"

Harry nods and they both try to remain calm. More time passes and nothing precarious has appeared.

"How do you focus so fast?" Harry inquires, noting Malfoy's ability to swiftly move his thoughts along.

"Mindfulness. My aunt taught me occlumency and I taught myself the rest."

"Why?" He sighs making Harry realise he's brought them back to their avoided topic.

"She taught me so no-one would know of my task to kill Dumbledore." As predicted a heavy silence follows so he continues. "I'm glad she did. You-know-who was a powerful legilimens and knowing I could control what he saw in my mind was a small feat."

"What was it like, living with him?" He asks, unable to bottle up his question. Malfoy flinches and the room creaks, as it replicates part of the manor.

"War talk." Malfoy replies closing his eyes again.

"Right."

They remain sitting, starting the calming motions again.

"If I wasn't trapped in this murderous room I wouldn't be telling you anything." Malfoy admits, lost in the way Harry's hair feels in his hands.

"I know."

"This goes both ways Potter. I have questions of my own."

"That's fair." Just as all seems final, the room starts shaking and they both sit up, ready to face whatever horror manifests but instead it clicks and is still. After a few minutes of asserting that there is no new element to escape from or fight, they lower their wands.

"Is it fixed? Harry asks.

I require a door.

In seconds a door appears; they both stand quickly and exit, breathing a sigh of relief as they emerge in the corridor. Harry casts tempus, they were trapped for 50 minutes. They both stand like they don't know what to do next; do they shake hands or swear to forget the event? Harry breaks the silence.

"I don't know about you but I'm getting a shower." Draco snorts and Harry smiles. They look at each other tellingly; the nightmarish affair has brought them unimaginably closer.

"Potter? The next time you have an urge to talk, just pass a note like everyone else."

Harry laughs and starts on his way to his room.

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