Lorri was still dwelling on Ben's fleeting exit as she recommenced her stroll back to Gryffindor tower. Why had he hurried away down the stairs without even so much as a goodbye? She felt a modest sag of disappointment within her chest; she had so hoped to discuss the party with him, wanted to hear of his plans and his opinions of her forming ideas. After all, there wasn't precisely an ardent flock of students motivated to help. Ben's admission that he would like to assist her had inflated Lorri's spirit to a different, new point, even further than her usual state of glee. But, now, she could not dismiss the distracting pang in her stomach, the strong feeling that Ben wouldn't want to even talk to her anymore. Why else would he have vanished so rapidly, so obviously on purpose, if he hadn't had a sudden change of heart? Lorri did not like these thoughts, she deliberately slapped her forehead, as though the gentle thwack would force her negative instincts out from within her mind. She sighed heavily, forced a smile to nobody but the empty corridor and watched her feet as she walked.

She was humming the deep mantra of the Valentines Day flyers as she passed a particularly withered portrait of a decrepit bearded man, his eyes a watery blue. The portrait displayed him slouching lazily in a squashy navy armchair, a pipe slung idly between his thin lips. The portrait's welcoming, snug scene heightened Lorri's mood, and she smiled at the pipe smoking man. She was somewhat nonplussed however, when he did not smile back. Rather, he gazed to the left, the way Lorri had just come, then peered down at her and grunted from behind his pipe,

'You'd wanna make a habit of watchin' behind ya, girlie'

Lorri furrowed her brow. She had opened her mouth to express her confusion at the painted man's words when, to her horror, she felt a clammy, hasty hand grope around at her face and tighten its clutch across her mouth. Within another breathless moment, a second hand had forced its frozen grip upon her forearm. Injected with an instant panic, Lorri systematically writhed and squealed under her icy restraints. Beyond her shrieks, she could faintly hear the frantic voice of the person behind her, holding her still.

'Shh! Quiet!' the voice hissed 'Oh – come on, shutup!'

Lorri's squeaks did not cease. The voice seemed inpatient, desperate.

'Shutup! I'm not going to hurt you… Just calm down so I can speak!'

Lorri's heart was thudding in her throat. Her lower lip was trembling threateningly and, though her fear was still present enough to allow her to whimper underneath the icy grip, her brain began to shift into some kind of focus. Beyond the pressure of her terrified heart, she opened her ears to her restrainer's words; surely it would be a better idea to obey the demands of the person forcing her motionless. The shrill pitch of her protests gradually began to ease into low, quick-breathed gasps. A few moments later, the hands seemed to realise Lorri's increasing calm, and though the frosty grip was not relieved, the tense hold was softened over her mouth. The faceless voice was breathing rapidly, apparently searching for fitting words. Lorri's eyes were large, mind alert, as the voice sighed then began to murmur once more.

'Okay – good… Now listen, I don't want to hurt you… But – but we need to talk…'

Lorri's confusion was silent. She could not recognise the voice as it continued.

'We can – We can go up here…' The voice's final statement seemed to have been directed at itself. Lorri was anxious yet collected as the second clammy hand renewed its pressure on her forearm, and twitched nervously as it began to lead her slowly backwards. Lorri remained quiet due to fear, though the unlikely positioning of she and her captor triggered several painful nudges in ribs and hips as they went. It was very dark now; the feebly pale light of the moon's watch glimmered eerily through the windows and upon the hard wooden floors. Usually, Lorri enjoyed nights like these; the radiance of the moon's beam piercing the darkness would normally have been comforting, now she found it be mocking her.

Lorri was anxious upon the thought that her restrainer may wish her to scale a staircase on the way to their destination; she did not believe her quivering body would be able to heave itself neither up nor down. Her captor's pressured presence behind her forced Lorri to be staggering backwards in an uncomfortable, graceless pose. It was therefore that she was inwardly grateful upon the faceless voice's halt midway through an empty corridor. Lorri was silent; listening fixedly. It was evident that her captor was whispering to itself, expressing the same frenzied hiss over and over again. She remained motionless underneath its clutch, fearful of it stiffening its grip if she made the faintest stir in the wrong direction. She was, however, stunned to realise that her holder was no longer focussed upon Lorri's presence. A large wooden door had materialised within the previously solid stone wall, and her captor was now gifting it with steadfast attentions. Lorri gazed upwardly at the door; she was perplexed, though the door's emergence did not seem to register completely with her; her thoughts remained with her restrainer. Lorri gasped as she was suddenly jolted forwards towards the alien door, and fidgeted as the hand which previously rested upon her forearm gingerly turned the knob and pushed.

The room beyond was small, Lorri would have considered it cosy and inviting had she not been grasped immobile by the nameless hands. Within rested two armchairs, squashy yet obviously new. A petite, spindly legged coffee table was positioned between the cushioned seats. Two steaming mugs were set atop, stirring a pleasant, chocolatey smell within Lorri's nostrils. Noticeably suspended from the tiny room's ceiling was a large, rounded lantern. It was emanating a deep, restful crimson light which bestowed the entire area with a welcoming air of calm. Lorri's puzzlement danced about her mind. Why would the icy hands direct her here? This comfortable, aromatic room? Why would her restrainer wish to lead her somewhere so… Nice?

Lorri's perplexity heightened and her heart once again bound just behind her neck as she felt the

bitter frost of the hands slowly ease, melt away. Her captor was releasing its clutch. Her breath hastened, she was transfixed, her feet seemed to be wedged to the elderly wooden floorboards. She closed her eyes impulsively, as though frantically hoping, wishing that the room, no matter how comfortable, would evaporate and she would awake in her secure, familiar dormitory. Unconsciously, her moist hands tugged and wrenched at her own fingers, a minute tear escaping her determinedly closed eyes and faintly staining her ashen cheek. She was breathless as the drawling whisper behind spoke again.

'You can turn around now.' The voice was would-be calm, though a flicker of anxiety licked the end of the statement. Lorri remained motionless.

'Please…' the voice struggled with the simple word, 'just turn around…'

Lorri inhaled. A great gulp of fresh, aromatic air satisfied her lungs. The voice was still speaking to her back.

'You already know I'm not here to hurt you… Just – just turn… It would end this all a lot faster…'

The voice's concluding words resonated within Lorri's troubled mind. It had expressed her profound desire; she merely wanted to return to Gryffindor tower. The voice was prompting, impatient, but not inciting harm. Lorri gazed upon her oversized shoes, apparently in deep deliberation. She sighed, halfheartedly reassuring herself that the sooner she turned around and acknowledged her captor's identity, the sooner she would be safe in bed, asleep, her dreams removing her from the memory of the icy hands' grasp and the sneering murmur of the faceless voice…

Lorri bit her lip, clutched her own hand tightly and slowly turned.

Before her, the figure from whom the voice had surfaced was dressed in school robes, a scarf wrapped attentively around his neck. His face was pasty, and his hair was arranged perfectly; it appeared somewhat inexplicable in its flawlessness. Lorri stared, mystified, though her fear had begun to gradually drain. In front of her, a few feet away, Draco Malfoy was peering at her apprehensively. He cleared his throat, and the impatience Lorri had realised within his voice was now reflected in his constant movement and furrowed brow.

'Uh – sit down…' he uttered suddenly. Lorri shifted her gaze towards the beckoning armchairs.

'Um… what?' she asked cautiously, 'What is this?'

Malfoy removed his scarf, an irritated edge to his actions.

'This is the Room of Requirement. I required a room to speak to you in, and I this is what I got. This is important, I'd like you to sit down.' His voice was accompanied by a tiny yet audible snarl. Lorri comprehended his slight annoyance and, still eager to return to her house's tower, she tentatively sunk her body onto the edge of the armchair's seat. Immediately, she realised it was even more snug and plush than she had anticipated. Malfoy had sat upon the opposite armchair now and, though his impatience and uneasiness of the situation remained to be evident, he was experiencing trouble meeting Lorri's eyes. Following several silent, tense moments, Lorri started.

'You ah… Need to talk to… Me?' Her eyebrows were raised enquiringly. Malfoy's head remained down.

'Yes,' he stated quickly, 'it's very important.'

Lorri's sensation of fear had now evaporated entirely, and was currently being hastily replaced by an overwhelming air of curiosity.

'Really?' Her eyes were wide. 'What is it that is so very important?'

It was at this point that she was dismissed from interacting with the top of Malfoy's head, as he slowly raised himself, and connected with Lorri's eyes for the first time. Lorri was astounded to observe the expression there. Malfoy's constant impatience and slight irritation had remained intact, though now there was something different, an air of inquisitiveness, discomfort or even… exposure? Lorri understood immediately the difficulty he was feeling as a result of having to talk to her, being forced to ask her for help with the problem he had not yet revealed. She awaited his response his with cool patience, experiencing an odd sensation of guilt and pity for him.

'Uh…' began his whispered retort, 'it's… I know that you're interested in these things, I realised when you fell into the Potions class this morning.'

For the second time that day, Lorri came into contact with a crumpled copy of her Valentines Day flyer, as Malfoy gingerly removed one from his pocket. His eyes remained upon the flyer as he spoke.

'Do you know… uh… Marcie?'

Lorri frowned, then squinted in consideration.

'Uhh… No?' Her bemusement had resurfaced and she scratched her head gently. Malfoy's eyes abruptly widened.

'But – but you must! She's in fifth year too, she's a Gryffindor! You must know her!'

Lorri paused. She continued to explore her mind in hope of discovering the identity of the 'Marcie' Malfoy spoke of. A number of minutes had passed (during which she employed several methods of trying to remember, including blocking her ears and humming), before Lorri gasped 'Oh!' and chuckled to herself.

'Oh… You mean Marcella!' She laughed at her blunder, 'But why do you call her Marcie?'

Malfoy appeared impassive. He merely whispered 'I don't know.'

Having disarmed any previous fear she had withheld of her captor, Lorri relaxed and leant back in her spongy armchair. Her habitual grin materialised and she simply gazed at Malfoy as she awaited him to recommence their conversation. Though Malfoy perceived her gaining calm, his collected demeanour did not meet Lorri's; he remained anxious. He rearranged his features prior to speaking next so as to appear unruffled, but his unease was still obvious.

'Uh… I need… help.' The word seemed shameful to him. Lorri leaned forward slightly, 'Marcie – uh, Marcella… doesn't like me.'

Lorri was expressionless. She wanted him to continue, she hoped her indifferent appearance would prompt him to explain further.

'And… I wish her to like me. I actually need her to like me. And… When you rolled into the dungeon this morning, I… Eye of Newt…'

Lorri raised an eyebrow at his irrelevant final words, though decided to remain soundless. Malfoy spoke more effectively uninterrupted.

'Okay… When you rolled into the dungeons this morning, I realised that you would be the best person to ask… In other uh – words, I brought you here… I needed to talk to you because – because I know you would the only one interested enough to help… Help secretly. Secretly.'

An anxious pause indicated that he had finished. Meanwhile, Lorri had been accumulating his words within her mind, and finally believed that she understood why they were here, why he had brought her to the Room of Requirement, why he had needed to speak to her…

She smiled at him. He had not been prepared for this gesture, and narrowed his eyes slightly. Lorri straightened herself up in her chair ceremoniously and clasped her hands.

'So, you are asking me to assist you in gaining the affections of one Marcella Bell?' Her broad grin was barely suppressed. Malfoy merely stared.

'Isn't that what I've been saying?' To his alarm, Lorri proceeded to bounce slightly up and down upon her chair, clapping her hands and giggling to herself. An air of suspicion floated upon Malfoy's face.

'You're – you're going to help? Secretly?' He added resolvedly. Lorri giggled louder.

'Oh! Of course! Of course! Yes, in secret!'

Though Malfoy was more than faintly surprised at Lorri's reaction, he exhaled deeply in relief. Abruptly, he then got to his feet. His formidable stance was a significant contrast to the pose he retained upon their initial entry to the room. He peered down at Lorri's armchair, who was still clapping.

'Well, I'm going then. I'm glad that's settled. We'll have to meet here, I guess.' He was muttering to himself more than anybody else, then he shifted his piercing gaze directly to Lorri's face and said definitely 'We'll meet here tomorrow night, at exactly eight clock. I don't want you to be late.'

Upon his final word, he turned elegantly towards the door and placed his hand on the knob. He had proceeded to turn it when Lorri's clapping ceased, and she cried,

'Wait!'

Malfoy halted, seemingly exasperated, and moved only his head in Lorri's direction, so that he could see her in his peripheral vision. She had raised a solitary finger and was now shaking it mischievously. Her face wore a stern yet amused expression.

'I will help you,' she began 'on one condition.'

Malfoy's frown was more pronounced. He turned to face her directly, arms folded.

'And what is that?'

Lorri grinned. 'That you help me with the preparations for the Valentines Day party.'

Malfoy looked aghast. He scoffed and gifted Lorri a severe expression. Lorri bit her lip. She was not one for tedious battles.

'In secret?' she suggested reproachfully.

Malfoy furrowed his brow at her, sighed and then murmured through clenched teeth, 'fine'.

Lorri's compulsion to bounce on her seat seemed to return to her immediately, and she was clapping and giggling for several of the following minutes. However, once she had regained her composure to a sufficient point, she rotated on the spot to express her excitement to the Slytherin student, and she was confronted with the fact that he had vanished, leaving her alone within the crimson hued Room of Requirement.

Arrgh! I hate this chapter! So annoying to write, lol, but it had to be done. Also, to thequietworld92, thankyou so much for your reviews! They're awesome and they mean bundles. Have a nice day :

ket.