Fic: Stonewalled, D/H, R
Title: Stonewalled
Author: foreword
Disclaimer: The boys aren't mine. Neither is the room. :(
Summary: Harry finally gets into the Room of Requirement.
Rating: R
Warnings: HBP spoilers, fighting (some bloody lips and such)
A/N: Thanks to cloudsurfing for the beta. :)



“What the fuck do you want, Potter?”

Harry gaped at the blonde boy from under his trusted cloak. This marked the second time this year that Draco had known he was there, in spite of his invisibility. Harry scowled, not wanting to end up trapped again, and tugged off the cloak.

“Just want to know what a git like you is doing in there.”

He cocked his head toward the wall opposite the tutu-adorned troll. Malfoy flushed at this and narrowed his eyes, his pointy nose making him look remarkably like a hawk.

“None of your business, I’d imagine.”

He turned, fully intending on storming away, something which greatly irritated Harry. Without thinking, he’d taken hold of Malfoy’s upper arm. Before he’d had a moment to re-evaluate this action, Malfoy had spun around, his wand out and pointed directly at Harry. Harry didn’t blink before reacting, and now they faced each other at wand point.

But neither spoke. Neither moved. Harry was tensed for an attack that never came, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“Tell me.”

Malfoy’s face darkened – he was clearly enraged – and Harry thought ‘Protego,’ suddenly and frantically. But nothing happened.

“Guess you’ll never know, will you?”

And Draco had lowered his wand – was turning to leave.

“I know you’re a Death Eater.”

Draco froze, and Harry thought he saw the lowered wand tremble slightly, though it may have been a trick of the light. And then Malfoy had turned, had a hold of Harry’s collar and was dragging him toward the blank stretch of stone as Harry kicked and yelled and swung, his wand clattering to the ground as his fist connected with the side of Malfoy’s face.

But Malfoy only cursed and tightened his grip, making Harry feel as though his windpipe was closing up and then Malfoy had thrown him to the cold stone floor. Harry felt his glasses break as he hit, tasted blood on his lips as he rolled onto his back, blinking at the blank stretches of stone surrounding him.

Malfoy was leaning heavily against a wall, his breathing laboured and his body sagging. Harry hadn’t even realised they had entered another room, but after a moment, he glared suspiciously up at Malfoy, still panting slightly and edging up onto his elbows.

“There’s nothing here.”

Malfoy didn’t answer right away, scowling and trying to control his breathing as he placed a hand against his head, closing his eyes. There was blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth where Harry’s fist had connected with his face, and Harry felt a sharp, momentary pang of guilt.

And then Malfoy spoke, wincing as if the words hurt him more than the physical abuse had.

“It’s the Room of Requirement, Potter.”

“But it’s –“

But a thought had just occurred to Harry, and he couldn’t finish his objection. He swallowed hard, flushing.

Malfoy turned away from him, running his fingers over the stone and pretending Harry wasn’t there.

He had walked the length of the Room, and Harry hadn’t moved, unable to process the thought that hung in his head like some sort of permanent hyphen.

Draco stopped on the far side of the room and sighed.

“There’s no exit, Potter. Brilliant work, really.”

Harry’s mouth opened in indignation and he was on his feet without a moment’s hesitation, crossing the space between them.

“It wasn’t my idea! Anyway, if you really wanted one –“

But Harry couldn’t finish that sentence, instead concluding it with a blush and a furious avoidance of Malfoy’s gaze.

Draco cleared his throat, clearly intent on ignoring anything Harry might have to say.

“Charming, really.”

Harry glared back at him.

“Yeah, well, clearly it’s broken or something.” His spirits lifted at the thought. “I mean, I haven’t been able to see what I wanted to for a while.”

Draco tensed. “Requirement, Potter. Not Room of Catering to Potter’s Demands.”

Harry scowled. He wanted to hit him again. Draco sighed at Harry’s angry silence, and then cold fingers were brushing his cheeks and Malfoy was prying his glasses off.

Harry was too stunned to object to this, so he watched as Draco turned them over in his hands, running his fingers over a cracked lens.

“You looked rather dumb, you know, even for you.”

“Give them back.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“They’re broken, Potter. The only good they’ll do is possibly slicing your eye open.”

Harry reached for them anyway, trying to focus through the blurriness enough to grab them from Draco’s hand, but he missed, his balance overthrown by this desperate attempt and then he and Draco were crashing to the floor together, Draco cursing as they fell, the glasses clattering to the rough stone floor.

He could feel Draco breathing underneath him, and he shifted, arranging himself so that he was looking down into a rather alarmed-looking pair of grey eyes. He had every intention of pushing himself off, of ignoring how good the warm body beneath him felt, but he found himself unable to move.

This did not impress Draco in the slightest, and he cursed again, shifting underneath Harry and scowling, muttering various complaints that Harry didn’t care enough about to listen to, because in the next moment he was kissing him and the squirming beneath him had subsided.

Malfoy’s mouth was as cold as his fingers, and his lips were hard against Harry’s, and Malfoy’s pelvic bone was digging into his thigh but Harry couldn’t ever remember doing something that felt this right.

And then Malfoy bit him, his bony fingers clawing at Harry’s chest as he squirmed again, trying to shove him off and cursing into Harry’s mouth.

Harry hit the stone hard, his head falling back against it with a crack, and Malfoy was straddling him then. Harry wondered briefly if he’d kiss him back before a fist connected with the side of Harry’s jaw. He blinked at the surprisingly clear sparks that were suddenly clouding his vision as Malfoy pulled his fist back again, sinking it into Harry’s stomach this time, and Harry suddenly found that he couldn’t breathe. Malfoy was pulling his fist back again and Harry reached up, catching it. Malfoy cursed at him as he tugged his hand back and Harry prepared for another blow, still trying to catch his breath.

But now Malfoy was on his feet, pacing the room, finally stopping to shout things at a part of the still door less wall, hitting the stone with his fists until they bled. Harry scrambled to his feet, scrabbling for his glasses, his face flushed with embarrassment and anger.

“What’s your problem?”

Malfoy whirled around, his eyes wide and his cheeks pink.

“My problem? What the fuck was that, Potter?”

He looked angry enough to hit him again and Harry swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand – something Malfoy had probably forgotten to do in his anger.

“I … I’m sorry, okay? I just figured –“

“You’re sorry?!”

Malfoy was starting to sound a bit hysterical. Harry took a step back, meeting cold stone wall.

Malfoy crossed the space between them, stopping so close to Harry that he could feel soft puffs of Malfoy’s breath against his throat.

Harry, upon reflection, realised that he knew Malfoy was going to kiss him even before he knew it.

One minute, Malfoy was glaring at him, and then there was a hard, assertive mouth on his and Draco was pressing him up against the wall. Harry tasted blood but didn’t care. He wasn’t the most experienced with this sort of thing, but he knew that most people didn’t kiss like that. Malfoy kissed like he fought. But maybe he was only like that with Harry. The thought made him shiver, and when Malfoy finally pulled away with bruised and broken lips, Harry didn’t particularly want to know how most people kissed.

“I hate you.”

Harry offered him a lopsided grin, something which only seemed to irk Draco more.

“I hate you, too.”