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Harry quickly ducked as the stinging jinx flew past his head, singeing the ends of the long strands of his messy black hair. Harry was in the middle of a heated duel with Malfoy in the Hogwarts courtyard, and they'd managed to draw in quite the crowd during the short space of time they'd been fighting. Harry straightened up and aimed his wand directly at the blonde’s chest, who was stood across from him, side stepping towards the fountain, before yelling ‘Flipendo!’ And watching with glee as Malfoy was thrown backwards, crashing heavily into some courtyard bushes.
Malfoy quickly recovered though, faster than Harry had anticipated and sent a spell flying towards him, a hex he didn't recognise. Harry managed to cast Protego just in time, which made the unknown spell ricochet into the fountain, causing a large gush of water to spray onto the crowd of people standing nearby with a loud splash. Harry hated to admit it but he was enjoying this. He’d not had a proper fight in ages, and Malfoy, the bloody git, had been winding him up all week with a new charm he had invented, which when cast upon parchment, made the edges razor sharp, cutting Harry’s fingertips whenever he picked up any of his papers. Impressive magic, Harry had admitted, but with utterly infuriating and painful results.
Harry’s hands were getting so sore with paper cuts that he promised himself that the next time he saw Malfoy, he was going to pay for it. But Malfoy had seen him first, sending a tripping spell his way in the corridors, resulting in Harry flying into a group of second years, who had screamed as Harry's now broad, 18 year old form knocked a good 4 of them over. Harry had lost it at that point, and turned to find Malfoy doubled over with laughter, which quickly changed to a nasty grin as he saw Harry get up off the floor and pull out his wand. A few spells later, they were battling fiercely.
Inspired by the spray of the fountain, Harry pointed his wand at Malfoy and yelled “Aguamenti!”
To which an enormous jet of water, like that from a fire hose, erupted from his wand. Harry wasn't quite anticipating the sheer power of it, evidently intensified by his fury, and was thrown backwards himself, hitting a stone wall and smashing his head against it, seeing stars. The jet of water pummelled Draco, who was holding his hands up over his head uselessly, before he came to his senses and created a huge shield, exploding the water away from him, further soaking the onlooking crowd, who shrank further away from the pair as the battle became more turbulent. White hair and uniform dripping, shirt translucent and sticking to his heaving chest, Draco laughed. Harry ceased the water spell and pushed himself off the wall, running at Draco. He was losing strength and his head was pounding but he needed to shut the bastard up. A fist connected with Draco's jaw before the other boy had time to even register Harry pelting towards him, and Harry followed him down as they fell heavily to the floor. A mad struggle ensued, before Draco pulled an arm free and collided it with Harry's nose, which spurted hot red liquid onto the pavestones and down Harry's face. Draco grabbed the front of Harry’s shirt with both fists and pushed him over onto his back, at which point Harry kicked out from underneath him, bucking the blond off-balance to land heavily on top of Harry. Nose to nose, they struggled with each other for a moment before Harry caught Malfoy’s left wrist with his free hand and yanked it awkwardly behind Malfoy’s own back, eliciting a yell of pain and forcing Malfoy forward, head butting Harry painfully as the side of his head collided with his own. He was half way through trying to heave Malfoy to the ground before a loud BANG made his head snap to the side.
“THAT. IS. ENOUGH!” Headmistress McGonagall rushed out through the swinging front doors into the courtyard, cloak billowing heavily behind her. She looked furious. She rushed towards them and spelled them unforgivingly apart, sending the two flying in opposite directions across the courtyard, both skidding harshly to a stop.
“I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR CHILDISH BRAWLING!”
McGonagall bellowed in her thick Scottish accent. Harry shot a glance at Draco, who was on his side leaning on one arm, breathing heavily, completely soaked with water and Harry's blood. His wet hair fell over his eyes, and he sneered up at McGonagall. Harry grimaced seeing his own blood smeared across Draco’s face. Draco ran his tongue over his bottom lip and retracted it, tasting Harry’s blood. He looked at Harry, and shot him a dangerous smirk through tendrils of wet hair. Harry felt a weight in his stomach and spat out some of the blood that had pooled around his own mouth, maintaining eye contact with Draco. Draco just cocked an eyebrow and grinned, revealing Harry’s blood staining his white teeth.
“Are you listening to me?”
McGonagall shot at both of them, and Harry tore his gaze from Malfoy to look at her. He’d normally feel guilty for breaking the rules but today there was a fire raging inside him, so he didn't care. He looked at McGonagall seriously, as if trying to silently communicate to her that Malfoy had deserved it, the git.
“A weeks detention, both of you, and I swear, if I see you two so much as look at each other again, I will send you home, immediately. Do you understand me?”
Neither of them spoke, but Harry shifted uncomfortably on the cold, wet stone floor. Ignoring Malfoy would be a monumental task. He didn’t think a single day had gone by this year where they didn’t at least threaten each other. They were enemies, and they liked to remind each other and everyone in the school on a regular basis. At this point, it had practically become a competition to see who could piss each other off the most.
“Potter?”
McGonagall looked at him, eyes wide and face serious. He nodded, and looked over at Malfoy instinctively, before something stung him, like a slap in the face, and made his head whip back towards McGonagall, who’s wand was pointed directly at him. Harry’s lifted his arm, hand cupping his stung cheek, and hissed in pain. He heard Malfoy laugh cruelly, but another resonating spark of magic echoed around the yard, and he was silenced, evidently struck with the same stinging jinx.
“I said not even a look. Gentlemen. You are now to proceed with the rest of the year as if the other doesn’t exist. I will amend your class schedules accordingly so you will no longer have any lessons together. This has gone far enough.” McGonagall shot icy glances at each of them.
“Malfoy. You will return immediately to the Slytherin common room and inform Professor Slughorn of the changes. Potter. You will stay here and clean up this courtyard until It has been returned to it’s original condition. Do you both understand me?”
Harry nodded, looking at the floor. He assumed Malfoy had nodded too, because the last thing the professor said before angrily striding back into the castle was,
“Get to it.”
A few days went by, and Harry’s life suddenly became much less interesting. There were no insults, no jinxed parchment, no tripping hexes or brawls in the corridor. Harry hadn’t seen the blonde since the courtyard incident, and although a part of him was relieved to not have to see his stupid sneer all the time, another part of him was getting restless. This year had been strange, having had come back to Hogwarts after the war and everyone treating him like some kind of hero. It was uncomfortable. But fighting with Draco was normal, grounding, and helped Harry get out the emotions that he just couldn't articulate in any other way than fighting. And now that he’d lost the only thing that was letting him feel normal, he was more pent up and frustrated than ever.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Hermione had demanded at breakfast one morning. Harry had just sent a first years’ quill and parchment flying across the Great Hall ‘by accident’ when he’d asked for his autograph. Harry looked incredulously at her, her bushy hair bristling with accusations, before sighing and looking dejectedly into his cereal. If he told her exactly how he was feeling she’d think he was going mad. How could he say he missed fighting with Malfoy without sounding like a masochistic maniac?
“Sorry Hermione I just… I’m struggling at the moment. I think I need to be alone. Sorry.” Harry got up from the table and strode out of The Great Hall, without looking back at Hermione. She would never relate to how he was feeling. Harry thought the war might have just broken him. Why did he need some sort of conflict To feel normal? He frowned as he considered the illogical nature of it all. A pit of something churned in his stomach, uncomfortably.
The unpleasant feeling only intensified as the weeks went by. Harry had also noticed himself constantly looking out for Malfoy, hoping he’d see a blonde head bobbing along a corridor or in the Great Hall. Sometimes he would get a glimpse of white and something would rush through him like a hot flash of adrenaline. One time, he’d actually found him, and watched Malfoy eat lunch in the Great Hall, the ball of heat in his stomach growing bigger and bigger as he watched the other boy moodily pick at his food, his sleeves rolled up and his white hair flopping over his creased brow, before a stinging sensation broke out over his face and he looked up to the teachers table to see McGonagall looking at him with a raised brow. Harry looked at her guilty and rubbed his face, urging the stinging away, and went back to eating, keeping his eyes down, the image of Malfoy pounding in his head like a virus.
One afternoon, Harry was sat alone in the library struggling to write his potions essay. It was spring, and extremely hot for so early in the season, the sun beating down on Harry through the tall glass windows between the bookcases. Harry’s foot tapped irritably, and he turned his quill in the hand that wasn't holding the weight of his head in its palm. It was too hot. Harry's clothes were clinging to his body, even wearing just a thin shirt, he could feel his sweat making the too-tight material stick to his skin. His glasses slipped down his quickly moistening face, and he pushed them back up with the end of his feathered quill. He read over the sentence he’d written, and after reading it over and over again without taking in any of the meaning, he slammed his quill down on the wooden desk and leaned back in his chair, the hand he was leaning on reaching up and tangling in his damp hair. He felt a bead of sweat roll down the underside of his chin and down his neck as he stretched his head back, before the sound of clattering dropped books made him tilt his head towards the noise. He blinked.
Draco Malfoy was stood two rows away, staring at him, a pile of books at his feet. He too looked irritated and hot. A flush blossomed over his pale cheeks, and his hair was curling slightly in the humidity. He looked furious. They locked eyes and Harry's stomach twisted oddly. Malfoy’s pupils were blown, his chest rising and falling visibly, the top 3 buttons of his half tucked in shirt exposing the gleaming skin of it. Harry formed a fist in his hand on the desk and Malfoy’s mouth tightened. There were too many people around. Harry knew that if they acted up and started a fight right now they’d both certainly be expelled. Instead, they just stared at each other, hungrily. Draco licked his lips, and Harry swallowed. He knew Draco was as desperate as he was to get his hands on him and to beat the living daylights out of each other.
Finally Malfoy broke their staring match and swept away, walking out of sight behind a bookshelf. Harry breathed out, and leant forward over his parchment. His heart hammered against his chest, the adrenaline slowly wearing off. Bloody hell. He hadn't anticipated that seeing Malfoy again would elicit such a strong urge inside him. He couldn't stay here. He needed to get this energy out, needed to go outside at least, get some air, why was is so damn hot?
A torn piece of paper floated underneath Harry's nose, making him jump. It landed gently on top of his essay, and Harry looked up to try and identify the sender. His eyes scanned the book cases, but no one was there. He blinked back down at the blank parchment and reached to turn it over.
“Shit!” Harry hissed. Trickles of crimson blood oozed out of his index finger and thumb as he touched the edge of the paper, dripping red circles onto its surface. Harry’s heart hammered once again. It was Malfoy’s self invented charm. He looked down at the paper eagerly and saw writing emerge onto it in an elegant black script. Harry laughed humourlessly as he realised Draco had also charmed it so that only blood could reveal the message. That was some dark magic.
‘Meet me in the Room of Requirement at 11pm.’
Harry reached for his wand and turned the paper over with the tip. The underside of the note was blank. Harry's pulse quickened and he felt fresh sweat staining his shirt. Hastily, he quickly incedio’d the parchment until it had vanished completely, and wafted the resulting smoke away hastily. A moment later, a bony set of shoulders and a pin-like head stuck themselves out between two bookcases and glared at Harry through narrow eyes. Harry sat up straight and tried to look innocent.
“I can smell burning.” Mrs Pince whispered sharply. Harry raised his eyebrows and shrugged, although he couldn't help a small smile curling on his lips. He felt slightly ecstatic at the idea of a midnight duel with Malfoy, especially in the Room of Requirement, where they could go for hours and no one would hear them. He was going to get out all this pent up rage and anger, and Harry couldn't feel more darkly excited. Mrs Pince’s eyebrows creased. Harry knew he'd been caught.
“Get out.”
***
Harry enveloped himself in his invisibility cloak as he stepped through the portrait hole. Even though he knew he could easily sneak unnoticed around the castle these days, he didn't want to take any chances. This was not something he was going to risk missing.
As he swiftly paced down moving staircases and along wide corridors, the moonlight glimmered on the castle walls, breaking occasionally for the torches glowing orange in their brackets. Harry's heart was beating fast, and his mind was racing with all the different hexes and spells he had learnt over the years. He didn't want to kill Malfoy, obviously, just fight with him, relieve some tension, and maybe put him in the hospital wing for a few days. Harry grinned, and rounded the corner to the 7th floor corridor, to see a doorway visible in the low light. Malfoy must already be inside. Harry stopped for a moment in front of it and looked around him, checking the coast was clear. Seeing nothing except still darkness, he pulled off the cloak and balled it up into a smaller than possible bundle and shoved it deep into the back pocket of his stiff denim jeans. He straightened his threadbare t-shirt, pushed back his hair and opened the heavy wooden door.
The room, to Harry's astonishment, was not at all what he had imagined the room would produce for someone requiring it for duelling. He was expecting something more along the lines of the D.A classroom they'd made in 5th year, spacious and with high ceilings, but this room had a roaring fireplace with squashy sofas in front of it, decorative adornments placed carefully around the medium sized room, and a friendly, relaxed feel about it. Taken aback, Harry froze. Perhaps Malfoy wasn't here? Maybe someone else had found the room, requiring it for some other purpose?
Harry, realising how much trouble he could get in if he was caught out of bed after curfew, hastily turned back towards the door, until a voice from across the room made him pause.
“Running away Potter?” Harry looked over his shoulder into the room and saw Malfoy emerge from a shadowy spot, pointing his wand directly at Harry. Harry swallowed, and turned around to face Malfoy, his furthest hand reaching casually into his pocket where he'd stored his wand.
“What kind of duelling space do you call this Malfoy? Forget how to use the Room of Requirement?” Harry mocked. Malfoy sneered and gripped his want tighter.
“Of course I haven't forgotten, Potter. I think it’s just a bit… broken after what happened last year.” Harry remembered the Fiendfyre, and felt disappointed in himself for not considering what kind of damage that had likely done to the Room. Harry didn't falter though. He took a couple of steps towards Malfoy, eyeing him up. He could see Malfoy better now. His white hair was glowing amber slightly, and his eyes flickered with the reflection of the fire next to him. He was wearing his usual white shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his elbows, half tucked into tight black trousers. He could see he was a little flustered, and his lips were parted. Harry smiled darkly. Malfoy narrowed his eyes.
“Well I guess we'll just have to make do, then. Rictusempura!”
Harry yelled suddenly, pulling out his wand and sending the spell hurling towards Malfoy, who expertly blocked it, and almost instantly countered it with a wordless spell of a huge jet of yellow sparks. Harry dived out of the way, sending a wordless spell of his own back at Draco on his way down, which caught his shoulder and sent him staggering sideways. Harry yelled in triumph and got back to his feet, steadying himself against the back of a nearby sofa. Wordless magic from Malfoy? He was impressed. Nothing he couldn't handle though. He sent a hex speeding at Draco, who was also firing a spell, and the two jets of magic collided with a bang, sending red hot sparks showering across the room. Harry yelled a shout of excited glee and sent another spell whizzing towards Draco. Spell after spell, hex after hex zipped maniacally through the room, destroying the peaceful environment, turning it into the battlefield they had so desired. The two boys danced around each other, testing each others abilities, occasionally landing a spell which would send the other skidding across the wooden floor, earning the other a moment to take a breath, or laugh with victorious derision. Harry had started to sweat, and could feel a few parts of his body getting sore, and his jeans start to stick uncomfortably, but he kept going. This was exactly what he needed, and when he could make out Malfoy through the sparks and smoke of the battle, he saw him mirrored with the same flushed grin and tangled hair as himself. Panting heavily, Harry sent some more jinxes ringing, a few catching ornaments around the cosy room, obliterating them into pieces, sending bits of glass, pottery and wood slashing like razors through the air.
Harry felt his limbs getting scalded and grazed by the various spells and flying debris, but he didn't care. This felt amazing. The two boys started to get closer together as their magic started to wane and weaken after relentless battling. Harry could feel it draining out of him, his spells getting less and less explosive, less destructive. As Harry blocked a sizzle of red sparks from Malfoy's wand he noticed the other boy was getting less powerful now too, and looked just about as dishevelled as he felt.
They came even closer, and Harry looked into Malfoy's burning eyes, passion still seething on his face. Malfoy made an obvious swing of his wand arm, evidently about to cast another spell, but Harry quickly disarmed him, instinctively, and sent Malfoy's wand spinning high into the air behind him and it clattered on the floor among the debris. He looked at Harry furiously, pausing for a millisecond, then pounced forwards, swinging his fist into Harry's wand arm, the contact making Harry growl in pain and drop his wand. Malfoy took Harry by the front of his shirt and shoved him backwards, stumbling with him until Harry's back hit a wall painfully. Harry tried to grab the back of Draco, but Malfoy pinned his shoulders down heavily with his forearms. Malfoy leaned in to the side of Harry's head.
“That's cheating, Potter.”
Malfoy whispered menacingly into Harry's ear, his hot breath tickling Harry's hair, sending a shiver down his ribs and into the pit of his stomach.
“Somebody had to win.” Harry retorted, spluttering slightly, realising his mouth was starting to taste of blood again. Malfoy pulled his head back slowly and looked intensely at Harry, and Harry at him. He noticed Malfoy had a pretty deep cut severing his eyebrow that was oozing dark red blood into his hair, which was dishevelled and curling, sticking to his brow where the blood soaked it, and his face, neck and top of his exposed chest were gleaming with sweat. Malfoy was pressing hard on Harry's body still, and grinned, maintaining his eye contact with Harry.
“And you think the winner was you, do you Potter?”
Harry jerked his shoulders, trying to get free, but Malfoy just pressed himself harder against him, this time bringing his hips forward to also trap Harry's lower half in place. Harry struggled against him, pointlessly. Malfoy laughed, and Harry felt his hot breath against his face, stinging in the places where his skin had evidently broken, exposing damp, raw flesh.
He looked at Draco, furiously, through sweaty strands of hair. Bastard.
Malfoy laughing eased into a grin, and then into a tired seriousness, and he breathed heavily, looking at Harry. His eyes scanned his face, and came to rest on Harry's bloodied lips. As Harry also caught his breath back, he suddenly felt very aware of Draco's entire body pressed up against his. He could feel the others body heat radiating into him, bony hips pressing against his own, creating an odd twisted sensation in the pit of his stomach.
Draco swallowed, and flexed his fists against Harrys chest, and Harry felt their breaths mingle together between their very, very close faces. Harry looked down at Draco's lips, which were red and beaten, and blinked.
Suddenly Malfoy was pressing his hips forward, making a small moan escape Harry, quickly cut of by Draco's lips crashing hard into his. Harry's brain exploded with heat and a buzzing noise filled his ears, as he moved his mouth against the blonde’s, kissing him so desperately that all logical reason completely vanished. Draco's fists moved from Harry's shirt to his dark hair, grabbing handfuls of it painfully.
Hands now free, Harry tugged Malfoy by his belt loops and pressed his hips reciprocally into the other boys’, the pressure sending jolts of pleasure through his core. He heard Malfoy moaning into his mouth at the friction, and bit hungrily at his lip, eliciting a gasp and then a low growl, which he could feel reverberating in his own mouth, making Harry dizzy with lust. Kissing fervently, Harry's fingers unlocked themselves from Malfoy’s belt loops and push their way between the two boys’ flush bodies to finger Draco’s trouser buttons. As he ripped open the top buttons he felt Draco growing harder underneath the tight material, his own body instantly responding with a dizzying rush of blood. But as suddenly as it had started, Malfoy tore himself off Harry, their lips separated, and the warmth of Draco quickly diminished from Harry’s touch.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Malfoy demanded, his chest heaving, red faced and bloody lipped. Harrys blood.
“What am I doing?” Announced Harry. “You're the one who started it! You kissed me!” Harry panted, leaning heavily on the wall behind him. He stared perplexed at the blonde, who stood before him, looking furious, his trousers half opened. Harry couldn't help the jolt of lust that rain through his groin looking at the dishevelled blonde. He finally understood why fighting with Malfoy had felt so good.
“I…” Malfoy covered his flushed face with his hands, rubbed his eyes, then hissed loudly, pulling his hands away from his face after evidently catching his fingers in the gash on his forehead. He looked at the blood on his hand, and then stretched out his arm, showing it meaningfully to Harry.
“We are enemies. Remember? We hate each other. I hate you! I always have! We...” Malfoy trailed off, and looked at Harry, bewildered. Harry just stared back, getting his own breathing back to normal.
They stood like that for a while, saying nothing, just looking at each other. They were both wrecked, blood stained, sweaty, and surrounded by their own ruins. There was a layer of debris covering the entire floor. They were engulfed in torn furnishings, burns on the walls, and even a small fire made of destroyed objects was burning in the furthest corner of the room.
This is what they did to each other, Harry thought. How can one person make you feel all of that passion out of hatred? It just wasn't possible.
Harry knew hatred. Hatred was slow, scary and cruel. This, whatever this was, was not born from hatred. Harry laughed at how obvious it was now. He sank to the floor, and chuckled himself into a stupor. He looked up at Malfoy through blurry eyes and cracked glasses, and his laughter doubled when he saw the dumbstruck look on Malfoy's face.
“Will you shut up!” He shouted. “Stop laughing Potter!” Malfoy demanded petulantly. Harry's laughter trailed off, so that he was reduced to giggling, and he leaned back against the wall with his legs bent and wide apart, looking up at Malfoy through strands of black hair, raising an amused eyebrow. He loved seeing Malfoy wound up like this, and now he knew precisely why.
“Make me.”
Draco stared, eyes darting around Harry’s wanton form.
A second later he was on his knees in front of Harry, grabbing his hair again and kissing him hard.
Harry moaned openly into Draco's mouth and he felt Draco’s thighs sliding under his open legs. He pulled himself up by Malfoy’s collar and straddled him, pushing his tongue deeper into the blondes hot mouth. Moments later he felt two hands pushing themselves up under his thin t-shirt, and short nails digging into the damp flesh of his back, making him gasp. Fuck, he needed more. He needed…
Harry opened his eyes slightly and saw a pile of cushions surrounding them. Harry smirked into Draco's kiss and leaned his whole body weight onto Draco, making the pair fall back into the soft cushions. Harry pulled off him momentarily and Draco eyed around him, raising an eyebrow at the new addition of several pillows. He looked up at Harry, who grinned down at Draco, straightening up slightly to fully straddle him and tear impatiently at the rest of Draco’s shirt buttons that were stiff with sweat.
“This room works just fine.” Harry breathed, popping several buttons open. “You just didn't know that what you actually wanted from me wasn't a duel.”
Harry got the last button open, revealing Draco’s pale chest. He ran his hands over it, toying with Draco’s raised nipples, making the other arch his back into his touch.
“Do shut up Potter, before I reopen that split lip of yours.”
Draco smirked, and grabbed Harry by the shirt again, pulling him down into a biting kiss, his sharp teeth grating Harry's lip. Harry's eyes fluttered with a mix of pain and pleasure, and he rolled his hips against Draco’s, searching. Victoriously feeling something hard underneath him, he pressed himself down into it, smiling into their kiss as he heard a deep moan from the other boy.
Harry noticed an orange glow emitting from the fireplace, and saw, between hectic kisses and desperate hands reaching for forbidden places, the fire had re-lit itself in the hearth. It was like the Room of Requirement approved, and Harry buzzed with pleasure and contentment. The room knew, before either of them, this was exactly what it was needed for.
Of course it did, even if they did have to obliterate the place before realising it themselves.
Fighting with Draco never had never ended so well, and breaking the rules had never felt so good.