Less Thinking, More Kissing

Part 8: Meeting Malfoy

As I leave the Great Hall, my stomach is left doing somersaults. I hear my footsteps echo in the empty hallways in tandem with the rapid pounding from my chest. My head is swimming with questions as my feet carry me mindlessly to the Room of Requirements.

There's still time to turn back and forget the whole thing. Right?

Will he even show up?

How the bloody hell does Hermione know everything?

I make it to the 7th floor, pass the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and reach the barren wall of the concealed door. I walk past it three times, but what do I need? Just a place to meet Draco, one that's quiet and we can't be disturbed in...

A large, pink wooden door appears and I reach out, swinging it open. My jaw drops in disgust and embarrassment. This is not what I need in the slightest. The room looks as if Valentine's Day threw up all over the walls, leaving the stench of love and pink frills in its wake.

I shut the door and sigh. I can't talk to Draco in there.

I kick the door and the force makes it rattle. The door quickly shrinks, but when it reappears it's narrow and no longer pink. Instead, the door is old looking and beaten down. I shrug slightly to myself; at least it's not pink.

When I open the Room of Requirements for the second time, I'm greeted by a small broom closet I've become very accustomed to hiding in with the Weasley twins. I'll take a broom closet over that terribly decorated Love Room any day. I step inside and shut the door and the room becomes dark. It's a tight squeeze; this room must have it out for me.

Now, I wait and listen for footsteps coming down the hall. I know what I want to say to Draco, but it's never that simple. Words never come easily around him. Why did I ever think this was a good idea?

Suddenly, the door tears open causing a whirl of wind to cover my eyes with dark hair and my robes to float around my ankles. The silhouette of a tall boy stands in the doorway, looking into the cramped room.

"This has got to be a joke, Potter," Draco says, practically growling.

"Get it or you'll be seen," I say, but he's already moved into the cramped space and slammed the door shut. The room becomes dark again, and I struggle to grab the wand from my pocket, accidentally elbowing Draco in the ribs- "Ouch!" - in the process before muttering an incantation.

"Lumos," I say, a small light illuminating the closet. Draco leans back against the wall across from me, but I'm very aware of our knees brushing and a slow breathing in the silence that follows.

"You wanted to see me?" Draco begins. He looks around, seeming very interested in the broom closet. His eyes land everywhere but on my face.

"Yes," I say. That's a good start, Harry. Isn't it, Hermione? says an encouraging voice in my head. He makes Grawp's English sound very impressive Hermione says, sounding disappointed. Hermione, don't be so rude! And with that, they begin to bicker. Real helpful, guys.

"And... Are you actually going to tell me what's going through your head for once?"

"Er- yes," I say, but this time find it in myself to keep going. "I want to talk about what happened last night, before it's too late-"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Potter. Nothing happened last night," he snaps before I'm even given a chance to finish. The aggression suddenly engulfing his voice and contorting his face surprises me. I try to take a step back, but only bump into the wall. This damn room.

"Bu- what do you mean? I only wanted to talk," I stutter, clearly thrown off guard. "And obviously you do too, or you wouldn't have come," I say, the initial confusion slipping from my mind and molding into anger. Why is Draco always so infuriating?