Harry Potter: Distorting Enemy Lines (ch. 3)
Title: Distorting Enemy Lines
Author: Reyn
Rating: M
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warnings: post-5th year, with disregard for books 6&7, later angst, slash
Disclaimer: I merely play and twist JK’s creations to my own liking. I don’t actually own anything other than the plot.
Summary: Locked away together by the very people they called friends, Harry and Draco must learn to overcome all petty differences when foreign feelings begin to fall into play.
Chapter Three
Harry woke to find the blanket gone and his fist buried in the pillow barrier. Surprisingly, he remembered where he was and what had transpired the night before, but in his freshly conscious state, he didn’t really care. He needed to go to the loo and that took priority over everything else at the moment.
Rolling out of bed, Harry blindly groped around his pile of clothes for his glasses. Once found, he slipped them on and rose to his knees to make sure nothing had changed.
Hermione’s tapestry - check. Fireplace with seating area - check. Still no door - check. Random bit of wall jutting out from a corner…that was new.
Pulling himself to his feet, Harry stumbled around the bed to go investigate the latest alteration the room had given them. The mound under the blanket on the other side of the bed gave a sudden start as Harry passed by and a sleep-ridden voice sounded.
“Wha’s..? Potter? What’re you…oh. Where are you going?”
Ignoring Malfoy, Harry peered around the short wall and found, to his immense relief, a toilet. As he stepped forward and unzipped his fly, another question floated his way.
“Is that a doo-?” Malfoy’s inquiry was both cut off and answered as the sound of urination echoed into the room. When it stopped, Malfoy’s voice rose. “You better not have just pissed in a corner.” The toilet flushed and no further inquiries were made.
Harry snickered to himself, feeling overly gleeful at managing to bring the Slytherin to silence in such a simple manner. Tucking himself back in, he moved to turn around, only to stop and stare.
A shower and sink had somehow appeared in the suddenly larger nook without his noticing.
Personal hygiene hadn’t been anywhere on his list of immediate concerns for the morning, and last he checked, the Room of Requirement wasn’t in the habit of producing things people weren’t aware they needed. Using his powers of deductive reasoning that he normally saved for when Voldemort was in the picture, Harry figured the room’s other occupant was direly wishing for a bath.
Reminding himself to thank Malfoy if they ever did make it to being on friendly terms, Harry promptly stripped down and stepped into the shower.
Normally, the Gryffindor was fast and efficient when bathing; a habit developed from Uncle Vernon’s constant complaints about the water bill. But today Harry decided upon a nice, long, hot shower, if only to avoid being within sight of Malfoy. He knew it was probably detrimental to whatever truce they were supposed to be working towards, but the way Harry saw it, as long as they avoided one another, fights wouldn’t happen.
Unfortunately, Harry realized his logic was flawed as he stepped out of the bathroom nearly thirty minutes later and discovered that Malfoy had managed to eat nearly all of the food that had appeared for breakfast in his absence.
“Enjoy your shower?” Malfoy sneered as he deliberately bumped Harry in passing.
Harry figured he deserved that. He provoked Malfoy by taking his own sweet time in what the Slytherin probably figured to be his shower, and Malfoy had retaliated by…eating everything.
Shaking his head, Harry approached the small breakfast table that was now located at the foot of the bed. For reasons beyond him, Gryffindors had always been stereotyped as having voracious appetites. It was pretty apparent Malfoy was trying to starve him out as a means of torture.
Grabbing a half-eaten muffin, Harry recalled a time during his second year when he and Ron had a sandwich eating contest just for the hell of it. That had been the first time Harry had truly eaten without inhibition and the contest had ended with him making a mad dash to the nearest broom closet where he was spectacularly sick.
Harry chuckled as he took a seat and bit into the muffin. Beneath that bravado of his, Malfoy’s stomach was probably killing him.
Scraping together remaining bits of bacon, crumbs of other pastry items, and whatever else he could find, Harry did his best to enjoy what he could for breakfast. He excluded the fruit - Malfoy had managed to sabotage what he couldn’t eat of that.
Harry wasn’t picky. Years of growing up on minimal amounts of food gave him plenty of time to realize that beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Munching loudly on a spoonful of dry cereal, Harry gave pause as he heard a sound that wasn’t coming from the shower. Looking around, he tried to see what else could possibly be making noise within the room. He heard the sound again and stood, determined to find its source.
Be a door. Please, please, please be a door, Harry silently begged as he quickly shoveled the rest of his food in his mouth and held it there, afraid that chewing would drown out the…he listened carefully…grinding stone?
Examining the walls, Harry nearly choked when he tried to give a shout of joy as a small hole began to appear. He could hear his name being called and he rushed over as the hole continued to open into a small window with bars.
“Harry? Harry!”
“Miomme!”
Hermione’s enthusiasm quickly diminished at the sight of food bits flying out of Harry’s mouth.
“Don’t.” A hand was held up to stop Harry from speaking any further. “Just chew and swallow your food first!” Hermione’s order ended in a squeak as she was unceremoniously pushed aside and Ron’s ginger head came into view.
“Harry! Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you too bad, did he? I swear this was all Hermione’s idea! She tricked me into it! With her devious - Hey, where is Malfoy anyways?” Ron fell silent long enough to examine what he could of the room. When he couldn’t spot any sign of a second body, his eyes widened. “You didn’t kill him did you? Merlin, Harry, I was worried something like this would…”
Mouth busily working on the particularly dry ingredients, Harry shook his head.
“He’s not dead?” Ron correctly interpreted. He let out a sigh and drew back from the window. “To be honest, I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed, mate,” he joked.
Harry rolled his eyes to show that the sentiment was the same.
“So…did he escape or something?”
Ron frowned at Harry’s thick “mnyo” and tried to come up with other reasons as to why Malfoy couldn’t be found as he waited for his friend to finish his food.
His mouth dropped open in fury as an idea occurred to him. “Don’t tell me he never showed up in the first place! Is this why we couldn’t get the door to appear? Because he locked you in??”
“My locking him in would require me showing up in the first place, idiot.”
Harry jumped, not having heard Malfoy approach. He then did a bit of a double take as he noticed that the paler man was not only missing his shirt, but the rest of his clothes as well. He was also soaking wet and had a towel wrapped so tightly around his waist that Harry could make out the tale tell bulge of his package.
Rather than comment, Harry quickly looked away, his face flushing.
“And the reason the door is gone,” Malfoy continued, failing to notice Harry’s reaction, “is because we still have yet to meet the Head Girl’s stipulations. Thanks, Granger.”
Hermione, who had been patiently standing by waiting for her two best friends to finish reuniting, blinked. “What? But the train’s leaving in thirty minutes!” she blurted.
“Oh? So sorry we’re failing to adhere to your time schedule,” Malfoy hissed as Harry finally swallowed his food and prayed for a bit of patience.
“Hermione, I know you mean well, but please don’t tell me you honestly expected friendship between us to just…blossom overnight,” Harry pleaded with a bit of exaggerated hand motioning.
“I wasn’t asking for friendship,” Hermione flustered. “I was asking for a stop to your constant fighting!”
“By locking us in a room together,” Malfoy helpfully pointed out. “Doesn’t that just make you the genius.”
“Shove it, Ferret,” Ron snapped, recognizing the growing look of guilt in Hermione’s eyes. “Mione, your idea was a great one, but we don’t have time for this. Just give them a door so we can catch the train and deal with their issues some other time.
Against his will, Harry bristled. “I don’t have issues!” His voice echoed with Malfoy’s causing Ron to give the both of them an exasperated look.
The next several seconds ticked by in strained silence as the boys waited for Hermione to undo whatever she had done to the Room of Requirement. Malfoy shuffled forward, eager to be the first one out despite his state of dress. This put him more directly in Harry’s line of sight, causing the Gryffindor to notice the way Malfoy’s back muscles subtly flexed as he shifted from foot to foot.
It’s just a phase, Harry told himself. You’re only noticing because of the way the light is glistening off the wet skin. Happens all the time in the showers. Why? Because shiny things attract attention…And I was a cat in a past life.
Harry audibly groaned at his train of thought and forced himself to examine the wall above the window.
“Well?” he heard Malfoy ask.
“I’m trying, but…nothing’s happening,” Hermione responded worriedly.
Harry could feel his irritation starting to grow and decided it was from being in such close proximity to Malfoy and not because his friends took stupid pills before coming up with this asinine scheme of theirs.
“Granger, I swear to Mordred and Merlin that if you don’t get us out of here right now, I’ll see to it that your status as Head Girl gets revoked.”
Harry snorted and brought his gaze back down. “Going to storm Dumbledore’s office with no trousers, are you?”
Malfoy turned and shot Harry the dirtiest look he could muster before stomping off to get dressed, leaving Harry with plenty of room to step up to the window and privately converse with his fellow housemates.
“Are you really all right?” Ron asked quietly as Hermione began to pace. “I feel like such a prat for tricking you into this.”
“It’s fine,” Harry lied, flashing a small, reassuring smile. “I haven’t killed him yet, so I’m sure that counts for something.”
As if in response to his comment, Hermione shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she muttered. “If everyone here wants a door to appear, then why isn’t one…”
“Maybe…a house elf is stopping you?” Ron suggested, looking a bit sheepish when his friends both gave him odd stares.
“A house elf?” Hermione repeated, as if making sure she heard right.
“Yeah!” Ron turned to Harry. “Remember? In our second year, Dobby blocked the entrance to Platform 9 ¾,” he said eagerly. “So who’s to say a house elf isn’t trying to be ‘helpful’ now?”
“By keeping me locked in a room with Draco Malfoy?” Harry asked dubiously.
Ron shrugged. “I don’t know…maybe its You-Know-Who’s house elf, and it’s just following orders or something. You know, infiltrating Hogwarts, working with the other elves, slowly poisoning their simple minds to sabotage us all.” Ron’s eyes darted up and down the hall, spooked by his own words.
“By keeping me locked in a room with Draco Malfoy?” Harry’s tone didn’t change.
“Ron.” Hermione reached up and gave Ron’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “You are so cute sometimes.”
As Ron’s face flushed at a disturbingly fast rate, Hermione turned to Harry and brushed the wrinkles out of the front of her robes, visibly collecting herself with the silent mantra of Don’t panic. There’s a logical explanation here somewhere.
“Tell me exactly what happened last night,” she ordered.
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before beginning his story. “I came down here like Ron had asked and found Malfoy instead. He tried to kick me out, but the door disappeared before I could leave. When we tried to make the door reappear, all we got was your indestructible tapestry instead.”
“Indestructible?” Hermione asked, picking up on the key word. “What do you mean?”
Harry shrugged. “Malfoy ripped it down and threw it in the fireplace, but a new one appeared in its place.”
“The exact same tapestry?”
“Yeah.” Harry watched Hermione for a moment, waiting for an indication to continue. But her eyes clearly showed she was deep in calculating mode and couldn’t be bothered. With a shrug, Harry decided to continue regardless.
“So…then we talked for a bit and Malfoy got mad that I ate his cookies…and then we fought over who got the bed and went to sleep.”
Hermione’s head snapped up. “You fought over…You guys didn’t even try, did you?”
“We did too! We ended up sharing the bed!” Ron gagged at this admission “And I…asked him what his favorite color was,” Harry finished lamely.
“What? How is knowing his favorite color supposed to help you reach a truce?” Hermione asked incredulously.
“Told you,” Malfoy sneered as he reappeared beside Harry, straightening his tie.
Harry rose to the bait without even missing a beat. “Has anyone ever told you how completely unhelpful you are?”
Malfoy’s eyes flashed. “I know this isn’t something you’re used to, Potter, but for once Granger isn’t the only smart one here.”
The small window began to shrink, much to Ron and Hermione’s alarm.
“Oh, please. Your father is the only reason you were given that Head Boy badge and you know it!”
The last thing head before the window closed up completely was the solid ‘thwack’ of fist meeting face.
Ron slowly turned to look at Hermione. “What have you done?”
Hermione’s eyes dropped to the floor, feeling properly abashed. “I…I think I may have made it impossible for them to escape unless they come to a truce,” she answered shakily.
“You think?” Ron demanded angrily, arm wildly gesturing to the wall behind him. “They’re certainly capable of doing enough damage to each other without having resort to murder! Why is there no escape clause for when it comes to that? What were you thinking?”
Hermione’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “I thought they’d be mature enough to handle something like this and -”
“Have you been keeping up with the number of detentions they’ve had this year?” Ron interrupted. “They’re obviously not even mature enough to ignore one another in the corridors!”
“I’m sorry, alright? It was wrong of me to do this! Wrong of me to-” Hermione sniffled, struggling to keep her composure, “-to assume the castle wouldn’t resort to these drastic measures to uphold what I wanted. I should have just kept my nose out of it, and instead I’ve gone and probably lost my best friend because I’m so stupid…”
Despite being somewhat used to seeing Hermione cry, Ron quickly pulled her into a close embrace to stop such a thing from happening. Seeing her sad made him feel miserable as well.
“Shh, that’s not true,” he spoke comfortingly. “We both know Harry’s not going to hate you for something like this.” A derisive snort sounded from below his shoulder. “I mean, he might be angry with you for a while, but he’s probably relying on you right now to figure out a way to get him out of this mess.”
Giving Ron a hug in thanks, Hermione pulled back and nodded. “You’re right,” she said softly, still refusing to meet Ron’s eyes. “We should go find Dumbledore. I’m sure he’ll know what to do.”
Ron nodded and they quietly headed off, the silence between them strained. Trying to think of a way to lighten the mood, Ron did his best to think of something clever and funny to say.
“So…d’you think it’s an improvement since neither of them thought to ask for their wands?”
Hermione burst into tears.
*
Harry frowned as he slowly came to, feeling a bit put off that only one eye seemed capable of opening. He was no stranger to waking up in pain, but this was a bit excessive. It felt as if someone were poking at all the bumps and bruises he had acquired during the fight. Merlin, didn’t Malfoy know when to quit?
Letting out a groan, Harry blinked as a blurry, misshapen head with large, batty ears appeared above him. A house elf?
For one crazy moment, the Gryffindor found himself believing that Ron’s theory was true. But then the face came into focus as it moved closer and Harry realized it was much, much worse.
“Harry Potter, sir?”
“Dobby,” Harry groaned out in greeting. “Dobby!” The house elf fell back with a startled yelp as Harry shot up into a sitting position. “You’re here! How did you get here? Take me with you!!” Harry immediately winced, a split lip immediately making itself known by his outburst.
Dobby didn’t respond to any of Harry’s pleas as he scrambled forward, fussing over the poorly-wrapped bandages that were already starting to unravel from Harry’s arm.
“Harry Potter should not be moving,” Dobby scolded as he jumped around the Gryffindor while holding one end of the bandages, effectively binding Harry’s arm against his side. “He is all covered in bumps and bruises…”
“I’ve had worse,” Harry dismissed, suppressing a groan as his chest protested his leaning forward so that he could use his free hand to unwrap his foot, which was one of the few parts of his body that had escaped any known damage.
“Stop that!” Dobby smacked Harry’s hand away and gasped at what he had done before punching himself in the head several times and continuing about his business.
Harry humored him long enough to spare a glance around the room to ensure there was still no door.
“Dobby, how did you get in?”
“Dobby is a house elf,” Dobby answered as if that explained everything.
Harry spent several seconds wracking his brain to try and decipher just what that meant. He knew house elves had powerful magic, so… “You can conjure doors?”
Dobby shook his head. “A house elf is not always needing doors to get places.”
With a frown, Harry recalled Dobby’s ability to Disapperate at the worst of times - even on Hogwarts grounds.
Looking over, he noticed Malfoy passed out cold on the couch and was successfully driven to distraction for the moment. He was fairly certain the idea to keep fighting until they knocked each other out occurred to the both of them at around the same time. The hope had been they would wake up in the hospital wing. Obviously things hadn’t worked out that way.
“Did he pass out there?” Harry’s memory was a little fuzzy. The last thing he clearly remembered was Malfoy’s face brightening with an idea before coming after him like a mad man. Luckily, Harry caught on quick enough to put up enough of a fight to be proud of before being knocked unconscious.
“No. Dobby put Master Draco there. Master Draco has a delicate disposition; Dobby remembers being told.” Finished with his wrapping, Dobby tucked the tip of the bandage away and set about straightening up the room. “He should not be tripping over toppled chairs and banging his head! It is not good for Master Draco’s health!”
Harry blinked as a vague memory of a foot to the solar plexus came to mind, followed by an inability to breathe and watching Malfoy stumble backwards, his arms reeling before darkness overtook him.
Shaking himself free of the memory, Harry snorted as the two chairs at the breakfast table were picked up. “Delicate disposition? Dobby, I know the Malfoys were your old masters, but the only think delicate about that git is his ego.”
As if on cue, they heard a soft rustling from the couch, causing Dobby to freeze and duck down behind the overturned table. When Malfoy showed no signs of waking, Dobby continued to dart about and pick up ruined dishes.
“Dobby once overhead that wizards with delicate egos have insecurities they is not liking the world to know about. Dobby later punished himself by sticking mud in his ears for eavesdropping.”
Harry opened his mouth, ready to ask what sort of insecurities Malfoy might have, but then thought better of it. Dobby was still in the habit of randomly punishing himself for doing anything his old masters would not have approved of, and Harry figured revealing their secrets fell under that category.
Figuring the least he could do was help Dobby, Harry struggled to stand, realizing as he did so that he was wrapped up like a mummy and had no way of moving his left arm thanks to it being bound tightly against his torso. He was pretty sure his arm was fine, but it was a bit hard to tell seeing as how it was numb.
As Harry did his best to pick the table back up with one hand - he was surprised it was still in one piece after the dive both he and Malfoy took over it - he noticed Dobby scooting away from him, opting to wipe away some blood stains while balancing the pile of plates in his arms rather than place them on the now-upright table. Harry’s brows furrowed at the odd behavior.
Normally, when visiting Dobby, or vice versa, Dobby gave Harry his full attention and would often beg Harry to stop helping, insisting he could handle his workload. But there he was, not only allowing Harry to help, but also not being his usual, chatty self. He even seemed to avoid the topic of helping Harry find a way out of the Room, despite surely knowing at least something about the predicament he was in.
Something was very obviously off, and Harry could only pray it had nothing to do with Voldemort acquiring house elves.
“Dobby,” Harry called, causing the house elf to look in his direction. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” Dobby replied, immediately looking back down at the stain he was working on. “Dinner was served several hours ago, but Dobby will make sure you both is getting something to eat.”
“Why can’t we just come down to the kitchens when we’re ready?” Harry asked, stepping forward.
An odd glance was sent in his direction. “Because you and Master Draco is stuck here.”
“But you’re here,” Harry pointed out. “So surely before you leave you can help us get out.”
Dobby froze, his eyes darting towards the smooth stone walls. “Dobby is a house elf and doesn’t-”
“I know that,” Harry interrupted. “But that’s not what I’m asking. Can you conjure us a doorway?”
He watched as Dobby began to jump from foot to foot in a nervous dance, looking very much like he was at war with himself.
“No!” Dobby finally blurted, immediately breaking a plate over his head.
“Ha! You can do it, can’t you!” Harry crowed in triumph, before jumping guiltily at Dobby’s loud wails of misery.
Hurrying forward, Harry took the rest of the dishes away to prevent any further injuries and winced in pain as he dropped to his knees.
“Dobby, listen. You have to get us out of here.”
Dobby shook his head, clutching his large ears in anxiety.
“Something’s gone wrong with this room. We figured we couldn’t get out at first because it was modeled to what Hermione wants, but then even she couldn’t get us out of here. But if you’re about to create a way out on your own…” Harry trailed off, hoping his expression came close to that of a pleading puppy, or whatever creature that would appeal to a house elf’s better nature.
“Do not ask it of Dobby, Harry Potter, sir, please, please, please do not,” Dobby moaned, his eyes screwed shut as he continued to shake his head.
“Why not?”
Rather than answer, Dobby continued to shuffle back and forth, looking fully ready to run at a moment’s notice. Harry grabbed his arm to prevent such an escape and repeated his question.
“Why not? Is someone stopping you? Is there someone bad controlling you? Can I help?”
Rubbing his fists over his temples, Dobby shook his head. “No, no, no, no. None of that.”
“Then what?” Harry asked.
“It is against Hogwarts’ wishes,” Dobby finally revealed while pulling the tips of his ears below his chin and tying them into a bow.
Harry blinked. “Against…”
More rustling sounded from the couch, this time followed by a moan. Startled, Harry turned around to see if Malfoy was waking, letting go of Dobby in the process. When he looked back, Dobby was gone.
Previous | Next
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A/N: I should probably say this now, but for a short while after this, it may feel like things are moving unrealistically fast (unless my lack of confidence in my writing ability for what I have plan is unfounded). Please trust me when I say that's not the case. The focus of the story is not them being trapped in the room forever.
Author: Reyn
Rating: M
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warnings: post-5th year, with disregard for books 6&7, later angst, slash
Disclaimer: I merely play and twist JK’s creations to my own liking. I don’t actually own anything other than the plot.
Summary: Locked away together by the very people they called friends, Harry and Draco must learn to overcome all petty differences when foreign feelings begin to fall into play.
Chapter Three
Harry woke to find the blanket gone and his fist buried in the pillow barrier. Surprisingly, he remembered where he was and what had transpired the night before, but in his freshly conscious state, he didn’t really care. He needed to go to the loo and that took priority over everything else at the moment.
Rolling out of bed, Harry blindly groped around his pile of clothes for his glasses. Once found, he slipped them on and rose to his knees to make sure nothing had changed.
Hermione’s tapestry - check. Fireplace with seating area - check. Still no door - check. Random bit of wall jutting out from a corner…that was new.
Pulling himself to his feet, Harry stumbled around the bed to go investigate the latest alteration the room had given them. The mound under the blanket on the other side of the bed gave a sudden start as Harry passed by and a sleep-ridden voice sounded.
“Wha’s..? Potter? What’re you…oh. Where are you going?”
Ignoring Malfoy, Harry peered around the short wall and found, to his immense relief, a toilet. As he stepped forward and unzipped his fly, another question floated his way.
“Is that a doo-?” Malfoy’s inquiry was both cut off and answered as the sound of urination echoed into the room. When it stopped, Malfoy’s voice rose. “You better not have just pissed in a corner.” The toilet flushed and no further inquiries were made.
Harry snickered to himself, feeling overly gleeful at managing to bring the Slytherin to silence in such a simple manner. Tucking himself back in, he moved to turn around, only to stop and stare.
A shower and sink had somehow appeared in the suddenly larger nook without his noticing.
Personal hygiene hadn’t been anywhere on his list of immediate concerns for the morning, and last he checked, the Room of Requirement wasn’t in the habit of producing things people weren’t aware they needed. Using his powers of deductive reasoning that he normally saved for when Voldemort was in the picture, Harry figured the room’s other occupant was direly wishing for a bath.
Reminding himself to thank Malfoy if they ever did make it to being on friendly terms, Harry promptly stripped down and stepped into the shower.
Normally, the Gryffindor was fast and efficient when bathing; a habit developed from Uncle Vernon’s constant complaints about the water bill. But today Harry decided upon a nice, long, hot shower, if only to avoid being within sight of Malfoy. He knew it was probably detrimental to whatever truce they were supposed to be working towards, but the way Harry saw it, as long as they avoided one another, fights wouldn’t happen.
Unfortunately, Harry realized his logic was flawed as he stepped out of the bathroom nearly thirty minutes later and discovered that Malfoy had managed to eat nearly all of the food that had appeared for breakfast in his absence.
“Enjoy your shower?” Malfoy sneered as he deliberately bumped Harry in passing.
Harry figured he deserved that. He provoked Malfoy by taking his own sweet time in what the Slytherin probably figured to be his shower, and Malfoy had retaliated by…eating everything.
Shaking his head, Harry approached the small breakfast table that was now located at the foot of the bed. For reasons beyond him, Gryffindors had always been stereotyped as having voracious appetites. It was pretty apparent Malfoy was trying to starve him out as a means of torture.
Grabbing a half-eaten muffin, Harry recalled a time during his second year when he and Ron had a sandwich eating contest just for the hell of it. That had been the first time Harry had truly eaten without inhibition and the contest had ended with him making a mad dash to the nearest broom closet where he was spectacularly sick.
Harry chuckled as he took a seat and bit into the muffin. Beneath that bravado of his, Malfoy’s stomach was probably killing him.
Scraping together remaining bits of bacon, crumbs of other pastry items, and whatever else he could find, Harry did his best to enjoy what he could for breakfast. He excluded the fruit - Malfoy had managed to sabotage what he couldn’t eat of that.
Harry wasn’t picky. Years of growing up on minimal amounts of food gave him plenty of time to realize that beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Munching loudly on a spoonful of dry cereal, Harry gave pause as he heard a sound that wasn’t coming from the shower. Looking around, he tried to see what else could possibly be making noise within the room. He heard the sound again and stood, determined to find its source.
Be a door. Please, please, please be a door, Harry silently begged as he quickly shoveled the rest of his food in his mouth and held it there, afraid that chewing would drown out the…he listened carefully…grinding stone?
Examining the walls, Harry nearly choked when he tried to give a shout of joy as a small hole began to appear. He could hear his name being called and he rushed over as the hole continued to open into a small window with bars.
“Harry? Harry!”
“Miomme!”
Hermione’s enthusiasm quickly diminished at the sight of food bits flying out of Harry’s mouth.
“Don’t.” A hand was held up to stop Harry from speaking any further. “Just chew and swallow your food first!” Hermione’s order ended in a squeak as she was unceremoniously pushed aside and Ron’s ginger head came into view.
“Harry! Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you too bad, did he? I swear this was all Hermione’s idea! She tricked me into it! With her devious - Hey, where is Malfoy anyways?” Ron fell silent long enough to examine what he could of the room. When he couldn’t spot any sign of a second body, his eyes widened. “You didn’t kill him did you? Merlin, Harry, I was worried something like this would…”
Mouth busily working on the particularly dry ingredients, Harry shook his head.
“He’s not dead?” Ron correctly interpreted. He let out a sigh and drew back from the window. “To be honest, I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed, mate,” he joked.
Harry rolled his eyes to show that the sentiment was the same.
“So…did he escape or something?”
Ron frowned at Harry’s thick “mnyo” and tried to come up with other reasons as to why Malfoy couldn’t be found as he waited for his friend to finish his food.
His mouth dropped open in fury as an idea occurred to him. “Don’t tell me he never showed up in the first place! Is this why we couldn’t get the door to appear? Because he locked you in??”
“My locking him in would require me showing up in the first place, idiot.”
Harry jumped, not having heard Malfoy approach. He then did a bit of a double take as he noticed that the paler man was not only missing his shirt, but the rest of his clothes as well. He was also soaking wet and had a towel wrapped so tightly around his waist that Harry could make out the tale tell bulge of his package.
Rather than comment, Harry quickly looked away, his face flushing.
“And the reason the door is gone,” Malfoy continued, failing to notice Harry’s reaction, “is because we still have yet to meet the Head Girl’s stipulations. Thanks, Granger.”
Hermione, who had been patiently standing by waiting for her two best friends to finish reuniting, blinked. “What? But the train’s leaving in thirty minutes!” she blurted.
“Oh? So sorry we’re failing to adhere to your time schedule,” Malfoy hissed as Harry finally swallowed his food and prayed for a bit of patience.
“Hermione, I know you mean well, but please don’t tell me you honestly expected friendship between us to just…blossom overnight,” Harry pleaded with a bit of exaggerated hand motioning.
“I wasn’t asking for friendship,” Hermione flustered. “I was asking for a stop to your constant fighting!”
“By locking us in a room together,” Malfoy helpfully pointed out. “Doesn’t that just make you the genius.”
“Shove it, Ferret,” Ron snapped, recognizing the growing look of guilt in Hermione’s eyes. “Mione, your idea was a great one, but we don’t have time for this. Just give them a door so we can catch the train and deal with their issues some other time.
Against his will, Harry bristled. “I don’t have issues!” His voice echoed with Malfoy’s causing Ron to give the both of them an exasperated look.
The next several seconds ticked by in strained silence as the boys waited for Hermione to undo whatever she had done to the Room of Requirement. Malfoy shuffled forward, eager to be the first one out despite his state of dress. This put him more directly in Harry’s line of sight, causing the Gryffindor to notice the way Malfoy’s back muscles subtly flexed as he shifted from foot to foot.
It’s just a phase, Harry told himself. You’re only noticing because of the way the light is glistening off the wet skin. Happens all the time in the showers. Why? Because shiny things attract attention…And I was a cat in a past life.
Harry audibly groaned at his train of thought and forced himself to examine the wall above the window.
“Well?” he heard Malfoy ask.
“I’m trying, but…nothing’s happening,” Hermione responded worriedly.
Harry could feel his irritation starting to grow and decided it was from being in such close proximity to Malfoy and not because his friends took stupid pills before coming up with this asinine scheme of theirs.
“Granger, I swear to Mordred and Merlin that if you don’t get us out of here right now, I’ll see to it that your status as Head Girl gets revoked.”
Harry snorted and brought his gaze back down. “Going to storm Dumbledore’s office with no trousers, are you?”
Malfoy turned and shot Harry the dirtiest look he could muster before stomping off to get dressed, leaving Harry with plenty of room to step up to the window and privately converse with his fellow housemates.
“Are you really all right?” Ron asked quietly as Hermione began to pace. “I feel like such a prat for tricking you into this.”
“It’s fine,” Harry lied, flashing a small, reassuring smile. “I haven’t killed him yet, so I’m sure that counts for something.”
As if in response to his comment, Hermione shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she muttered. “If everyone here wants a door to appear, then why isn’t one…”
“Maybe…a house elf is stopping you?” Ron suggested, looking a bit sheepish when his friends both gave him odd stares.
“A house elf?” Hermione repeated, as if making sure she heard right.
“Yeah!” Ron turned to Harry. “Remember? In our second year, Dobby blocked the entrance to Platform 9 ¾,” he said eagerly. “So who’s to say a house elf isn’t trying to be ‘helpful’ now?”
“By keeping me locked in a room with Draco Malfoy?” Harry asked dubiously.
Ron shrugged. “I don’t know…maybe its You-Know-Who’s house elf, and it’s just following orders or something. You know, infiltrating Hogwarts, working with the other elves, slowly poisoning their simple minds to sabotage us all.” Ron’s eyes darted up and down the hall, spooked by his own words.
“By keeping me locked in a room with Draco Malfoy?” Harry’s tone didn’t change.
“Ron.” Hermione reached up and gave Ron’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “You are so cute sometimes.”
As Ron’s face flushed at a disturbingly fast rate, Hermione turned to Harry and brushed the wrinkles out of the front of her robes, visibly collecting herself with the silent mantra of Don’t panic. There’s a logical explanation here somewhere.
“Tell me exactly what happened last night,” she ordered.
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before beginning his story. “I came down here like Ron had asked and found Malfoy instead. He tried to kick me out, but the door disappeared before I could leave. When we tried to make the door reappear, all we got was your indestructible tapestry instead.”
“Indestructible?” Hermione asked, picking up on the key word. “What do you mean?”
Harry shrugged. “Malfoy ripped it down and threw it in the fireplace, but a new one appeared in its place.”
“The exact same tapestry?”
“Yeah.” Harry watched Hermione for a moment, waiting for an indication to continue. But her eyes clearly showed she was deep in calculating mode and couldn’t be bothered. With a shrug, Harry decided to continue regardless.
“So…then we talked for a bit and Malfoy got mad that I ate his cookies…and then we fought over who got the bed and went to sleep.”
Hermione’s head snapped up. “You fought over…You guys didn’t even try, did you?”
“We did too! We ended up sharing the bed!” Ron gagged at this admission “And I…asked him what his favorite color was,” Harry finished lamely.
“What? How is knowing his favorite color supposed to help you reach a truce?” Hermione asked incredulously.
“Told you,” Malfoy sneered as he reappeared beside Harry, straightening his tie.
Harry rose to the bait without even missing a beat. “Has anyone ever told you how completely unhelpful you are?”
Malfoy’s eyes flashed. “I know this isn’t something you’re used to, Potter, but for once Granger isn’t the only smart one here.”
The small window began to shrink, much to Ron and Hermione’s alarm.
“Oh, please. Your father is the only reason you were given that Head Boy badge and you know it!”
The last thing head before the window closed up completely was the solid ‘thwack’ of fist meeting face.
Ron slowly turned to look at Hermione. “What have you done?”
Hermione’s eyes dropped to the floor, feeling properly abashed. “I…I think I may have made it impossible for them to escape unless they come to a truce,” she answered shakily.
“You think?” Ron demanded angrily, arm wildly gesturing to the wall behind him. “They’re certainly capable of doing enough damage to each other without having resort to murder! Why is there no escape clause for when it comes to that? What were you thinking?”
Hermione’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “I thought they’d be mature enough to handle something like this and -”
“Have you been keeping up with the number of detentions they’ve had this year?” Ron interrupted. “They’re obviously not even mature enough to ignore one another in the corridors!”
“I’m sorry, alright? It was wrong of me to do this! Wrong of me to-” Hermione sniffled, struggling to keep her composure, “-to assume the castle wouldn’t resort to these drastic measures to uphold what I wanted. I should have just kept my nose out of it, and instead I’ve gone and probably lost my best friend because I’m so stupid…”
Despite being somewhat used to seeing Hermione cry, Ron quickly pulled her into a close embrace to stop such a thing from happening. Seeing her sad made him feel miserable as well.
“Shh, that’s not true,” he spoke comfortingly. “We both know Harry’s not going to hate you for something like this.” A derisive snort sounded from below his shoulder. “I mean, he might be angry with you for a while, but he’s probably relying on you right now to figure out a way to get him out of this mess.”
Giving Ron a hug in thanks, Hermione pulled back and nodded. “You’re right,” she said softly, still refusing to meet Ron’s eyes. “We should go find Dumbledore. I’m sure he’ll know what to do.”
Ron nodded and they quietly headed off, the silence between them strained. Trying to think of a way to lighten the mood, Ron did his best to think of something clever and funny to say.
“So…d’you think it’s an improvement since neither of them thought to ask for their wands?”
Hermione burst into tears.
*
Harry frowned as he slowly came to, feeling a bit put off that only one eye seemed capable of opening. He was no stranger to waking up in pain, but this was a bit excessive. It felt as if someone were poking at all the bumps and bruises he had acquired during the fight. Merlin, didn’t Malfoy know when to quit?
Letting out a groan, Harry blinked as a blurry, misshapen head with large, batty ears appeared above him. A house elf?
For one crazy moment, the Gryffindor found himself believing that Ron’s theory was true. But then the face came into focus as it moved closer and Harry realized it was much, much worse.
“Harry Potter, sir?”
“Dobby,” Harry groaned out in greeting. “Dobby!” The house elf fell back with a startled yelp as Harry shot up into a sitting position. “You’re here! How did you get here? Take me with you!!” Harry immediately winced, a split lip immediately making itself known by his outburst.
Dobby didn’t respond to any of Harry’s pleas as he scrambled forward, fussing over the poorly-wrapped bandages that were already starting to unravel from Harry’s arm.
“Harry Potter should not be moving,” Dobby scolded as he jumped around the Gryffindor while holding one end of the bandages, effectively binding Harry’s arm against his side. “He is all covered in bumps and bruises…”
“I’ve had worse,” Harry dismissed, suppressing a groan as his chest protested his leaning forward so that he could use his free hand to unwrap his foot, which was one of the few parts of his body that had escaped any known damage.
“Stop that!” Dobby smacked Harry’s hand away and gasped at what he had done before punching himself in the head several times and continuing about his business.
Harry humored him long enough to spare a glance around the room to ensure there was still no door.
“Dobby, how did you get in?”
“Dobby is a house elf,” Dobby answered as if that explained everything.
Harry spent several seconds wracking his brain to try and decipher just what that meant. He knew house elves had powerful magic, so… “You can conjure doors?”
Dobby shook his head. “A house elf is not always needing doors to get places.”
With a frown, Harry recalled Dobby’s ability to Disapperate at the worst of times - even on Hogwarts grounds.
Looking over, he noticed Malfoy passed out cold on the couch and was successfully driven to distraction for the moment. He was fairly certain the idea to keep fighting until they knocked each other out occurred to the both of them at around the same time. The hope had been they would wake up in the hospital wing. Obviously things hadn’t worked out that way.
“Did he pass out there?” Harry’s memory was a little fuzzy. The last thing he clearly remembered was Malfoy’s face brightening with an idea before coming after him like a mad man. Luckily, Harry caught on quick enough to put up enough of a fight to be proud of before being knocked unconscious.
“No. Dobby put Master Draco there. Master Draco has a delicate disposition; Dobby remembers being told.” Finished with his wrapping, Dobby tucked the tip of the bandage away and set about straightening up the room. “He should not be tripping over toppled chairs and banging his head! It is not good for Master Draco’s health!”
Harry blinked as a vague memory of a foot to the solar plexus came to mind, followed by an inability to breathe and watching Malfoy stumble backwards, his arms reeling before darkness overtook him.
Shaking himself free of the memory, Harry snorted as the two chairs at the breakfast table were picked up. “Delicate disposition? Dobby, I know the Malfoys were your old masters, but the only think delicate about that git is his ego.”
As if on cue, they heard a soft rustling from the couch, causing Dobby to freeze and duck down behind the overturned table. When Malfoy showed no signs of waking, Dobby continued to dart about and pick up ruined dishes.
“Dobby once overhead that wizards with delicate egos have insecurities they is not liking the world to know about. Dobby later punished himself by sticking mud in his ears for eavesdropping.”
Harry opened his mouth, ready to ask what sort of insecurities Malfoy might have, but then thought better of it. Dobby was still in the habit of randomly punishing himself for doing anything his old masters would not have approved of, and Harry figured revealing their secrets fell under that category.
Figuring the least he could do was help Dobby, Harry struggled to stand, realizing as he did so that he was wrapped up like a mummy and had no way of moving his left arm thanks to it being bound tightly against his torso. He was pretty sure his arm was fine, but it was a bit hard to tell seeing as how it was numb.
As Harry did his best to pick the table back up with one hand - he was surprised it was still in one piece after the dive both he and Malfoy took over it - he noticed Dobby scooting away from him, opting to wipe away some blood stains while balancing the pile of plates in his arms rather than place them on the now-upright table. Harry’s brows furrowed at the odd behavior.
Normally, when visiting Dobby, or vice versa, Dobby gave Harry his full attention and would often beg Harry to stop helping, insisting he could handle his workload. But there he was, not only allowing Harry to help, but also not being his usual, chatty self. He even seemed to avoid the topic of helping Harry find a way out of the Room, despite surely knowing at least something about the predicament he was in.
Something was very obviously off, and Harry could only pray it had nothing to do with Voldemort acquiring house elves.
“Dobby,” Harry called, causing the house elf to look in his direction. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” Dobby replied, immediately looking back down at the stain he was working on. “Dinner was served several hours ago, but Dobby will make sure you both is getting something to eat.”
“Why can’t we just come down to the kitchens when we’re ready?” Harry asked, stepping forward.
An odd glance was sent in his direction. “Because you and Master Draco is stuck here.”
“But you’re here,” Harry pointed out. “So surely before you leave you can help us get out.”
Dobby froze, his eyes darting towards the smooth stone walls. “Dobby is a house elf and doesn’t-”
“I know that,” Harry interrupted. “But that’s not what I’m asking. Can you conjure us a doorway?”
He watched as Dobby began to jump from foot to foot in a nervous dance, looking very much like he was at war with himself.
“No!” Dobby finally blurted, immediately breaking a plate over his head.
“Ha! You can do it, can’t you!” Harry crowed in triumph, before jumping guiltily at Dobby’s loud wails of misery.
Hurrying forward, Harry took the rest of the dishes away to prevent any further injuries and winced in pain as he dropped to his knees.
“Dobby, listen. You have to get us out of here.”
Dobby shook his head, clutching his large ears in anxiety.
“Something’s gone wrong with this room. We figured we couldn’t get out at first because it was modeled to what Hermione wants, but then even she couldn’t get us out of here. But if you’re about to create a way out on your own…” Harry trailed off, hoping his expression came close to that of a pleading puppy, or whatever creature that would appeal to a house elf’s better nature.
“Do not ask it of Dobby, Harry Potter, sir, please, please, please do not,” Dobby moaned, his eyes screwed shut as he continued to shake his head.
“Why not?”
Rather than answer, Dobby continued to shuffle back and forth, looking fully ready to run at a moment’s notice. Harry grabbed his arm to prevent such an escape and repeated his question.
“Why not? Is someone stopping you? Is there someone bad controlling you? Can I help?”
Rubbing his fists over his temples, Dobby shook his head. “No, no, no, no. None of that.”
“Then what?” Harry asked.
“It is against Hogwarts’ wishes,” Dobby finally revealed while pulling the tips of his ears below his chin and tying them into a bow.
Harry blinked. “Against…”
More rustling sounded from the couch, this time followed by a moan. Startled, Harry turned around to see if Malfoy was waking, letting go of Dobby in the process. When he looked back, Dobby was gone.
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A/N: I should probably say this now, but for a short while after this, it may feel like things are moving unrealistically fast (unless my lack of confidence in my writing ability for what I have plan is unfounded). Please trust me when I say that's not the case. The focus of the story is not them being trapped in the room forever.