The Room

I remember the way it was in the beginning. It didn't matter that I was Harry Potter and he was Draco Malfoy. Neither of us cared that we were on opposite sides of the war. Who cared that we were both boys? We both needed this. We needed to escape. Life on the outside had become unbearable for the both of us.

We sat there, on opposite sides of the couch that was in the middle of the room. Neither of us spoke. We were both content in the presence of one another and the silence. Occasionally one of us would glance at the other, or run our fingers up our arms. Every once in a while we would sit next to each other and examine each others arms, we let each other into our own personal torments.

This was the room that we had first met. Of course we had already met, but this was where we began to understand one another. I remember I was having yet another bad day and I came in here hoping for some solitude. I had done this many times since term started two months ago. It was the only place I could think.

I walked into the room, and much to my surprise I saw him there. He had the sleeve of his robes up and he was watching the blood trickle down his arm. I'm sure he didn't even notice I was there. I walked up to him, and he looked up at me. He just stared, looking neither angry nor sad, just surprised. I picked up his knife, and pulled up my own sleeve. Then, I put the blade to my skin and pressed down, creating a new line amongst the other scars.

Afterwords, we both just sat there, much like we are doing now: unsure of what to say or how to act.

***

I remember when I first saw him there. I looked up ignoring the blood running down my arm. He looked shocked, put he quickly understood. He took my knife and cut himself, without even bothering to clean it. I saw his other scars, they were worse than mine. There were so many of them: all criss-crossed over one another, creating an intricate pattern of torment.

***

Both boys were similar. They were born into positions that left little free will to follow there own paths. They have both suffered immense losses, recently even. They both dealt with their problems in harmful ways whether it's with cutting, alcohol or drugs. They never spoke, hell they barely acknowledged each other's presence. They just sat there, absorbed in their thoughts occasionally sharing a knife, bottle of firewiskey or even a joint or two. It's gone on this way for nearly two weeks.

Today started out much the same as all the others. Unable to sleep, both boys stumbled out of bed before dawn and made there way to the Room of Requirement. Harry arrived first, so he settled down on the small couch in the center of the dark room. The nearly black walls were bare and the only décor was a small rug. The only light came from a silver chandelier hanging just above him.

Draco came in and suprisingly the room stayed exactly how it was. Its contents usually changed according to the needs of the user. This time, it happened to suit both of them. The darkness suited them both perfectly.

Draco saw Harry sit there and he felt his stomach flip. His feelings for him had changed so much in the past few weeks. Before, he wanted to hurt Harry so badly that he had to avoid looking at him. Now though, he just didn't know. He wanted to hold Harry. Let him know he was not alone. He knew this was an amazing switch in feelings, but he couldn't control that.

A friendship outside of this room was impossible for them. It could never work. They were on opposite sides. One was chosen to save them all and the other the son of one of the most notorious death eaters. People expectations would be too great. Nothing ever came easy for Draco. He wanted to be left alone. He didn't want to be in the war at all. He felt as if he were falling into the depths of mania. All of these thoughts consumed Draco like a fire in the centre of his heart. He felt like he was screaming at the top of his lungs, and yet no sound came out of him.

***

Harry looked up at Draco and saw the pain in his eyes. A tear surfaced out of the icy blueness and fell down his face. He got up and walked over to the Slytherin and wiped the tear away. They both just stood there lost in the touch, as short and unobtrusive as it was. They were inches apart and had never been this close...ever. For a split second, a completely crazy thought popped into Harry's head. He wanted to kiss Malfoy: The person whom had caused much pain to most of his friends over the years. It was crazy and yet it made so much sense. Before he knew what was happening, he had closed the gap. He leaned over and lightly touched Draco's lips with his own. A bolt of electricity shot through him. He felt more alive than he had ever felt in his life.

Draco pulled him closer and began to kiss him back harder and fiercer than he had ever thought possible. He ran his tongue over Harry's teeth and had the same done to him in return. They explored each others mouths as if they had waited a lifetime to do so and would wait even longer before they could do it again.

Harry ran his hands down Draco's back and placed them firmly on his arse, pulling Draco even closer than they already were. It seemed impossible to get any closer. Their firms were grinding into each other and the sensation was breathtaking. They separated immediately, finally realising what was going on and what they just did.

They just stood there staring at one another realization dawning on the both of them. They did not do what they just did. It was crazy, inconceivable. Yet, Harry had never felt so peaceful, not even after cutting. It was all very confusing. He turned and ran straight out of the room, leaving an equally confused Draco behind.

***

He was running with no recollection of where he was going. He couldn't believe what he just did. He felt like he was going mad. Why did he do it? It made absolutely no sense. He found himself outside near the forest. He ran still paying no attention to the branches tearing away at his robes or the path that had long since disappeared. As he began to feel ill he came up to a clearing. He fell to his knees and cried out to the wilderness. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife. It was the same knife that he and Draco always used. Both of there blood was stained onto it. He pulled up his sleeve and looked down. Scars of varying depth and age were crossed over each other, creating a web of endless pain and misery. So many terrible memories... so much death. Wherever he went, death followed. He was the cause of it all. Sirius, Cedric, his parents and the Longbottoms would all be alive or sane if it wasn't for him.

Harry slashed his arm in several lines: blood was trickling out and covering his arm. He looked at his wrist and put the blade to it. It wouldn't take much to end it all. He pushed down... just a little further and it would all be over. He wouldn't be the cause of anymore death and destruction. He took away the blade... he couldn't go that far... yet. He watched the blood flow and the pain ebbed away from him. He was consumed in watching the crimson liquid on his pale skin.

He was beginning to feel dizzy. The blood would stop flowing. He took off his robes and wrapped them around his arm, trying to make it stop. He was scared... it wasn't supposed to feel this way. He didn't want to die. He began running again, back the way he came. Blood soaked his robes and sputtered out onto the ground and his legs as he ran. He was nearing the edge of the forest. The lake was within view. He ran towards it with every last bit of energy he had. His vision was getting blurry, and he couldn't run straight anymore. When he reached the lake he took away his blood stained robes and thrust his throbbing arm into the water trying to make it stop. Everything started going black and he hardly knew where he was. No longer able to stay conscious, he fell forward.