Harry Potter and the Second Prophecy

Chapter 16 - The Room of Requirement

Much like when they had first kissed, Harry noticed that Camilia was adept at pretending nothing had happened. No one would have guessed that the two had slept together the night before, and no one would have guessed that they continued to sleep together, almost nightly, for the next three weeks.

They agreed that their lives would not change to accommodate their intimacy, and so Harry continued to date Ginny and Camilia continued to date Malfoy, explaining first to Harry that, after discovering Malfoy was aware of Harry's invisibility cloak, she had decided Malfoy couldn't be trusted, but it was for that same reason - that Malfoy couldn't be trusted - that Camilia insisted she stay with him. She had had to admit that she had made a poor choice of boyfriends, but, because of her precarious situation, she felt stuck with that choice until Malfoy did something so horrendous that she would have an excuse to be rid of him. He had, after all, been nothing but a gentleman to her since his slur ages ago in the entryway of the school, regardless of his previous treatment of her friends.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in Herbology when Camilia first seemed to warm up to them, and soon, though cautiously, Ron and Hermione had accepted her back into their circle. One Saturday evening, she even sat with them at dinner, to the great dismay of Malfoy, who pulled her aside after the meal.

"What, I'm not good enough for you now?" he teased, but he made it clear that he was only half-teasing.

Camilia smiled, act as though she hadn't noticed he was partly serious. "Well, you know, you are a Slytherin," she replied, smirking.

"So?"

"So, I've got to at least make an effort at getting along with my own House, don't I?" She squeezed his arm, kissed him on the cheek to let him know everything was all right between them, and accepted his invitation to wander the grounds until the sun set.

Harry was having some difficulty not feeling a hint of jealousy each time he saw Camilia and Malfoy disappear somewhere together. He decided each time that it didn't bother him, and each time, became all the more passionate and fervent in the bedroom.

Camilia was having difficulties herself; she cared very much for Harry, but felt that her place in the magical world was at odds with his, and wanted to protect him from her. At the same time, she has losing interesting in making out with Malfoy, particularly as she could have been spending that time with Harry.

Malfoy noticed that something was different between them, and decided it was time to focus completely on his task. They had only three weeks left before school would be out for the summer, and with Camilia apparently dividing her attentions, time was running out.

That night, after he had returned to his common room from spending time in Camilia's company, he summoned his father in the fireplace.

"Do it," his father said, and that was all he required. He brought out the item he would need from his bedroom, placed it very carefully into his knapsack, and snuck off to the Room of Requirement. When it was placed and he had returned to the Slytherin Common Room, he wrenched a piece of parchment and a quill away from a third year, and began to write a brief and menacing message to one Mr. Harry Potter, Gryffindor Tower.

* * * * * * * *

Sunday dawned brilliantly at Hogwarts. The sun rose above the castle, its light dappling the floor of Harry's room through the arrow slits in the tower. Camilia crept silently from Harry's bed, tiptoeing across the room, and slipping through the door without ever making a sound. She had kissed him gently as he slept and then scrambled back to her room.

About five minutes later, Hermione made the same escape, though she had exited Ron's bed.

The day was lazy; Camilia had told Malfoy that the Gryffindors had a Herbology project to work on, so she wouldn't be able to spend time with him until later that evening. Malfoy had only halfheartedly argued, knowing he would need time to set things in motion.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Camilia found themselves in the Gryffindor Common Room after breakfast with nothing to do but lounge in front of the fire and chat the day away. They cracked jokes, teased one another, talked about all things meaningless, and a few things serious, but mostly, they just wasted the day in peaceful contentment. Hermione did no studying, Ron said nothing the whole day to Harry about his sister, Harry chose not to stress over Voldemort's plots and whereabouts, and Camilia abandoned her usual sarcasm. Harry could not remember a day with his best friends having been this good in a very long time.

Long about the middle of the afternoon, Dean approached, and Harry felt the muscles in his stomach lock. The group held their breath, waiting for whatever Dean had to say to be said. He turned to Camilia and, without looking at her, asked if she had a second. She glanced quickly at her friends, looked up at Dean, and said, "Uh, sure, Dean, no problem." She stood quickly and walked with him to the other side of the room.

"Wish I had some of Fred and George's extendable ears right now," muttered Ron.

Harry and Hermione, striving to listen in themselves, nodded in accord.

It was only a moment later that Dean clapped Camilia on the shoulder, and the two parted.

Camilia resumed her seat and sat silently for a few minutes, the others staring at her. Finally, Hermione could stand it no longer. "So?" she queried.

"Sorry...I was just wondering who was going to ask first, and I was right," she giggled.

"Okay, then, you were right. Now, tell us," badgered Hermione.

"He apologized," replied Camilia.

"What?" gasped Ron in total disbelief.

"That's what I said...I said, 'What do you have to apologize for?' and he was like, 'Malfoy said it, not you, so I shouldn't have gone on the way I did. Especially about your family. You don't have any control over them, just like I don't have any control over my parentage. Not that I'm not proud of them, you see,' and that was where I cut him off. I told him I was the one who needed to apologize, not him, so, basically, I did. He said all was forgiven, and, well, we just left it that way," concluded Camilia.

"Wow," sighed Ron. "Good man. Though I have to admit, I was rather hoping for a fight..." The foursome laughed and continued on with their ramblings until dinner, when they traveled as a group down to the Great Hall and took their usual spots on the benches at the Gryffindor table.

Malfoy watched carefully from across the room, knowing what he would have to do just a few hours from now; his teeth were clenched to keep them from chattering, and though his appetite had vanished the day before, he felt miserably nauseous. He wondered how it would all play out; if things would go according to plan, if Potter would take the bait, and if Camilia...oh, God, Camilia...even Malfoy struggled with doing this to her, but the consequences were not his to worry about. He had to make this work; that was to be his focus. Glory awaited him, power awaited him, but mostly his master's approval awaited him. He braced himself for the task at hand, rose from the Slytherin table, and made his way quietly to the owlery.

Dinner was almost entirely uneventful, with the exception of Dumbledore catching Harry's eye halfway through. Camilia hadn't spoken to Dumbledore in months, and refused to attend lessons with him, though the invitations kept coming. He never bothered her, never demanded she appear, only continued to send the occasional owl to remind her of her Wednesday night lessons. When Harry looked to Dumbledore now, he appeared sad and tired, and seemed to express in that one look his hope that Harry would somehow be Camilia's strength, as he no longer could be. Harry turned back to his friends, feeling both anguished and hopeful at the same time.

When dinner ended, the four returned to their common room, and Camilia went upstairs to change into something more suitable for the time she would soon be spending with Malfoy, and also to apply a bit of Muggle make up. She had never mastered the art of apply make up by magic because she had never taken the time to practice any spells that were not extreme in their outcome. When she reappeared in the common room, Harry could not help but notice how ravishing she was.

"Going to go waste all that on Malfoy, are you?" he teased her. Ron and Hermione looked at him, confused that he would make such a comment to her, but Camilia only shrugged.

"You just want me," she replied cavalierly, and sauntered out the portrait hole, her hips swaying a bit more than usual as she walked.

Ron stared at his friend. "What was that about?" he asked Harry.

"Just messing with her, mate," smiled Harry in return.

"Sure," Hermione retorted, her right eyebrow raised.

"Right, mate," replied Ron, leaning against Hermione.

A wide grin spread across Harry's face. "What?" he asked, and then leaned back on the couch in front of the fire, and proceeded to rest his eyes.

He wasn't sure whether or not he'd fallen asleep - whether it had been just a minute or perhaps twenty - when an owl flew in a nearby window and landed haphazardly on Harry's lap. Its claws sunk into his thighs, and he jolted awake. Ron and Hermione laughed, and Harry fumbled with the string that tied the parchment to the bird's left leg. The look on his face when he had finished reading the note caused both Ron and Hermione to cease their laughter.

"Harry?" Ron asked.

"I have to get my wand!" yelled Harry, already on the move and halfway up the stairs to his room.

The message, which he'd stuffed into his pocket, had chilled him to the bone. The words flashed across his eyes as he grabbed his wand from off the dresser:

If you want to see Camilia alive again, meet me in the Room of Requirement in exactly five minutes. Tell no one and bring nothing, or she dies at my hands the moment you appear.

Do not doubt my sincerity in the matter.

Yours truly,

Draco Malfoy

P.S. I know what you've been doing.

Harry had his wand in his hand, and was madly attempting to conceal it in his pocket and he raced toward the portrait hole, ignoring the concerned pleas of his friends to slow down and explain himself. He raced blindly down the halls, full speed ahead, and by the time Ron and Hermione had climbed out of the portrait hole to track him down and follow after him, he was gone.

* * * * * * * *

Camilia was stunned when she walked into the Room of Requirement; it now resembled a very regal bedroom with a large four poster bed, heavy draperies, a mammoth fireplace, and elegant décor. There were paintings on the walls, antique furniture adorning the room, and trinkets everywhere, from items on the mantle to a fireplace stoking set on the edge of a plush carpet, to a golden candlestick on a curio table near the door, and a delicate crystal chandelier as the room's crowning jewel. The coverlet on the bed was made of heavy, blood-red velvet edged in red and gold rope. "Wow, Draco," stammered Camilia. "Gryffindor colors, huh?"

Malfoy smiled innocently. "I thought that would be your preference, you see," he shrugged.

She turned to face him. "You put a lot of time and thought into this didn't you?" she asked.

"You have no idea."

Camilia walked to the bed, and Malfoy closed the door behind them. She brushed her hand over the thick velvet of the coverlet, and then looked at Malfoy. "We've talked about this, Draco. I'm still not ready."

His eyes bore into hers. "Still? Well, so be it. We can just enjoy one another's company. I wouldn't dream of asking you to do something you wouldn't want to. But we've done plenty of things already; we'll just have to revisit some of those. Wouldn't want all this to go to waste, you know."

Camilia took a deep breath. "No," she heard herself say, "we certainly wouldn't want to waste it."

Malfoy approached her; he had very little time, he knew, and had to make sure things were perfect for Potter. He shoved her backward onto the bed, hard, and when she asked if he thought he wasn't being just a little rough, his response was to tear the shirt from off her body. He immediately climbed onto her, and he had her jeans, shoes, and socks off a moment later. He held her down then, allowing his hands to roam all over her underwear-clad body, and kissed her deeply. Thinking of Harry, she permitted Malfoy to touch her, hoping he'd be done quickly, but realizing that Malfoy hadn't even begun to remove his own clothes yet.

As quickly as he'd begun to molest her, he had ceased. He climbed first off Camilia, and then off the bed, at which point he leaned back against the fireplace and folded his arm, leering at her. "Take off your brassiere for me," he ordered, "and do it slowly." Camilia did as she was told, standing in the center of the bed and leisurely striping the brassiere from off her body. Malfoy appeared pleased. "Now turn around for me. I want to look at you."

She began to turn, and right about the time she came full circle, the door to the Room of Requirement burst open. Standing there was Harry Potter.

"Harry!" she squealed, trying to cover up. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" said Malfoy, smirking. "I invited him."