the room of requirements

Headcanon: Like Salazar Slytherin, each founder had a hidden chamber. Godric Gryffindor made a training room full of magical weapons, only to be opened by a true Gryffindor. Rowena Ravenclaw made a library full of every book ever written, muggle and magical, updating every day, only to be opened by those who trukly crave knowledge. Helga Hufflepuff made a simple room, made to cater to the needs of anyone who needed it. To this day, it is known as the Room of Requirement.

5

   “Dobby heard tell of it from the other house-elves when he came to Hogwarts, sir. It is known to us as the Come and Go Room, sir, or else as the Room of Requirement!” 
   “Why?” said Harry curiously. 
   “Because it is a room that a person can only enter,” said Dobby seriously, “when they have a real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped to the seeker’s needs.”

The day after the battle, Hermione Granger got up before the sun did. The Lake was covered in fog, and she was used to having somewhere urgent to go, to be, to fight. 

She closed the tent flap up behind her. Hogwarts had something like enough beds, but Hermione hadn’t had it in her to climb those moving staircases, to step through the painting’s open frame and make her way to the Gryffindor girls’ seventh year dormitory. Her bed would have been there, months untouched except for the bras and scarves and bottles of sparkly purple nail polish Parvati and Lavender had strewn onto every open surface. 

The fog rolled in off the Lake and Hermione stood at the damp shore and shivered until the sun rose and burned it all away. 


-


The day after the battle, they buried their dead out on an island in the Lake, the day after the battle. Madame Pomfrey fretted and hovered, but every injured witch, wizard, and squib made it out to those conjured chairs. They might sit with assistance– with spells, with braces, with a friend’s shoulder– but they sat quiet and they listened to Flitwick read out the names. 


-


The day after the battle, Ron Weasley stood on tiptoe when he stepped back into the Great Hall, looking over a sea of bent heads to find a cluster of red. They’d brought the tables back. 

The cluster was only a tiny blip of three– Bill and their parents were flitting about, helping Flitwick float steaming bowls of pasta down onto each table. But Ginny and Percy were sitting on either side of George, keeping up a lively conversation about Gilderoy Lockhart’s hair. 

Ginny was sitting half in Harry’s lap, like if she didn’t he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from getting up to help, or to pace the castle, or to walk out to the Forest and not come back. She was holding his hand, her freckled thumb running over the words written into his skin. 

Ron thought about sitting with Luna, instead. Percy tried to laugh at one of Ginny’s jokes, and Ron didn’t know how to be kind like that. Ginny held Harry’s hand. Ron had thought for a long terrible stretch of heartbeats that he had lost two brothers yesterday. 

He could sit with Dean. He could walk out to the Forest and punch Aragog in his ugly eyes, because normally when he walked away from everyone he loved it was because he was scared and maybe change was good for the soul. 

Ron pushed his hands through his hair. He crossed the Great Hall, swung into a seat next to Harry, and filled his plate with lukewarm pasta. 


-


The day after the battle, Luna Lovegood climbed up to the Astronomy Tower, because it was the furthest she could get away from everything. She laid on her back on the cold stone and cast balls of light and enchanted birds to chase each other across the ceiling until she felt like descending down to the ground again. 


-


The day after the battle, Neville Longbottom went down to the greenhouses to see what the damage was there. He had sat all night and all morning in the infirmary, fetching water for Anthony Goldstein and holding Dennis Creevey’s hand and folding extra blankets down over Professor Sprout’s cold feet. Madame Pomfrey had banished him to go get a spot to eat and some sleep, so he walked down to the greenhouses to see what was salvageable. 

Whole panes of greenish glass stood jagged and shattered. Protective spells had put out any fires, but stray blasts of magic had killed beds of vegetables and flowers and taken almost all the silver-green leaves off an olive tree that twisted in the corner of Greenhouse 4. 

Neville went in through the door, even though there as a broken hole in the glass wall big enough for him, and almost fell back through it when Hannah Abbott stood up from the row of pots she’d been crouching behind. Dirt streaked every crease of her hands. “Hey,” he said, and let the door click shut behind him. 

“Hey.” When she saw where he was heading, she added, “The olive’s still alive.”

The bark was rough under his hand, gnarled from decades of slow growth. He could hear the green magic whispering down its xylem. 

“I was thinking I’d try to mend up the walls, close this place up again,” said Hannah. “But I wasn’t sure I could do it alone." 

"Alright,” said Neville. When Professor Sprout argued her way out of the infirmary and thumped downhill with the wind throwing her cloudy hair in her face, she found every pane of glass healed and Neville and Hannah asleep on the softest patch of moss in Greenhouse 2.  


-


The day after the battle, Parvati Patil sent an owl to Lavender Brown’s parents. 


-


The day after the end of it all, Hermione skipped lunch and found her favorite secluded corner of the library instead. The chairs stood silent and sober, all gouged dark wood. The high windows threw light gleaming across the polished table, catching on the dust motes drifting through the air above it. 

She dumped her carry-all down on it and reached inside– up to her elbows, her shoulders. She tried not to feel like it was eating her alive and she pulled out protein bars and unicorn horn and crumpled wanted flyers. 

She wasn’t sure when it had gotten so cluttered– sometime before the night in the ditch outside the little Scottish village with the awesome curry shop. Sometime after the time they hid out from a storm in an unknowing Muggle’s barn, wrinkling their noses at the itch of hay as they ate their dinner. Hermione had taken first watch, listening to the thunder roll over the shallow hills outside, and she’d gone through her bag pouch by endless pouch. Harry had twitched in his sleep with every flash of lightning, but everything in her bag had been where it was supposed to be. 

She summoned a wastepaper bin to hover beside her and got to work. Quills and ballpoint pens went in a neat heap to her left. Books she stacked by subject matter around her, except for the ones she flew back to their homes on Hogwarts shelves. She checked potions ingredients for decay, tossed the bad ones and wrapped the good ones back up in their oiled cloth and ziplock bags. 

She ate a protein bar while she piled duct tape and the radio and a travel-sized magnetic foldable Muggle chess set and a depleted first aid kit all up around her. She threw the wrapper away and wondered if the smell would ever come out of the bag’s insides, or if she should just buy another one.  


-


The day after the battle, they started putting the stones of the castle back into place. They put bones back together, first, skin and knit muscle and tendons. McGonagall escorted every statue and suit of armor back to where it belonged. 

Sue Li sat atop a pile of rubble and ate the biggest chocolate bar she’d ever seen her life. She thought she could still taste a film of Polyjuice on her tongue, but she told herself that was dumb. She dropped little pebbles down the ragged tumble of stones, counting their bounces and calculating averages, until Astoria Greengrass showed up with a glass of water and a pasty and put them down beside her. 

Astoria got her hands dirty every chance she got, put her back into sweeping up glass shards or hauling bandages or Wingardium Leviosa-ing stone blocks the size of a horseless carriage. She would stay in the castle as long as she could, finding odd tasks and errands and corners to lurk in. When she finally went back to the Greengrass family estate, it would be to pack her bags, kiss the old house elf on the cheek, and steal her dog away with her. 


-


The day after the battle, Ron went out to Hagrid’s cabin in the stubborn chill of the afternoon and sat in his pumpkin patch. He didn’t go knock on the rough-hewn door, and Hagrid didn’t come out, but after twenty minutes Fang trotted into the yard and patiently got slobber all over his shirt. 

Ron watched the sway of the shadows beyond the Forest’s edge. Buckbeak’s old tying post stood among the twining squash vines and their giant fuzzy leaves, the metal ring hanging empty against weathered wood. He thought about Ginny brushing her thumb over Harry’s scars and wrapped 
his hands over the pale marks that curled around his wrists. 

When the air started biting and the sky started darkening, Ron pulled himself back to his feet and climbed up to the library. He had never lived there, never really liked its labyrinth of stacks and dusty air, but he knew the way there better than he knew the way to the Quidditch pitch or the Room of Requirement or all those other places he liked so much more. 

It was empty, except for Hermione, and he was glad. She squeezed her last book into her bag and looked up at him, shoving her hair back off her forehead. 

“They doing dinner down there?” she said, her dry throat rasping on it. 

He shrugged. “Mum’s organizing, I think. It– helps, I think." 

She nodded, looking down to do the clasps up slowly, one by one. 

"I just wanted to go back to the tent,” said Ron. “Be alone. It’s quiet." 

"I won’t get in your way,” she said. “It’s still pitched down there." 

"I know,” he said. “With you, I meant.”

“That’s not alone,” she said. “I’m not quiet,” she said. She clasped and unclasped the bag. 

“Words. Accuracy. I never claimed to be the clever one." 

"But you are, Ron–" 

"Hermione,” he said. “Come with me? You shouldn’t be sitting here alone. Come home.”

They went down the grass through chilling air. Ron could hear his mother in his head, telling him to take her bag and carry it for her, but he just reached out for her hand. 


-


The day after the end of it all, Ron laid on the floor of the tent, counting stitches in the canvas, while Hermione read Hogwarts, A History like she didn’t have it memorized. She read her favorite parts aloud, stopping mid-sentence when the tent flap rustled and opened. 

“Ginny’s sitting on Neville until he agrees to sleep in a real bed and not a pile of shrubbery,” Harry said, stepping inside and shutting it up behind him. “She got Luna to help because she says otherwise Luna will just fade into a corner and not come out for food.” He hunched his shoulders. “I’m not intruding, right?" 

"Don’t be daft,” said Ron and patted a bit of floor next to him. “C'mon, join in, Hermione’s trying to bore me to sleep. I suspect it’s an act of caring concern.” Hermione threw a pillow at his head without looking up from the pages.  

The day after the battle, they fell asleep in a tangle in the center of the tent that they had lugged across their country, across these long, cold days of the war. They had danced here to the radio, had chewed protein bars, played chess and bled and yelled at each other. 

But the war was over and they were growing into it, slow, staying up too late as they leaned into each other and whispered on this threadbare rug. They meant to wobble to their feet and get to bed, but Harry was clinging to Hermione’s hand and none of them wanted to go. 

They would get too old for this– hard floors and the way Harry’s neck was cricked up on Ron’s bony shoulder. Hermione’s snoring would get worse and Ron would have to sleep with four carefully arranged pillows to stop his back from aching in the mornings, but Harry would always have a place here. He had slept on Ron’s bedroom floor at fourteen, leaned on Hermione outside his parents’ broken home. 

In the weeks after the battle, Hermione would track down her parents and move back home, and they would all help the Weasleys rebuild the Burrow. Harry would move in Andromeda Tonks’s spare room. “We’re almost like family, after all,” she’d say briskly, shooing him into the house and showing him where she kept the tea, Teddy’s diapers, and the whiskey. They’d come for visits and talk through the night in each of those homes, curled up under Molly’s quilts or out on the Granger’s back porch swing or over fingers of firewhiskey with Andromeda. 

In the months after the war, he and Ron would get a flat while they went through Auror training and Hermione would crash there five nights out of seven. Her university textbooks would take over their countertops, shelves, tables, and floor and Harry wouldn’t tease them (too much) for how hilariously long they tried to pretend it was the couch Hermione slept on. 

Every home Ron and Hermione lived in, for the rest of their lives, would have a place for Harry– a spare room or a patch of floor or an old sofa. He would know how Hermione took her coffee, and his favorite cereal and Ginny’s favorite oatmeal would always been in the cupboard, and their children would have giggly cousin-sleepovers in magical tents they pitched on the living room rug. 

When the kids came shrieking in to wake them at absolutely unacceptable, ugly hours, Ginny would groan curse words they’d repeat gleefully among themselves, but Harry would let them grab his hands in their little sticky ones and pull him barefoot and messy-haired out into the morning.

Drarry Smut

Warnings/Information: Harry Potter, this takes place in Deathly Hallows (Part 2), is when Harry, Hermione, and Ron go in to look for Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem in the Room of Requirement and Draco and Crabbe and the other guy come in, modified canon stuff, mildly nonconsensual but also consensual idk?, Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter, gay shit, gay smut, two men doing sexual things, gay gay gay gay gay, kinda angsty/saddish at the end, and warning: IT’S LIKE, LONG, SO YEAH XD, also the indentation is fucked up because I copied and pasted it from Google Docs because I don’t trust Quotev not to delete my shit again.

FINAL WARNING: THIS IS SMUTTTTTTTTTT OKAYYYYYYY? OKAAAAAAAY.
Also I don’t own Harry Potter. Obviously. Or Drarry would be canon af.


An Even Exchange


Harry’s face lit up with a victorious smile as he fiddled with the diadem, caressing the metal and feeling his heart leap. He was now so close to being one step closer to killing Voldemort

Suddenly, he felt as though he, Ron, and Hermione weren’t alone anymore… He turned around, letting the diadem fall back into the box, and met Malfoy’s gaze.

“Well, well,” murmured the blonde. “What brings you here, Potter?”

Harry straightened himself up. “I could ask you the same,” he responded.

“You have something of mine,” Draco stated “I’d like it back”

“What’s wrong with the one you have?” Harry retorted passively, gesturing towards the wand Malfoy held in his hand, pointed at him.

“It’s my mother’s. Powerful… but it’s… not the same. Doesn’t quite… understand me. Know what I mean?” Draco’s words hit Harry deeper than Harry meant to let them go. His own wand had been splintered to pieces earlier in the year when Voldemort’s snake, Nagini, had attacked Hermione and him in Godric’s Hallow.

“Well too bad, Malfoy. I won it from you, so it’s only fair that I keep it,” Harry responded finally.

Malfoy’s face twisted into a frown, but then softened slightly, a smirk making his lips turn upward. “Fine then, Potter. I’ll just have to take something else.”

Harry laughed, amused. “What else could you possibly take, Malfoy?” The words slipped from his lips incredulously.

Malfoy didn’t respond. “Crabbe, Blaise! Get Granger and Weasley out of here.”

Almost instantly the four afore-mentioned people were fighting, shooting hexes and curses at each other. In the midst of all the chaos, Harry was caught by surprise as Draco quickly hexed him, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him away from his friends.

The moment Harry recovered from being stupefied he began struggling against Draco. “G-Get off me!” he growled.

“Accio wand,” Malfoy muttered.

Harry’s wand flew out of his pocket, into Malfoy’s awaiting hand, which tucked it into his pocket. Before he could protest, however, Malfoy was pushing him backwards. Harry landed on something soft: a bed. Wait. A bed? That surely hadn’t been there before. Why would a bed be in the Room of Requirement? There was no need for a bed…

And that’s when he looked up to see the smirk on Malfoy’s face. “I’ll just have to take you, Potter.”

Harry’s eyes widened at the dangerous implication the Slytherin’s words held.

“You don’t mean… Malfoy…!” Harry sputtered out the other’s name, his cheeks flushing rather quickly.

“Ah, shut it Potter, it’s not like you’ve never imagined this.”

Harry’s mouth opened, then shut. It wasn’t like he could deny it. He mustn’t tell lies, and to say that he’d never wanked off to Draco’s incredibly handsome face would be a complete and utter lie.

Malfoy was removing his shirt now, undoing his green tie and tossing it aside carelessly when it was loose. His other free hand held Potter’s wrists above his head. He was straddling Harry, his hips settled on top of the Gryffindor’s crotch and his legs keeping strong control over Harry’s ankles, making sure he wouldn’t kick.

All the while, Harry stared at Malfoy, unable to think straight. Draco’s elegant fingers popped open the buttons of his own shirt.

“Fulgari,” Draco murmured, pointing his wand at Harry’s wrists. Harry’s wrists were instantly bound in shining ropes, and now Malfoy was free to shrug off his shirt, throwing it to the right.

Harry jerked, his mind being yanked back to reality rather quickly as he heard some curses being shouted in the distance, Ron and Hermione’s voices standing out.

Before Harry could even turn to Draco to say something along the lines of ‘let me go!’, Draco had muttered a silencing charm, and all was quiet once more. Harry’s mouth opened, but then snapped shut as Draco’s nimble fingers skittered down Harry’s shirt, undoing buttons along the way.

“Malfoy, stop,” Harry hissed through his teeth as the large field of skin littered with bits of sparse, dark hair was exposed.

“Yeah? Why?” came the response. Draco’s fingers were twisting the hair gently

“B-Because,” was the half-assed answer.

Malfoy laughed, amused. “Yeah, right, Potter. Maybe if you had a good reason I’d actually give it a thought, eh?”

His fingers found Harry’s nipples, and now they were tormenting them, sending little sparks of something throughout Harry’s body. Harry bit his lip rather harshly.

“Scared, Potter? Scared of me defiling you?” He paused, his eyebrow quirking upwards. “Or perhaps, you’re scared of the noises you’ll make while I’m fucking you?”

It was a rhetorical question; Malfoy wasn’t seeking any answers. His words, however, had caused Harry to flush a deep red and bite his lip even harder as Draco dipped down to suck on one of Harry’s sensitive buds.

Harry’s head thudded back against the pillow. He was breathing too heavily, getting too caught up in the moment. Don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get hard, he repeated to himself in his mind, reciting the mantra but in vain. Don’t get hard, fuck, you’re getting hard, it’s failing, maybe he won’t notice…

Alas, but with Malfoy’s position on Harry, his hips perfectly aligned with the other’s hips, he could feel the way that Harry’s pants were tighter than they used to be, could feel the growing bulge. Harry glanced down at Malfoy, his breath hitching when he realized that the blond was smirking back up at him.

He didn’t even notice the way that Draco subtly scooted backwards, the way that his hand was snaking downwards at a rather alarming pace, until he felt the button on his pants be popped open.

“Merlin,” Harry whispered, the words almost coming out as a whine.

Next thing he knew, the zipper was coming down as well, and then in a blur his pants were gone. His maroon boxers were strained, and Harry panted slowly as he stared steadily up and nowhere else.

It was quiet for a moment, and so Harry gasped as his boxers were brought down sharply and quickly without any fair warning. He closed his eyes, his face scarlet, as waves of humiliation thrummed through him. He refused to look Malfoy in the eye while he was in such a vulnerable state.

“Want me to stop now, Potter? Because your prick says otherwise,” Malfoy’s voice rang out.

Harry trembled as Malfoy’s slightly cold, smooth hand wrapped around him, jerking him off at an agonistically slow pace. The brunette wanted to say that he wanted Draco to stop, he really did, except if he did, it would be a lie and both of them knew it.

The slow pace started gaining speed, getting a bit quicker, and Harry’s jerking breathing morphed into a series of breathy pants and gasps. “M-Merlin,” Harry whispered again, his hips moving against his will.

Then it all stopped, and Harry let out a whimper of disappointment without even realizing it.

“Look at me, Harry,” Draco demanded. Harry grit his teeth, his arousal spiking at the use of his first name. “Look at me,” he repeated when Harry shook his head adamantly.

“Harry, if you don’t look at me I’m not going to let you come,” Draco warned.

“Bloody hell,” Harry groaned quietly, slowly letting his eyes flutter open, meeting Malfoy’s grayish blue gaze with his own, greenish blue eyes.

“That’s a good lad,” Draco praised, his lips turning upwards in a smile.

Before Harry could come up with a retort, Draco’s lips were on his own. Harry’s mouth fell open in shock and Draco moaned softly as he shoved his tongue into Harry’s mouth. Harry was trying not to think about how good Malfoy’s lips felt against his own, of how soft his skin was and how wet his tongue was as it explored Harry’s awaiting cavern. It proved to be an impossible task.

He started gently and instinctively kissing back, a hint of shyness evident in the way he did so. His lips parted again as Malfoy’s hands snaked downwards again, once again taking hold of his erect cock and stroking it at a rhythmic, even pace.

Harry started succumbing to the pleasure, his hips thrusting upwards at an erratic pace with no rhythm at all, and he whined childishly as the touch slowed. He stopped though, when he saw that Malfoy’s hands had instead gone to his own pants, undoing the button and sighing in relief as the tension was lessened slightly. For the first time, Harry realized how tight Malfoy’s pants had been, and as Draco ditched the pants, his eyes traveled down the Slytherin’s body without being able to help it.

Potter’s trance was broken with Malfoy’s voice, causing him to start to attention. “Enjoying the view from down there, Potter?” he drawled, a hand slipping beneath the hem of his boxers.

He slid the boxers down confidently (or at least, if he had any worries he hid them quite well) and Harry knew that Malfoy was smirking down at him, reveling in the look on Harry’s face, but he didn’t care. All he knew was that Malfoy was hot. His cock wasn’t any less beautiful than the rest of his body, and it matched the rest of him beautifully.

Malfoy was a masterpiece.

All these romantic thoughts were thrown from his mind as he realized Malfoy had ducked down to start kissing at his chest again. He lingered a little at Harry’s nipples before licking and sucking and nipping his way up to the brunette’s neck and then stopped to loiter there. Harry let out a quiet sort of gasp which was magnified to a moan as Draco straddled Harry once more, his hips matching up with Harry’s and causing their cocks to slide against each other in the most pleasurable way.

Malfoy was unabashedly moaning, vibrations traveling up his neck. He bit down slightly, making Harry’s back arch in a painful pleasure, before Malfoy’s lips made their way up Harry’s jaw and finally landing at their destination on the other’s lips.

The feeling of Draco thrusting and rubbing against him while he pleasurably abused his lips with his own was incredible. Harry’s mind wasn’t sure where to go and what to think; all he knew was that this felt amazing.

He was so caught up in the pleasure that he didn’t even see the way one of Malfoy’s hands was caressing his thigh, dangerously traveling between his legs slowly. The feeling of a nimble finger prodding at his entrance was enough to jerk him back to reality, and Harry jolted backwards nervously. He glanced up at Malfoy, who had broken the kiss, and found himself oddly comforted by the gentle smile that the blonde was giving him.

“Don’t worry about it Potter, I’ll make you feel good…” the Slytherin murmured in a low, lusty tone.

This time, as Draco pushed a finger into him, Harry didn’t stop him. Instead, he took a deep breath and lay back, relaxing. The Gryffindor wasn’t exactly a complete stranger to this feeling. He had gotten a little curious a couple times, and it had just… happened, he supposed, while he was having a little time to himself. But someone else doing it? And Malfoy, for that matter? This felt completely different, and a lot more pleasurable…

Malfoy had added another finger, now scissoring them and curling them and stretching him in the most divine way, searching… searching for the spot that would make Potter see stars…

Harry’s back arched suddenly, and a rush of air escaped his lips, forming the word ‘Malfoy’ as he did so. Harry had tried, but never quite found, this place within him. And now that Draco had found it, he wasn’t stopping at relentlessly pressing up against it with, now, three fingers.

The brunette’s hips were thrusting forward, essentially doing the task of fucking himself upon Malfoy’s fingers. His head lay back against the pillow, his eyes closed in bliss.

But then his eyes flew open as the fingers left him. Malfoy wasn’t replacing them with something better, bigger, and Harry whined in protest.

“Merlin, please, M-Malfoy,” he panted, his hips left thrusting against air.

“Please what?” Draco responded oh-so innocently, a smirk playing at his dainty lips.

“Y-You know what,” Harry responded with a huff.

“Ah, but I can assure you that I don’t know what,” came the teasing reply.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the Gryffindor hissed.

“My, such language from the chosen one,” Malfoy smiled, running his fingers across Harry’s lips. “Beg for it, Potter.”

Harry’s lips set in a firm line, and he shook his head. His pride was so far gone at this point, but he still had a shred of self-respect and he did not want to beg for Malfoy’s cock. His beautiful, pale, hard, delicious…

“I want you,” he murmured weakly.

“Where?”

“In…. in me…”

“What in you?”

“Your… m-merlin, Draco, you know what I want!” Harry burst out, exasperated and embarrassed.

“Yes, but I’m not going to give it to you until you assure me that you want it,” Malfoy responded slyly.

“You can’t m-make me.”

The Slytherin hummed in response, his head lowering. Harry’s breath hitched: Draco’s lithe tongue had darted out and lapped up the pre-cum beading at the tip of Harry’s cock and was now forming little circles around the tip.

Sparks like electricity were rushing down to his groin, and his hips jerked upwards. Malfoy relaxed his throat, going down deeper on Harry, who let out a high-pitched whimper.

Harry was utterly defeated. Having Malfoy sucking him like so was heavenly, but Draco knew what Harry really wanted… to come with Malfoy inside him, filling him up and fucking him into the bed.

“Dracoooo,” he moaned.

“Hm?” came the response, sending vibrations through Harry’s cock and putting him near the edge.

“F-Fuck me! Please, merlin, fuck me… please, I want to c-come with you in me, please,” the brunette gasped, finally breaking.

Promptly Malfoy’s mouth was removed from Harry’s cock and the blonde was straddling Harry, spreading his legs and using one hand to guide his cock towards Harry’s entrance. The head of Draco nudged at the hole, causing Harry to let out a string of curses and whimper to Malfoy to “Just do it already”, to which Malfoy abided by quickly.

As the head breached Harry’s entrance, Harry struggled to keep his hips under control, knowing if he thrust himself towards Draco it’d be too fast and too big. The Gryffindor did, however, let out a strangled moan. He looked upwards, seeing Malfoy’s head tipped back in pleasure, his bleached hair falling in just the right positions, his eyes closed and his lip caught between his teeth as beads of sweat trickled down his body. Malfoy was the perfect picture of what pleasure looked like, and Harry’s eyes couldn’t help but to travel down his body, his mouth agape in awe of Draco’s beauty.

He let his hips move forward slowly, jolts of pleasure going straight for his cock as Malfoy filled him. He felt himself gradually opening up to welcome Draco’s hardness willingly. The pain was little, the pleasure vast, and he scooted forward more to fill himself up more, needing more of Malfoy in him. Then he slid back, letting instinct take over, and began fucking himself on Draco slowly at first, then faster. Malfoy let him do the work at first, partially unable to do anything for a moment as he was full of shock and intense pleasure, and then he started thrusting his hips into Harry. Both of them let out long-awaited groans and moans, their voices mingling into one. Harry’s fingers at first clenched the sheets, but then found comfort in holding onto Malfoy’s arms, which were planted on either side of Harry.

The Gryffindor hissed in unadulterated pleasure as the thrusts sped up steadily. Draco jerked, a strangled moan escaping his lips. Malfoy stopped abruptly, panting heavily and clearly trying to regain control of himself.

“Fuck, Harry, don’t d-do that…” he stuttered out.

Potter’s hips gently continued thrusting up against Draco, who whimpered in pleasure and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Do what…?” the brunette responded, mildly confused but smirking.

“The.. hissing…”

Oh. So Draco was affected by hissing, was he?

“So oh-so perfect Draco Malfoy has a weakness, hm?” Harry let the Parseltongue slither from his lips easily, and Draco positively mewled… Harry chuckled. “You don’t even know what I’m saying yet you’re still so affected… I could be reciting potions ingredients for all you know, yet you’d still be getting off…”

“H-Harry…! Stop, please… fuck, I’ll come…” Malfoy’s hips jerked and his body trembled, tensing.

Harry obliged, chuckling lowly. Malfoy’s eyes opened, a mild glare but much lust hidden within them. “How long has that been a thing?” he prompted, subtly drawing out his S’s.

“Since… s-second year…” came the reply.

Harry’s face turned a red comparable to the rubies within the hilt of Godric Gryffindor himself’s sword. “That long…?” he whispered, half to himself.

“F-Fuck off,” Malfoy growled.

Harry swiveled his hips, and the growl swiftly shifted into a whimper. Potter was in control, and both he and Draco were aware of this fact.

“Come on, don’t stop…” Harry hissed out, thrusting his hips so Malfoy would get the idea despite the fact that he didn’t verbally understand Harry’s words. “Fuck me!”

Oh, and Draco did. The thrusts sped up quickly and soon the air was filled with the moans and gasps of the two young men.

Harry’s head lay back, his calloused fingers grasping at Malfoy’s own delicate ones as he lay with his mouth open, eyes closed.

“H-Harry… Parseltongue…” Draco stuttered out in a whisper.

When Harry opened his eyes to gaze at Draco, his face was contorted with pleasure, his hair damp with sweat.

“Come for me, Malfoy…”

Malfoy whimpered and came, his hips jerking one last time as he panted heavily, his eyes closing.

When he’d come down from his high, he pulled out gently, before leaning down.

“You haven’t come,” he observed, watching as Harry touched himself, giving himself long strokes. “I’ll fix that, love…”

And Harry didn’t even have time to process the fact that Draco had just addressed him as ‘love’… ‘love’, for Merlin’s sake… because Draco was prying Harry’s hands from the unsatiated cock and replacing them with something better, more… His lips were opening…

Harry welcomed the familiar feeling of Draco sucking him, gasping but feeling terribly empty. Malfoy, thank Merlin, seemed to sense this by the way that Harry’s legs spread a bit, and started fingering him, massaging his prostate gently but just enough to make him see stars as he hit the edge.

“M-Malfoy…” Harry whispered as he came into the mouth that belonged to the name he’d just let loose from his own lips.

The blonde swallowed, licking his lips, before hastily casting the countercurse to undo the silvery ropes around Harry’s wrists, then laying down somewhat nervously beside the Gryffindor.

The two just lay there beside each other quietly, not exchanging any words.

For just having received the best sex of his life, Harry couldn’t help but feel a bit broken inside…

Malfoy and Harry were on opposite sides, you see… It was incredibly and painfully likely that this would only be a one time thing. Yet seeing as how this was the case, Harry didn’t get up and run off… this was why Harry was laying here, his hand now tracing Malfoy’s hand.

Just them.

Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy.

Sixth Year AU

In which Draco keeps disappearing into the Room of Requirement, but not to fix that dumb Vanishing Cabinet. So what is he doing in there? That’s what Harry would like to know!

He watches Draco, day after day, making his way to the Room of Requirement, carrying a bag. It drives Harry mad. He knows he can’t get in there, while Draco is in the room, so he waits after Draco has slipped out again. Harry stares at the wall and concentrates hard.

“Show me the room you become when Draco Malfoy goes in there.”

At first, he doesn’t think it’s working. But then, a door appears, and Harry’s heart beats faster. He yanks the door open impatiently and steps into… the Room of Hidden Things. Is Malfoy hiding something in here? Harry spends hours walking around, trying to find something that would look suspicious, until he finally gives up. He heads for the door again, when something catches his eye - his own name. It’s an article from the Daily Prophet, that’s peeking out from a big trunk.

Frowning, Harry opens the trunk. There’s not only one article in there, more like a hundred. There’s also lots of pictures of him, a stuffed teddy bear that has a lightning scar stitched on its forehead, some old quills and… is that a Remembrall? And is that a Gryffindor scarf? Harry remembers, he lost a scarf in fourth year, but… that can’t possibly be this scarf, can it? Except… there’s an old shirt Harry has been looking for for ages.

Heart pounding, Harry hurries out of the Room of Requirement. He has no idea what to make of this. He knows some people are obsessed with him, but this? This is a bit much! And he still hasn’t figured out what Malfoy is doing in there!

A few days later, Harry gets his answer. He’s under his invisibility cloak again, following Malfoy and Zabini. They’re chatting about something Pansy did yesterday. Apparently, it was rather scandalous. Harry’s heart stops, when Zabini suddenly says,

“So, you finally got rid of all your wanking material?”

Malfoy rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, Blaise.”

“Does this mean you’re finally done talking about him?”

Malfoy elbows him and Zabini snickers.

“One more thing, then everything will be locked away and gone for good,” Malfoy mutters and tells Zabini to go to the Great Hall without him.

Harry’s mind reels as he finally realises it’s Malfoy’s collection he discovered in the Room of Requirement. But why is he getting rid of it?

Harry’s brows knit together at his own thoughts. He has been worrying for days about the person who that collection belongs to. But now that he knows it’s Malfoy… it doesn’t feel that weird and creepy anymore. The only thing that concerns him, is why Malfoy is dumping this stuff in the Room of Hidden things.

Not thinking about consequences, Harry runs after Malfoy, pulls off his invisibility cloak and grabs his wrist. Malfoy startles and turns around. Gasping, he lets go of his bag, the contents spilling all over the floor. Harry can’t believe his eyes when his gaze falls upon several drawings. Of him.

“You drew me,” Harry says flatly. Malfoy doesn’t say anything. His wrist twitches in Harry’s grip.

“Why are you getting rid of it?” Harry murmurs, his eyes locking with Malfoy’s.

“What do you care?” Malfoy counters.

Harry thinks about it for a moment. Yes, why does he care? He can’t really find an answer and he doesn’t exactly understand it, he just… does.

“The Remembrall in there, it’s not… I mean… is it-”

“The one Longbottom thought he lost in first year?” Malfoy finishes for him.

Harry nods.

Draco lets out a sigh and closes his eyes.

“Yes, it is.”

Harry is pretty sure he should feel creeped out and weird again, but he feels excited instead.

“Why did you keep it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Malfoy mutters.

Harry steps closer to him and puts a finger under his chin. Malfoy gasps at the touch and blinks. Harry is overwhelmed by his own boldness, but it’s like his body is acting on its own.

“Tell me why you’re getting rid of all this stuff,” he whispers. Malfoy shudders and his eyes flick to Harry’s lips. His breathing is heavy and Harry faintly feels his pulse racing, as he moves his finger down Malfoy’s neck.

“What do you care?” Malfoy repeats. His gaze is still fixed on Harry’s lips, which sends weird little jolts down Harry’s chest.

“I don’t know,” Harry breathes. “I just… don’t want you to.”

Without warning, Malfoy closes the gap between them, his lips brushing over Harry’s. A shiver runs down Harry’s spine and his gut clenches. When he feels Malfoy’s arms circle his waist, he throws his own arms around Malfoy’s neck.

Harry doesn’t know how long they’re standing there and who starts making these obscene noises first. He is, however, rather irritated when they get interrupted by a loud groan.

“Potter,” somebody whines. Harry blinks and sees Zabini standing a few feet away from them. “I thought this whole thing would finally be over! Why did you have to go and snog him? Now he will never shut up about you!”

Malfoy blushes furiously as Harry’s booming laughter echoes off the walls.

“You know,” he says with a little smirk, “I think I’m rather good at shutting him up.” He winks at Zabini, before gripping onto Malfoy more tightly and giving him the snog of his life.

2

We were all looking for you. Is everything fine?
Yes, Helga. Everything is fine. I was just thinking of –new arrangements for the school.
Such as?
I don’t know yet but, I would like to create some kind of… room.

helga hufflepuff & salazar slytherin (fancast: holliday grainger and jude law)

Normal Horoscope:

Aries: The stars say the McRib will soon be back. The McRib wants revenge.

Taurus: All Tauruses are about 20% better at punching through brick walls than the other signs.

Gemini: Your collection of novelty stamped pennies is almost complete. The door to the Other Side will open as soon as you visit sea world in san diego.

Cancer: Laugh with the universe as you find your enemies impales on a wrought iron fence.

Leo: For safety reasons, all Leo’s will be required to announce their arrival in new rooms with a bugle. Bugles will be provided and can be located in the nearest ditch.

Virgo: Relax your shoulders. More.

Libra: Carpet armor is only effective against foot based attacks. You made a good choice, libra.

Scorpio: The stars say happiness will find you and hit you with a wrench until you tell them where the safe house is.

Ophiuchus: There are obstacles in your future. Literal hurdles. Hope you practiced your high jump.

Sagittarius: I could not receive todays fortune because the stars were making fart noises with their mouth and giggling.

Capricorn: A predator of sentient echoes lurks in the streets. Shut your ears.

Aquarius: Given other choices, your first car could have been an engine of war.

Pisces: Anything can become enchanted. Anything.

This is how escaping the Room of Requirement should've went
  • [Harry, after swooping in and getting Draco]
  • Draco: Can't this thing go any faster? I can feel the flames licking my heels.
  • Harry: I could toss off some non-essential weight.
  • Draco: Exactly! *looks around* Okay, so that was an insult. I get it.
Caught Flustered

Title: Caught Flustered

Warnings: Swear words and sexual themes

Summary: After Peters revenge he hears you in your room doing something naughty.

Part 1 Part 2

Peter laid in his bed with a smug grin on his face, he had successfully exacted his revenge on Y/N. He  couldn’t believe his own boldness.  Peter was never considered a suave guy with the ladies but he had managed to make Y/N a mess underneath him. 

He wondered if Y/N would be getting revenge or if this was the end of your game.  If you continued your game he was in a vulnerable place because his room was next to yours.  Normally he stayed at his apartment but training went late so he crashed in the room saved for him.  If you wanted you could come into his room and web him to his bed. That made him nervous so he decided to reach out further with his hearing.  He didn’t have super hearing put his powers had given him better senses than the average human. He didn’t usually eavesdrop on people because that can be a good way to ruin your birthday gift.

He tried to focus on your room to see if you were awake and plotting. It was silent except for deep breathing.  Peter sighed and was about to reel his hearing in when he heard a breathy moan.  Peter stilled, that couldn’t be what he thought it was, right?  He strained to try and hear better.

Moans again filled his ears. His eyes grew wide at the thought of what you could be doing in your room. His cheeks felt a rush of heat, maybe you were thinking of him. This made a throbbing pulse go through him.  Maybe you were finishing what he had started.  That made him blush harder, but that couldn’t be true.

Another moan brought him back and then- “Peter”

He jerked up in bed heart pounding.

“Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck.” He whispered as he paced around his room. He ran his hands down his face and then through his fair.

Not only were you probably doing very dirty things you were doing them thinking of him. His boxers suddenly became very tight. What was he supposed to do? Stay here and pretend this didn’t happen? Go over there and….. help you?

He gulped and tried to control his thoughts.  He groaned this was probably your revenge. You were doing this to him on purpose. He was not going to let you win, so he decided to storm over there and end this. One way or another.

He whipped open his door and stormed over to yours.  He didn’t even knock and threw open your door.  The sight that greeted him was a huge surprise.

You weren’t even awake, you were twisted in your sheets and small whimper sounds were being emitted. Peter smirked you were having a dirty dream about him. He could get a double dose of revenge if he played this right.

Peter coughed loudly and then called your name. You stirred and looked back at him “Darling if you wanted me that bad I’m right here no need for fantasies.”

You realized in that moment two things: one was that you were dreaming of doing some very naughty things to Spidey himself and two was that Peter Parker had caught you mid dream.

You had to play this right or you would never hear the end of it. “If by fantasies you mean me imagining how annoying you are then trust me I know your right there for the real life experience.” She tried to play off her dreaming.

Peter knew you were lying but that was okay with him. He knew this would end in his favor. “Well, in that case I leave with my annoyingness in tow.”  He turned around and pretended to leave.

“Wait, I didn’t say you had to leave.  Before the dream of you I, had… a bad dream.” You pretended to look scared and then patted the empty space next to you on the bed.

He smirked and walked over to you.  He laid down with his chest pressed against his back and your legs tangled together. He was still for a minute waiting for you to do something. When you don’t he wraps his arms around you and buried his head in your neck.  He immediately went for your sweet spot on your neck.  He began to suck and your breathing hitched. Unconsciously you tilted your head so more of your neck was open to his magical mouth

“Spidey do you know what you’re starting?” 

He chuckled and the vibrations make a low moan escape your lips. “I know exactly what I’m starting.”  His lips began to move up your neck leaving a trail of hot kisses. He made it to the shell of your ear and bit down on the lobe and tugged.  This again caused you to moan.

He was winning and you could not let this happen. You pressed further back into him until your ass was in the perfect placement against his crotch. His movements stopped.  You began to roll your hips back and forth.  Since the famous Peter Parker slept only in his boxers you could immediately feel the reaction your actions caused. You could also hear the heavy breathing and low groan in your ear.

“Sweetheart you’re heading into dangerous territory.”  He began to move his hips along with yours trying to create more of the desired friction. You decided you didn’t like this position anymore.

You flipped over to face the flushed breathless face of Peter Parker. You smiled and put your hands on his chest dragging your hands down slowly tracing his muscles.

“Maybe I like dangerous.” You smirked before smashing your lips against his, a hot make out ensuing. You and him were tangled and pressed so close you couldn’t tell where you limbs began and his ended. Slowly his hand started to reach the hem of your shirt. 

You were about to lift it off your head when-

“Y/N are you alright I heard a lot of groaning and thought you might be hurt.” Vision had ghosted through the wall as his room was to the left of yours.

You and Peter quickly flew apart, so fast and hard Peter accidentally threw himself onto the floor. Vision not understanding the situation continued to ask questions while you repeatedly told him that you were fine and that knocking and doors are required before entering a room.

“Mister Peter did you also come to check on Y/N for injuries?” Asked the perplexed Vision

“Um, yeah but since she’s fine I best be off to bed. Bye.” Peter ran out of the room face on fire and a weird limp to his walk. Next went a confused Vision leaving you alone.

Would this be considered a tie?


Those who asked to be tagged!

@assgardstark @lindsay-got-lost-in-the-tardis @therealsweetspawn @midtownsciencenerd @spiiderboi @im-just-lurking

@notawarriorjustyet @clean-and-claire @1022bridgetp @redstarstan @sarcasticmichelle

tasneemodair  asked:

Hello could I get a little patronus drabble. Like Harry helping Draco with his but Draco struggling because he's never truly been happy and harry giving him something to be happy about. By the way I love you blog and all your work. ❤️❤️ Thanks for blessing the world with such and amazing blog

((I combined this with an anonymous request:  Could you do drabble where Draco finds out about the Dursleys? I’m constantly changing my idea of how he would react and I think there’s not enough of this in the fandom I hope it’s okay that the prompts share a fic.  I hope you like it and thank you so much for the request and the kind words))

Draco felt another wave of disappointment when his wand failed to produce more than the faintest waft of silvery mist.  Lowering his wand hand and closing his eyes, he took a shaky breath.  He was angry almost to the point of tears. After humiliating himself in front of Harry Potter for the past week of late night practicing, he would be damned if he’d cry in front of him too.

“This isn’t working,” Draco whispered, not trusting his voice to stay steady.

“We’ve only been practicing for a week. This isn’t easy,” Harry said.

“How long did it take them?” Draco asked. He looked up at Harry.

“Them?”

“Dumbledore’s Army.  How long did it take them to get it?”

Harry didn’t answer immediately, “It’s easier the way they did it.  Finding your happiness is easier when you are surrounded by people holding on to their happiest memory.  They talked about what made them happy.  And I can’t promise it, but I think one of them cast a patronus thinking about being surrounded by genuinely happy friends.“ 

“Then why haven’t you told me yours? Your happy memory?” Draco asked. 

“You told me you won’t discuss it,” Harry said. “It was your call.”

“Fine, you don’t have to tell me. I know we aren’t, well, we aren’t friends,” Draco said.  He turned his back to Harry to hide his embarrassment. 

“No, it’s fine,” Harry said, stepping closer, “it was when I found out I was leaving the Dursley’s to go to Hogwarts.”

Draco turned to Harry, “That’s all?!  Have you been messing with me?  You have been telling me for a week that it needs to be something stronger than anything else, something strong to hold and you’re casting a corporeal Patronus on a bloody Hogwarts letter?!”

It was Harry’s turn to look uncomfortable. “It is a bit more complicated than that.”

“What is more complicated?  Casting the Patronus? Because if there’s some trick to it that you have decided to keep to yourself-” Draco said.

Harry interrupted him. “My happy memory.  It’s more complicated than just a letter.”  Harry walked away from Draco to sit on an overstuffed sofa the Room of Requirement had provided.  

Draco followed.

Over the next hour, Draco listened as Harry told story after story about how miserable his life was with his muggle family.  He had to fight not to reach out to Harry a few times.  Draco couldn’t imagine growing up without even a picture of his parents.  Draco had never had to go hungry.  He had never been denied sweets for his birthday.  He had certainly never had his hair hacked off.  

“I don’t…know what to say,” Draco said.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Harry said, “I guess, happy is just different for everyone, you know?”

“I think I assumed everyone kissed your arse from the moment you vanquished-”

“I didn’t vanquish anyone.  I just didn’t die. My mom made sure of that, but you aren’t too far off with that.  Once I was around magic, everyone treated me like I was the hero from their bedtime stories.  Hero fights boogeyman, hero wins, hero shows up in Diagon Alley for school supplies.  It was stupidly overwhelming.  I think I had one single conversation with one single wizard that didn’t end up revolving around the fact that I am ‘Harry Potter, yes, that Harry Potter.’”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, some brat in Madam Malkin’s shop talked to me because I was just some kid in the room with him.  He was a bit of a prick, but I’ve never forgotten someone showing interest in me before he even knew my name.”
Draco laughed.  

“I’ve never forgotten that.  It didn’t turn out so well.  He and I had a bit of a rough go after that.  But he never kissed my arse, as you said, because of who I am.  It took me a while to realize it, but he never hated me for being who I am either,” Harry said.

“Why did he hate you then?” Draco asked.

“I think it was because it took me 8 years to take his hand,” Harry said.

“But you didn’t-” Draco started.

Harry reached over and took Draco’s hand and simply held it.  Definitely not a handshake.

“Why don’t you try one more time tonight?  It’s okay if you don’t get it.  I would come back every night for the rest of the year if you need me to,” said Harry.

When Draco moved to stand, Harry held him in place. “Just, try from here, just sit with me.”

Draco raised his wand, “Expecto Patronum!”

He didn’t see if it worked, though he doubted it. Even if it had, the moment Harry’s lips met his, his concentration was gone; everything else in the world melted away for a few wonderful seconds.

The seventh year boy’s dormitory is quieter than it has been for ages. Its four occupants sit in a circle on the floor in the middle of the four-poster beds, around a piece of weathered parchment. It’s been a hectic spring, and Remus is glad for the chance to sit with his friends now and chew on a familiar problem. 

“I can’t believe we’re leaving in a month and it’s not finished,” James says with a deep sigh.

Sirius sighs, too, only slightly mocking. “End of an era and nothing to show for it.” 

“It’s not incomplete,” Remus protests, nudging their Map with his socked toe. “It works. It’s perfect, except for that one glitch. But maybe the Room’s magic is just stronger than our Map’s.” The Room of Requirement had been the one thing the four of them hadn’t managed to make appear on their paper model of the Hogwarts castle. Remus privately held that if their numerous spells hadn’t worked before, nothing else would - that particular bit of the Map had exhausted all of their collective creativity. 

The four of them stare for another minute or so, until Peter says slowly, “Do you guys think the Room of Requirement would make a deal with us?” 

“What kind of deal?” James asks, looking at Peter with interest. One of Remus’ favorite things about their ringleader is the way his whole conveys focus - even his hair seems to be paying attention. 

“Well, what if we left the Map in there overnight, with the understanding that if it adds itself, we’ll leave it in there when we leave. That way, it can meet the needs of future students who want to sneak around like we’ve done,” Peter suggests, speaking as though he’s figuring it out as he speaks. 

“Worth a try,” Remus answers. “The Room is at least semi-sentient, right? It can read our thoughts if we ask for something, so it should be able to understand us asking for a trade.” 

Sirius cocks his head to the side. “How is that any different than asking it to add itself? If it were possible to put it on the Map, it would’ve had to do it when we asked.” 

Peter nods, chewing at his thumbnail. “It don’t know. I guess it doesn’t take anything in return any other time.” 

“I like the idea of leaving it, though, Peter,” Remus adds. “Done or not.” 

“Admitting defeat, Moony?” James teases, ruffling Remus’ hair. “We’ll get it.” 

“Eternal optimist,” Sirius says affectionately. “But Pete’s right. Whether we get the Room on it or not, we need to figure out how to pass it on. Are there any worthy rabble-rousers in your care, Prongs? A gift like this from the castle’s one and only Head Boy would go a long way.” 

James ignores the jab. “I don’t think so…can you lot think of anyone?” 

Before anyone can answer, a regal looking school owl appears at the tower window. Sirius gets up ungracefully to take the letter, opens it, and says dryly, “McGonagall knows we raided Filch’s files. She said it ‘speaks to our skill and determination to get past the man’ but we’ve got detention with her on Sunday anyway. I think she just wants us all together to say goodbye - all we’re doing is writing lines in her office.” 

But Remus is still caught up on the first part, and looks over at James to see if he’s thinking the same thing. He is, evidently, because he picks up the map from the center of the floor and says, “We might need even more skill and determination to sneak something in.” 

And Remus is grateful that even though the end of their Hogwarts career is near, nothing has really changed at all. 

wait wait wait. do you mean to imply, joanne kfakemiddlename rowling, that moony, wormtail, padfoot and prongs, creators of the marauders map, who knew every secret passage in and out of hogwarts, somehow didn’t figure out the room of requirement? like, even if it was unplottable through magic, surely they’d at least put a note in the margins about it, right?