Chapter 3
The Room of Requirement had transformed into a perfect dueling hall, its vast stone floor polished to a gleam, lined with torches that flickered ominously. The ceiling stretched high, enchanted to resemble a stormy sky, with distant rumbles of thunder adding a theatrical touch.
Harry suspected Draco had requested that particular detail.
“This is ridiculous,” Draco muttered, rolling his sleeves up with an air of supreme annoyance. “Of all the cover stories Granger could’ve come up with, this is what we’re stuck with?”
Harry smirked, twirling his wand between his fingers. “What, afraid you’ll lose?”
Draco shot him a withering look. “Please, Potter. The day I lose to you is the day I voluntarily wear Weasley’s hand-me-downs.”
Harry snorted. “Noted.”
But truthfully, dueling was the last thing on Harry’s mind.
It had been days since they’d last been alone—properly alone. Between prying eyes, Snape’s looming suspicion, and the never-ending chaos that was Hogwarts, their stolen moments had become fewer and farther between.
Now, with Draco standing across from him, the dim torchlight casting sharp shadows over his cheekbones, his pale eyes gleaming with that signature mix of arrogance and amusement—Harry was finding it rather difficult to concentrate.
“I see that look,” Draco drawled, tilting his head slightly. “You’re distracted.”
Harry huffed, straightening his stance. “I am not.”
Draco smirked. “Oh? Then by all means, try to disarm me.”
Harry took a steadying breath.
“Expelliarmus!”
Draco dodged effortlessly, twirling away with a flourish. “Sloppy,” he taunted. “Predictable.”
Harry narrowed his eyes, flicking his wand again. “Stupefy!”
Draco deflected it with ease. “Really, Potter? If this is your best, I’m honestly—”
Harry lunged, grabbing Draco’s wrist before he could finish, spinning them both until Draco’s back hit the nearest stone wall.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Harry wasn’t sure who moved first. Maybe it was him, drawn in by the way Draco’s chest rose and fell, the sharp, shallow breaths betraying his composure. Or maybe it was Draco, whose fingers curled ever so slightly into Harry’s robes, like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to push him away or pull him closer.
The tension was unbearable. Charged. A string pulled so tight between them that it was only a matter of time before it snapped.
“You cheat,” Draco murmured, voice lower than before, rough around the edges.
Harry smirked, leaning in just a fraction. “I improvise.”
Draco’s breath hitched. Just barely.
Then, just as Harry was about to close the distance between them—
BANG.
The doors to the Room of Requirement slammed open.
Harry barely had time to jump back before a very frazzled Hermione Granger stumbled inside, followed closely by an out-of-breath Neville Longbottom.
“Oh,” Hermione said, pausing mid-step.
“Hi,” Harry said, trying and failing to sound casual.
Draco, who was clearly fighting the urge to hex something, crossed his arms. “I know you didn’t just barge in here uninvited.”
Hermione ignored him, adjusting her bag. “Well, this is awkward.”
Neville, looking between them in sheer confusion, nodded. “Yeah. Super awkward.”
Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Something wrong?”
Hermione exhaled. “Yes. Several things, actually. But mostly, you two need to be extremely careful. Snape’s been watching you.”
Draco groaned. “Oh, shockingly, I was already aware.”
Hermione shot him a glare. “Yes, well, now he’s also asked McGonagall if she’s noticed anything strange. Which means if she starts paying closer attention—”
“—our cover is ruined,” Harry finished grimly.
Draco muttered a long string of curses under his breath. “Brilliant. Just brilliant.”
Neville, still frowning, leaned toward Harry. “Wait. Why are you two even hiding in here anyway? You could’ve practiced dueling in the usual training rooms.”
There was a long pause.
Harry, realizing Neville had no idea about anything, was about to answer—
But Draco, faster and infinitely more dramatic, sighed deeply. “Because, Longbottom, I simply cannot bear to be seen publicly with Potter.”
Harry’s mouth opened in offense. “Oi—”
Draco continued, placing a dramatic hand to his chest. “Imagine the humiliation! The scandal! Me, associating with such a reckless, unpolished, Gryffindor menace.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake.”
Neville just looked even more confused.
Harry, glaring, stepped up to Draco’s side. “Yeah? Well, you’re not exactly a delight to be around either.”
Draco sniffed. “You wound me.”
“Good.”
There was another pause.
Hermione, sighing heavily, turned to Neville. “Come on. We’re leaving before they start flirting in front of us.”
Neville, finally catching on, turned bright red. “Oh. Oh Merlin. Are they—?”
Hermione groaned. “Let’s go.”
The two of them left swiftly, shutting the doors behind them.
For a moment, all was quiet again.
Then—
“You cannot tell me you aren’t in love with me after that performance,” Draco said, grinning.
Harry groaned. “You are insufferable.”
Draco smirked. “And yet, here you are, in love with me anyway.”
Harry tried to scowl, but honestly?
He really couldn’t argue with that.