Title: The Room of Requirement
Author: sdk
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Harry, Draco. Can be pre-slash or just gen, you choose!
Rating: PG for language
Genre: Friendship/flangsty
Length/Word Count: Drabble, 100x3
Warnings: None of which I'm aware
Summary: As far as Harry knows, he's the only one who ever visits the Room of Requirement anymore.
Notes: For harry100's prompt - Favorite Harry Trait. I fit in a few, though I'm sad I didn't specfically mention his unruly hair. Just picture a wild mess of it while reading, yeah? Unbeta'd so please forgive and point out any typos or errors. HAPPY 100TH PROMPT, harry100!
Disclaimer: The following is based on fictional characters that I don't own doing fictional things in a fictional world that I didn't create. No copyright infringement intended, no money's being made.


The Room of Requirement

The smell of ash pervades every surface--throughout worn stone walls and scorched empty floors. The rest of the castle can be repaired, but this room has to heal itself, and no spell can erase the stench of smoke lingering in the air.

But every time Harry visits, he feels the room's magic growing, slow and sure, like a breeze soothing burned skin. It's comforting.

As far as Harry knows, he's the only one who comes here anymore, until the day he finds Draco Malfoy sitting cross-legged in the center of the room, gazing at a wall knitting itself together.

***

Though his back is to the door, Draco's shoulders tense and Harry knows Draco is aware of his presence. Several minutes pass--Harry doesn't know whether to say something or just go--when Draco speaks.

"Why did you save me?"

"You didn't deserve to die."

"Neither did Crabbe." Draco's head bows. Harry winces. Maybe he should leave before he sticks his foot further in.

"Not really," Draco mumbles. "He was just…too stupid to think for himself."

"I'm sorry."

Draco's head whips around as if he forgot he wasn't alone; grey eyes narrow, but not in malice. Harry recognizes that now.


***

"You are, aren't you?" Draco rolls to his knees, then stands and faces Harry, arms crossed loosely like he doesn't know what else to do with them. "Crabbe would have turned you over to the Dark Lord and you would have saved him. Fuck, you feel guilty about not saving him, don't you?"

Harry's cheeks burn at that, but he holds Draco's gaze, waiting to be snarled at for being a foolish Gryffindor. But Draco just closes his eyes and shakes his head.

"I wish we'd been friends, Potter," he whispers.

Harry's so surprised he actually smiles.

"Never too late."


-Fin-







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