Cornered

“Gotcha!” shouted Harry, grabbing Draco by the front of his robes.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Potter?” Malfoy shouted back at him, “Get off me!”
“No chance,” said Harry, tightening his grip on Malfoy and dragging him through the nearest door, “you’re going to tell me what you’ve been getting up to.” He shut the door of the empty classroom behind them and threw Malfoy into the nearest chair, which he immediately made to get up from, until he saw that Harry’s wand was pointing directly at his forehead.
Draco had beads of sweat on his upper lip, betraying the calm and disdainful expression he wore on his pale face. He crossed one leg over the other and clasped his hands in his lap,
“Where have you been disappearing to?” demanded Harry, pleased to see that Malfoy was now trembling visibly. He slumped in his seat, hands at his sides,
“I’ve got nothing to tell you,” he said dejectedly, “it doesn’t matter now anyway.” This sudden change in Draco’s attitude threw Harry totally, but keeping his guard up he raised his wand again and asked,
“What doesn’t matter anymore? Why doesn’t it matter any more?” he paused, “I heard you talking to Borgin, I know who your new master is.” If Harry was surprised at Malfoy’s sudden despondency, the miserable grimace now spreading over his face spoke volumes,
“Fuck off, Harry.” he said quietly, crossing his arms. Harry’s wand hand wavered slightly, then immediately he realised he was feeling sorry for Malfoy – but also intrigued, to his knowledge Malfoy had only ever used his first name only once before. “I hate you so much, Potter. You know that, don’t you?”
“It’s mutual, Malfoy.” Spat Harry bitterly. To his utter amazement, Malfoy began to cry. He turned away from Harry and tried to hide his sobs, by covering his face with his hands. Harry was at a loss as to what to do, his immediate reaction was to console the crying boy, but it was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy crying in his presence.
Harry put his hand on Draco’s shoulder and asked, grudgingly,
“Are you okay?” Malfoy looked up at him, stricken, tears flowing down his face,
“Do I fucking look okay?” he put his hand on Harry’s, then said more quietly, “Don’t yell at me.”
Harry’s mind was in a whirl – had Malfoy gone completely insane, or maybe he was under the Imperius curse, either option was more than likely, and Malfoy hadn’t removed his hand from Harry’s yet.
He stood up, tightening his grip on Harry’s fingers,
“You don’t know how hard it is, Harry,” the name uncomfortable on Malfoy’s tongue, “I said I didn’t want to do it. I said I couldn’t.” before he had a chance to react, Malfoy put his other hand on the back of Harry’s neck, pulled him in close and pressed his lips to Harry’s mouth. Harry pulled away looking horrified, he opened his mouth to speak but Malfoy stopped him,
“Shut up, okay? Just shut up, Potter. Pretend I’m Ron Weasley or something.” he said thickly, and pushed Harry down on to a chair. Harry was dumbfounded, and simply watched agape as Malfoy climbed on to him, one leg either side. Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as Malfoy, his enemy, his nemesis, ran his fingers up into the wild shock of dark hair. The boys sat looking at each other; Malfoy, still tearful, idly teasing the ends of Harry’s hair – Harry still shocked and wishing he wasn’t enjoying this sensation. They kissed again, slower this time, gently exploring with lips and tongue. Harry started to get hard, and was somewhat pleased (and thoroughly appalled) to feel Malfoy getting hard as well. Malfoy, whose tears had dried by now, slowly moved up and down in Harry’s lap, pressing their hardness together.
Harry broke off the kiss,
“Draco,” Malfoy’s name being equally uncomfortable on his tongue, “we can’t do this. I can’t do this.” Sudden hatred sprang to Malfoy’s eyes, and he got up off Harry immediately.
“Fuck you then, Potter,” he retorted, raising his voice, “you poof.” He grabbed his schoolbag and ran from the classroom, new tears in his eyes.
Harry sat, perplexed, absent-mindedly feeling the tent at the front of his grey trousers. He realised what he was doing and stood up with a start. He still didn’t know what Malfoy was doing in the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor. Thinking of what he had just done, Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and hurried off to find Ron and Hermione – they would hear an abridged version of what had just happened.