Disclaimer: Don't own these guys, I'm just borrowing them. No profit shall be made, only kinky happiness.

Summary: When Harry and Malfoy's fighting goes too far, they're sent to a special room in Hogwarts. Seperated from the rest of the school, the two must learn to get along. But for how long will Harry's bedwetting and Draco's secrets stay hidden?

Warnings: bedwetting, omorashi, underage sexiness, mentions of past child abuse and other violent events... I think that's it. If I decide to add anything else I'll post a warning at the top of the chapter. The bedwetting/omorashi will be just about every chapter so I won't be regularly warning for them, but I'll post a warning when I get to the child abuse, sex, etc.

Chapter 1

Harry Potter was not a happy wizard. Earlier that day he had woken up to a wet bed - for the eighth night in a row - and had gotten into a minor duel with Draco Malfoy in the corridor before breakfast. Filch, of course, had to be the one that caught them and took them to McGonagall. Sick of their constant fighting, McGonagall decided to force the two to cooperate. She'd ordered them to pack a bag, telling them that they were going to be spending the weekend away from their dorms.

Nervous, Harry walked slowly back to McGonagall's office after packing his bag. He'd be spending the weekend with Malfoy. He wasn't sure what that entailed, but with Harry's growing bedwetting problem and occasional day wetting problems Harry wasn't sure he'd survive with his pride intact.

He came upon the office door and was unable to dally any longer. Knocking and getting a response, Harry opened the door hesitantly. Malfoy was already back, looking as if someone had stuffed an entire lemon in his mouth.

"Follow me, boys," McGonagall ordered, and took off quickly down the corridor not waiting for the boys to follow her.

Glaring at one another, they complied, chasing after their professor as she made her way through the castle, opening doors and turning paths that Harry had not explored before. He wasn't even sure they were on the Map. Malfoy looked as lost as he did, so Harry was sure this part of the castle was long forgotten by the students, making the young Gryffindor more nervous with each passing second.

Finally, McGonagall stopped in front of a tall oak door. She turned to her students giving them a calculating glare.

"This room was built by the founders when they first discovered how volatile young Gryffindors and Slytherins can be towards one another." she started. "The room was used to house problem students, keeping them there until they could learn to get along." Harry gulped at that. He and Malfoy were like fire and water; it would take years for the boys to solve their problems, if ever.

"However," McGonagall continued, "that rule was disbanded many years ago. These days the room is hardly used, and only in extreme circumstances. It was also changed to allow students to leave after three days. Locking them up in here for weeks or months caused a drastic slip in grades."

"So we'll only have to be in here until Monday morning?" Harry asked.

"Yes. However, after speaking with Professors Dumbledore and Snape we decided that it would be best to have you stay in this room every weekend until you learn to get along."

"WHAT!" Shrieked Malfoy, aghast.

"Do not ask me to repeat myself, Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall warned. "The house elves will provide you with your meals and will unlock the door Monday morning in time for your first class." With that she swished her wand and the door opened. "This is a time of war; you two are the leaders of your houses, and in order for us to win this war you two need to set aside your personal differences and get along.

"You are also required to surrender your wands while you are in the room. You will not be needing magic, and you clearly cannot be trusted not to do bodily harm to each other when unsupervised." Glaring at the grumbles of protest, Harry grudgingly gave his professor his wand. Malfoy slowly gave his wand up as well, although Harry swore he heard Malfoy mummer something about his father hearing about this.

She hustled the two into the room, shutting it behind them quickly. Harry heard the door lock behind them. Resigned, Harry looked at the room they were in. It was an average sized room, done in tones of soft browns and creams. Two beds were at the far wall, night tables and dressers beside them. Closer to the door was a large fireplace, a sofa and two armchairs facing it. A bookshelf stood off to the side, and opposite it was a door Harry assumed lead to the bathroom. No place for Harry to really avoid Malfoy, however, the more pressing problem was that Harry was not seeing a way to hide his nighttime problem from his arch enemy.

Thinking about his bladder made Harry realize that his bladder soon needed release. He sat his bag down on one of the beds and was just about to turn to the bathroom when Malfoy stormed his way past, heading for the loo.

"Hey, I was about to go in there." Harry protested.

"Too slow Potter. I need a shower. A Malfoy is expected to look his best at all times, even when there is no one important around to see him." With that he shut the door, leaving Harry and his bladder on the wrong side of the bathroom.

Harry heard the shower turn on, the sound of running water making his bladder twinge. It wasn't a desperate twinge, not yet, and Harry figured he could wait it out and he set about unpacking his things.

Half an hour later the shower was still running and Harry began to grow desperate. He had taken a seat by the fireplace and tried to read his new Quidditch book, but he couldn't stop squirming. If Malfoy took much longer Harry wasn't sure he could wait it out without accident. Gathering up his willpower Harry turned back to his book, doing his best to ignore his persistent bladder. He was sixteen years old and he could damn well act like it.

Ten minutes later Harry heard the shower shut off. Finally, Harry though, setting his book aside, preparing himself to rush to the loo the second Malfoy vacated the room. His bladder had turned painful and he couldn't stop himself from squirming at the prospect of soon being able to release himself. Harry, however, underestimated the time it would take Malfoy to get dressed after his shower. Ten more minutes had passed and still the Slytherin boy hadn't come out. Harry was beginning to panic. He no longer tried to restrain his squirming. He crossed his legs, but that was no help. Minutes more passed and Harry knew it wouldn't be much longer before he would lose it. Glancing at the bathroom door Harry decided he had to chance asking Malfoy how much longer he'd be.

"Oi! Malfoy! Would you hurry up in there?"

"A Malfoy's beauty takes time to complete." Came the muffled response.

Harry groaned in frustration. If a Malfoy's beauty took too much longer to complete Harry wouldn't make it. The pressure just kept building and building. Harry's hand began to slip its way down to his penis, grabbing himself through his jeans and squeezing, trying to relieve himself of some of the pressure. It worked for a minute, and Harry began to relax a bit.

Inside the bathroom, Malfoy turned on the tap, the sound carrying outside to Harry's weak and protesting bladder. His slightly relaxed bladder couldn't take it, and he released a few drops of golden liquid into his boxers before he could grasp himself tighter, moaning.

Harry was now completely tense and unable to keep still. His leg was jiggling, and his left hand was reaching down to join his other hand in grasping himself. He squeezed tighter as he felt a sharp pain flow through his lower abdomen. His bladder strained, and he couldn't stop a small squirt from leaking out into his now damp boxers. Harry grit his teeth, crossed his legs, and hoped to Merlin Malfoy would get out of that bathroom. Harry wasn't sure he could last any longer.

More minutes passed and Harry found it harder and harder to keep himself dry. He heard the tap turn off just as his bladder let go for a few seconds. Regaining control of his aching bladder was much harder this time, and Harry looked down to find a small dark spot in the crotch of his jeans.

Just as Harry wasn't sure he would last a minute longer Malfoy exited the bathroom. Harry jumped to his feet, his bladder leaking more drops out as he moved. Ignoring Malfoy's snide comments, Harry quickly pushed past him, slamming the door shut as he finally made it to the loo. However, those last, desperate, steps had been Harry's undoing. His poor bladder could take no more and Harry stood in the middle of the bathroom, his bladder emptying itself. It was all Harry could do not to moan loudly in pleasure as the golden puddle gathered at his feet.

As the final drops escaped, reality hit Harry like a bludger. Here he was, wandless and stuck in a room with Draco Malfoy, surrounded by a puddle of his own pee. How would he clean up this mess?

Thinking quickly, Harry pulled off his sodden jeans and boxers, using them to mop up the puddle. He wet his shirt in the sink and used it to clean up the remaining traces of his accident, throwing it all in the hamper when he was done. Luckily, the hamper was still charmed to send any dirty clothes directly to the house elves for cleaning, so Malfoy would never know. Harry hopped in the shower, thinking to himself that this weekend was going to feel more like a week if Malfoy kept hogging the bathroom. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do about his nighttime wettings.