You walk the seventh-floor corridor slowly, heart pounding with anticipation. Three times, you pace past the blank stretch of wall, thinking not of books or broomsticks, but of bodies, lips, breath, and touch. Of need.
The door appears.
Warm golden light spills out as you enter. The room shifts to meet your deepest craving. Enchanted candles flicker in midair, the air thick with something heady and forbidden. A common room with lush couches is before you and a hallway branches off to presumably bedrooms.
You’re not alone.
Someone’s already here—waiting. Their eyes meet yours as they give you a knowing smile that says they came here for the same reason you did.
And in the Room of Requirement, every desire is fair game.
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