Too Cold

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It was a cold day.

No it was damn freezing, and Draco Malfoy hated the cold. Contrary to popular belief, just because he matched the icy weather, it didn't mean he liked it. In fact, he hated cold things so much that he was sitting in front of the Gryffindor fire place, bundled up in at least three layers of clothes, one a green woolly disaster with a huge "H" on it, wearing a gold and red scarf (No matter how hard he tried to transfigure it into a more appropriate color, it would somehow turn back into the hideous Gryffindor mess, and he was quite sure who caused it so he made sure to glare in the Weasley's direction every now and then) and finally a pair of beige gloves that covered each and one of this slender fingers.

Bloody Gryffindor fires, Draco thought angrily, Not even warm. Gryffindor's can't do anything-

"Draco?"

Oh great, it's him.

"Feeling better?"

What do you think?

"Of course not, Potter." Draco said lazilly, trying not to let the warmth of the fire and the woolly socks sitting on his toes manipulate him into falling asleep.

"You do realize you're about to fall asleep in the Gryffindor common room."

Nonsense. I would never step foot into-

Oh, right.

"I wasn't falling asleep." Draco said coldly, but the malice was a bit off, considering he was wrapped in a bundle of gold and red while his eyelids were drooping over his tired eyes. Not to mention, his voice was incredibly muffled because of the scar wrapped around his face.

"Right."

Draco scowled towards the general direction of Harry, "I can't believe you brought me here in the first place." He said, swiftly changing the subject.

There was no response, and Draco felt his anger multiply. "Potter?"

"Potter?"

"POTTER?"

"Draco, I was in the bathroom, and holy fuck do you shout loud."

"I wasn't even shouting." Draco said, his voice a bit embarrassed.

"Of course, why were you calling me? You didn't miss me did you?"

Harry's sly voice cut through all his thoughts. Bloody Gryffindor acting like a Slytherin. How much more twisted can this day get?

"Miss you? Why would I ever miss you." Draco said, feeling his cheeks grow considerably warmer.

Damn Gryffindor's and their scorching fires!

A soft hand pulled the hideous scarf off Draco's face, soft fingers purposely trailing across pale skin. "Oh, I don't know..."

"Can you please shut that thing off!" Draco said in a high-pitched voice, pointing to the fire. His ears were pink and he felt the warmth radiating off his blushing face.

"You're the one that told us to turn it on in the first place!" Harry said lightly, a playful banter in his voice.

"Well shut it off! Who made that fire anyhow! Don't you realize it was too hot!"

"Right."

A bit of embarrassing silence enveloped the room, and Draco fiddled with the green wool of the ugly sweater he was wearing. He rolled his eyes as he felt a hand stop his.

"That's my sweater you're ruining, there, Draco."

The blonde scowled lightly feeling the hand wrapped around his lightly trail across his skin. "It's an ugly sweater anyway."

Harry seemed a bit offended and crossed his arms over his chest. "That was a bit rude, don't you think. Mrs. Weasley made that for me."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Mrs. Weasley makes the Weasle's their clothes? No wonder they're so barbaric."

"Hey!"

Both boys ignored Ron's sudden outburst and continued the little staring contest they were in. Finally Harry turned away and started on a Transfiguration essay, leaving Draco feeling a bit put out.

"Potter?... Potter!... Potter!"

"What?" Harry said, his voice distant and cold.

"I'm cold." He whined, though he made sure it was in a very respectable manner.

"Then turn on the fire!"

"But, it's too hot."

"So get a blanket."

Draco sighed, feeling suddenly very neglected and abandoned. "I have a better idea." He muttered.

"Oh, and what's that-"

Draco slowly crawled over towards Harry, still quite bundled up, and cut him off by pressing their lips together. Sucking slightly on Harry's bottom lip, the blonde inched closer to the warm body, situating himself right in Harry's lap. Feeling fingers wrap around his waist, Draco smirked slightly, opening his mouth for Harry's envading tongue. Silky fingers were soon thrust into the brunette's thick hair as a soft moan broke out from the blonde, the kissing becoming more desperate.

"Yes," Panted Draco softly, his short hair sticking up in every direction possible. "I feel quite comfortable, now."

"Do you?" Said Harry in a breathless voice, still holding onto the blonde quite tightly.

"I suppose. But I'm never having another snowball fight with you again. You cheat worse then a Slytherin."

Harry let out a warm laugh making Draco smile.

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