Title: Frozen

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

Pairing: Draco/OC

Summary: That he was here at all was odd enough. He knew that. She knew that. The whole bloody school knew that. It was good to know some things hadn't changed though.

Author's Notes: A short little one-shot that I wrote about Draco's eighth year at Hogwarts. It's slightly angsty, slightly fluffy, and really quite sweet. It contains what might seem like a rather strange turn of events right at the beginning but if I was McGonagall this is a condition I would have imposed on any returning eighth years as well so I wanted to write a story that included it. Enjoy!

Frozen

Elizabeth eyed the boy sitting opposite her warily. She wasn't afraid of him, there was nothing really to be afraid of anymore, but she was wary. He sat, coiled up in the armchair, his body held tense as if he might, any moment, need to leap out of it and attack. His eyes moved furiously over the pages of his book, he was reading with an intensity that was almost frightening, as if he was trying to force the words into submission under his gaze.

That he was here at all was odd enough. He knew that. She knew that. The whole bloody school knew that. Eighth years had been allowed to return to the school only if they submitted themselves to resorting. Most had ended up in the same place. Zacharius Smith had been moved to Slytherin, Hannah Abbot had been moved to Gryffindor, Draco Malfoy had been put into Ravenclaw.

To say that he had been furious would be an understatement. He had glared at Professor McGonagall with murder in his eyes, but he hadn't complained. There was nothing he could do about it, even less that his father could do for him now, so here he was, in the Ravenclaw Common Room, pale, frozen and out of place, trying to pretend he wasn't here at all.

That was mostly what everyone else was doing as well. Students moved around him and past him and their gazes slid over his chair as if there were no one in it at all. Everyone except Elizabeth. She stared at him until the sheer force of her gaze made his eyes flick briefly upwards. Pale grey met azure blue and there was a brief sneer before he snapped his eyes back down. Elizabeth smirked and returned to her own book. It was good to know some things hadn't changed.

It went on for weeks. Every evening he would be sat in one chair or another, always with his legs curled under him, always tense and wary, never looking up, never meeting anyone's eyes, never speaking, gaze fixed firmly on the words in front of him. Elizabeth had lost count of the number of books he had assaulted with his stare, though she had spent more time than she really should have gazing at those long slender fingers as they flicked each page over with a ferocity bordering on violent. They looked cold, like everything else about him. She wondered how cold they really were.

It was inevitable that one day there would be no chairs available. He stood by the fire, the flames casting an orange glow over his skin and hair that for once made him look alive, as he swept his eyes over the room. Elizabeth was lying on the sofa nearest the fire with a book of her own. Without speaking she twisted, sitting up and drawing her legs underneath her so she was taking up only half of the available space. She met his eyes for the second time that year. Pale grey. Azure blue. A slight jerk of the head. He raised his eyebrows and took the seat.

She had read another chapter before she noticed him looking. He was doing it discretely, out of the corner of his eye, face still angled towards the pages of his book, but those eyes weren't moving; neither were those long, pale fingers. He was definitely staring at her. She glanced at him. He twitched as if he'd been shocked and returned to his reading with even more than his usual ferocity.

There were three second years outside the statue when Elizabeth approached. The lower years often got locked out, though Elizabeth was sure the statue did make the riddles easier for them. She enquired as to the question. "What is broken, only when spoken?" She'd been giving it some brief thought when his voice had come from behind her. It was the first time she'd heard him speak since the start of the year.

"Silence."

The statue swung open and Elizabeth tried to catch his eye, but he studiously avoided her gaze. Silence. It seemed fitting somehow that he would have known that answer.

He was watching her again. She was doing her homework at one of the tables in the Common Room, but she could feel his gaze burning into her all the same. A strangely fiery gaze for someone so cold. He was sat reading to all intents and purposes, but actually looking at her. Why? She didn't know. Her eyes snapped up. Pale grey. Azure blue. He twitched again and snapped his gaze back to his book.

It had been a strange and sudden impulse that led her to do it. Perhaps it was the leftover Christmas spirit that still permeated the January air. She had been watching him read for months now, platinum blond hair, slightly too long, falling into soft grey eyes. Long pale fingers still flicking at the pages as if each and every one had personally insulted him. Sometimes she caught him watching her too, though there was nothing in that cold expression that gave away why. His choice of reading material was intriguing. He was interested in wizarding history. Elizabeth wondered vaguely if it was a hang over from his belief in pureblood superiority that she was sure still held him captive. She had nothing to fear. The name Fawley still deserved its place as one of the Sacred 38, though no one in her family was particularly inclined to share its author's views.

This was her impulse though, an impulse that had nothing to do with blood, pure or not. She approached him and held out the slim volume to him without speaking. He glanced up. The Singing Swords was a book of wizarding myths and legends. She'd never seen him reading it, she doubted he ever had, it wasn't particularly well known.

"I want it back afterwards."

They were the only words exchanged, though he accepted the book with what might have been a curt nod of thanks, or might simply have been an acknowledgement of her statement. Either way, behind that cold expression of detachment, was surprise.

He returned it, as she expected, just two days later. She'd seen him reading it. He read quickly and steadily, his eyes darting from one line of text to another as if they might disappear if he did not absorb them fast enough. Perhaps he just wanted to get to the end as quickly as possible. Take all the book had to offer and then move on.

"Did you enjoy it?"

She didn't know why she had asked, but he had lingered as he had handed the book to her, his fingers splayed over its dark cover just a second longer than they needed to once she had taken hold of it. His lips tightened, but after a second there was a brief nod. She smiled and he turned away. There had been surprise in those grey eyes again.

Spring crept over the castle and over the students within, though Draco Malfoy did not thaw along with the frosts of winter. She'd lent him another book, and the exchange had been much the same as last time. He watched her some more as well, until one day she'd shot him a questioning glance in return. He hadn't watched for a week after that, hiding behind arrogance and Malfoy pride, the lines of his face drawn tight as he kept his eyes on his latest book. He was too pale.

The evenings turned warmer and lighter. Students flocked to the lake in the evenings and surprisingly he went too. Perhaps he knew that a winter spent mostly indoors had turned him into a living ghost. Perhaps even he felt the pull of a world born anew. Either way she saw him by the lake often, sometimes reading, sometimes staring out over the water with an unseeing gaze. She wondered what thoughts played over his mind.

He was hiding. From who she didn't know. His Slytherin friends, if they could be called that, had long since abandoned him. He had no one. He secluded himself in a spot very few students knew of, screened from the castle by rocks and bushes, leaning against the trunk of a weeping willow, whose branches didn't really let in the sunlight he so desperately needed. Maybe that was why sometimes, when she found herself drawn once again to that spot, he was not under it at all, but sitting with his knees curled to his chest in the sunshine.

He would watch her. Not glaring at her, but clearly not welcoming her into his little private domain, until she had wandered out of his sight, or wandered away. More than once she had ignored his look and sat down with her own book. He had returned to his then and read too. Neither of them were inclined to speak, but then what was there to speak about and why would they anyway?

Easter came and went. Like every other eighth year Draco had abandoned his usual reading material in favour of textbooks and notes. NEWTs were coming. This was their last chance to prove themselves. Some had more to prove than others.

Elizabeth wandered down to the lake again one warm May evening, late enough that most students had gone inside. There was a pile of clothes where Draco usually sat and a figure swimming in the lake. He cut through the water with unexpected grace and she watched, until eventually he swam back to the shore. And then he wasn't swimming anymore, but standing, wading through the shallows, water dripping over porcelain pale skin and a frame that was only just the right side of skinny. He ran his hand through his hair and looked at her, his expression unreadable. She'd blushed, because he was wearing nothing but his boxers, and hurried away. She shouldn't really have been watching in the first place.

She didn't disturb his privacy again until the NEWTs were more or less over. There was just one more, arithmancy, tomorrow. Needing quiet she went back to the place Draco had claimed for his own and sat under the tree with her notes spread out around her. He arrived, not long afterwards and she scrambled to her feet, a half formed apology on her lips, until she realised that actually she had as much right to be here as he did.

"Elizabeth." His voice was not threatening, in fact he sounded almost pleased, if pleased could be applied to the tone of someone who was looking at her with suspicion and very obvious misgivings about why she was there in the first place.

"Draco." His name fell from her lips without her really meaning it to, but her mouth was oddly dry. She licked her lips and tried to decide whether she would leave or whether she would simply stay and force him to find a new spot for his revision.

It took a moment to register his hand on her cheek, gliding towards her hair as he leaned towards her. Her breathing hitched and he stopped, eyes burning into hers with an unreadable expression, a slight frown marring his perfect features. Pale grey. Azure blue. His lips were on hers, soft, cold, insistent. She kissed back because to not return a kiss like that would have been a crime. It was the most intense kiss she'd ever been given and he was the most intense man she'd ever kissed. His whole being in that moment was focused on her, on their lips, on this kiss. She felt coveted, desired.

A tongue swiped at her lower lip. She allowed it entry, and it teased and flicked over her teeth as a hand pulled her hips flush against his. He very much desired her; that was obvious. The kiss deepened until she laced one hand in his hair and forgot about how stupid this whole thing was and thought only that she didn't know what she would do if this kiss ended.

It did end. With a shuddering gasp that might have been her, or might have been him, or might even have come from both of them. She opened her eyes when she realised they were closed to see him looking at her, his hair slightly less perfect than usual, the first hint of a flush on those pale cheeks. The look he gave her was as intense as the kiss, and then he was gone.

She sank back to the floor and tried to concentrate on her revision. After the exam there would be time to think about what had just happened.

Graduation. Speeches and ceremony. Laughter and tears. Elizabeth would miss Hogwarts. Life would never be the same.

They were getting into the boats, older, wiser and taller than they had been last time she had ridden in these. Only two to a boat this time. Draco had joined her in one without a word and with barely a glance. She rested her chin on her hand and watched as the castle faded into the distance. He watched too, with more emotion in his eyes than she had ever seen before.

They were one of the last to reach the far shore and he offered her his hand as she climbed onto dry land. She went to drop it, but he held on, tugging her back as the last of the students went clattering down the path to the station.

"Elizabeth." It was only a whisper, but she turned and stepped closer and he looked at her with something akin to hope in his eyes. This time they both leant forwards and this time the kiss was just as intense as the last, but this time it held the promise that there would be more to come.

She pulled away first this time and smiled before she dropped his hand and wandered away down the path to the station. There was only the space of a heartbeat before he followed, hands in his pockets, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Perhaps he had finally thawed.

Life would never be the same, but maybe that was not such a bad thing after all.