Disclaimer: I own nothing! I'm just playing with JK Rowling's toys.

Author's note: The first of four chapters, this story will be somewhat fluffy, more than a little lemony, and very slashy! If thats not your cup of tea, you might want to head out now. Otherwise, enjoy! Updates should be pretty regular as the story is finished, it just needs proof reading :)

Please Note: Contains SLASH. Rated M for a reason.

Rolling in a Winter Wonderland

Chapter 1:

Draco hummed quietly to himself as he walked through the main doors and out into the Hogwarts grounds. It was the day after Christmas and Draco was in an unusually good mood. He'd had a good haul of presents this year, not least of which was an exquisite velvet cloak sent by his mother from Milan.

He had the Slytherin common room practically to himself over the holidays and that, added to the relief of having escaped spending Christmas with his mother's friends in Italy, was quite enough to sustain his good mood throughout the holiday period.

After Lucius had announced he would be spending the entire months of December and January on some death eater business or other, Narcissa had wasted no time in arranging to spend the holidays with her friends.

At first Narcissa had insisted Draco go with her, after all, what was Christmas without family? But after some careful scheming on his part, Draco had convinced her that his staying at school would be quite beneficial for her future family plans for him. After all, Pansy would also be at school for Christmas. And what better time was there for spending 'quality' time with the girl Narcissa hoped would one day be her daughter-in-law.

Draco of course, had no intention of informing his mother that Pansy was quite in love with a Ravenclaw and most probably would not be spending a single minute of her holiday anywhere near the dungeons.

And so, Draco had been happily left at school to enjoy the holidays as he wished.

Today, as it happened, was a particularly fine day. The snowstorm during the night had left a thick layer of crisp snow, and a clear blue sky. Both the need for some fresh air and the desire to wear his new cloak had driven Draco from the warmth of the castle, to take a walk around the rose gardens.

As he exited the school, his ears were assailed by the noise coming from a Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff snowball fight. Immediately, Draco altered the course of his walk, instead heading down towards the quiet calm of the frozen lake. The last thing he wanted right now was to be surrounded by idiots who actually enjoyed rolling around in the cold, wet snow.

He was just leaving the vicinity of the fight when a cold, wet and painfully compact lump of snow hit the back of his head. Icy fury overtook him as he turned to see who was about to be obliterated. No one could ever be forgiven for getting snow in Draco's HAIR!

He growled menacingly. Of course it had been bloody Potter. No one else could have such appalling aim as to hit someone behind him. Potter hadn't even been looking Draco's way.

Pulling his wand out, Draco levitated a large heap of snow into the air, aiming it until it was directly above Potter's head before releasing the spell.

The look on Potter's face, a combination of shock mixed with outrage, put the smile firmly back on Draco's face as he continued on his chosen path to the lake.

Unsurprisingly, Draco's peace was soon interrupted by a red-faced, soaking wet Harry Potter. As Draco quite innocently walked away, the Gryffindor gave chase, shouting insults at Draco's back.

Ignoring Potter as though he were nothing more than a slightly irritating buzzing insect, Draco continued on his way. At least he did, until Potter brought Narcissa into it. And if there was one thing Draco could not ignore, it was slurs against his mother.

Stopping abruptly, Draco turned around, sending a hex flying at Potter without any warning. The jet of light missed by millimetres, but before Draco could launch a second attack, Potter had lunged forwards, knocking Draco backwards into the snow.

Incensed, Draco pushed back immediately, tangling his fingers in the front of Potter's coat to get enough purchase to throw him off. Bucking his hips, Draco dislodged the Gryffindor long enough to flip him onto his back. The Slytherin followed the movement by jumping on top of Potter and pinning him down.

The victory did not last long. Potter, despite his smaller frame, was evidently much stronger and his desire for dominance was just as great as Draco's. With a hard push, Draco was once again on his back, Potter straddling his hips and holding his wrists against the snowy ground.

Draco paused for a moment before mounting his second attack, as much to catch his breath as to give Potter a false sense of security.

Draco was secretly pleased to note that Potter was just as out of breath as himself. The Gryffindor was red-faced and panting above him and Potter's grip on his wrists was slowly easing.

Potter's attention seemed suddenly distracted, though his gaze had not strayed from Draco's face. Seizing his opportunity, Draco surged forward, forcing Potter onto his back yet again as the dark haired boy was taken by surprise. Draco grabbed at Potter's hands to stop him fighting back but the smaller boy was too fast for him. His right hand snaked up to tangle in Draco's hair and Draco froze instantly.

Draco's eyes locked with Potter's nervously as he wondered what the Gryffindor would do next. There was something in Potter's expression that sent shivers skating up and down Draco's spine.

Draco tried to put it down to the fact that his new cloak now rested cold and wet against his back, soaking through his shirt. But deep down, Draco knew the snow had nothing to do with it.

Shifting slightly, Draco paused as Potter gasped softly. The Gryffindor's eyes widened perceptibly as he realised the other boy had caught his involuntary sound and for a moment Potter looked away.

"Give up?" Draco taunted, voice dripping with glee.

In response, Potter's hand, still tangled in Draco's hair, tightened almost painfully and before Draco could even stop to think, Potter had pulled his head down, pressing Draco's mouth hard against his own.

Later, when Draco thought back on it, he liked to think his immediate reaction had been to freeze. But in reality, he hadn't paused for even a heartbeat before kissing Potter back.

Potter tasted like chocolate, Draco found himself thinking as Potter tilted his head, forcing his tongue between Draco's parted lips. Chocolate mixed with something sweet, yet indefinable.

Draco hardly noticed as his own hands moved to grip Potters robes, drawing the other boy even closer. The Gryffindor's left hand seemed instinctively to snake around Draco, pressing their bodies together.

Draco couldn't think straight with Potter's lips against his. Wasn't sure he wanted to think straight. But, inevitably, the kiss came to an end and in rushed the fresh air of clear thinking.

Brought back to his senses with an icy bump, Draco scrambled gracelessly to his feet, backing away frantically.

Then, he turned and ran.

Draco wasn't sure where he was headed; only knowing that he had to get away. Away from Potter and his stupid 'just been shagged' hair. Away from the glazed look in those astonishingly green eyes. Away from that flushed face and those full, slightly swollen, deliciously kissable red lips.

Draco didn't stop running until he reached one of the lesser-used courtyards. Wiping some snow off of one of the benches, Draco sunk down onto the cold stone. His thoughts whirled dizzily, finally settling on the main question.

What the hell had just happened? Why had Potter kissed him?

Uncomfortably, Draco realised that if Potter's goal had been to unnerve him, then Draco had played all too easily into Potter's hands. Literally, as well as figuratively, Draco's mind unhelpfully informed him.

Yet the look on Potter's face afterwards had not been one of victory. He seemed almost as surprised as Draco by what had happened.

Unconsciously, Draco lifted his fingers to his lips remembering the way Potter's had felt against his own. No one had ever kissed him like that before. The girls all seemed to expect him to do all the work, while the boys only seemed interested in showing off their talents.

With Potter it had been different. The battle for domination seemed to have extended to the kiss, yet giving in had felt just as good – better, even – than winning.

Draco shivered. But this time he allowed himself to pretend it was due only to his wet clothing. Heading back inside, Draco headed to his dorm for a change of clothes and then for the prefects bathroom and a long, hot bath.

Draco spent the rest of the afternoon in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room, reading his potions textbook. Between paragraphs he contemplated going to dinner before inevitably returning to the book in his lap.

Eventually, Draco accepted that he was not willing to see Potter again until he had at least forgotten the taste of the Gryffindor's lips. Especially as even this thought process was enough to unsettle Draco yet again. In an attempt to distract himself, Draco decided to head to the kitchens for something to eat.

Turning the corner into the corridor leading to the kitchen, Draco ran straight into the one person he least wanted to see. Harry Potter was walking towards him, a plate of sandwiches in one hand and a glass of pumpkin juice in the other.

For one wild moment, Draco looked around for a place to hide, almost turning around and running back the way he had come. But he was nothing if not a Malfoy and Malfoys did not run away from stupid little boys. (Draco conveniently ignored his earlier sprint in the snow. But that had been the result of extenuating circumstances anyway.)

At that moment, Potter looked up and caught Draco's gaze. His expression flickered between nervous, embarrassed, hopeful and then back to nervous before evening out into a neutral expression.

Now the mask was in place, Draco had no idea what the other boy was thinking. Draco was secretly impressed by Potter's control, but buried that thought as quickly as it had come.

"Malfoy."

Draco was pleased to note that Potter's voice wasn't entirely even.

"Potter."

Draco smiled inwardly at his performance. Just the right amount of disgust and not even a flicker of emotion.

For a long moment, Potter stared at him and Draco was just beginning to give his thanks that Potter's hands were full and he could not possibly try anything (be it hexing him or otherwise}, when Potter turned and hurried away.

Realising he no longer had an appetite (at least, taunted his inner monologue, not for anything besides the taste of Potter) Draco turned and headed back to the common room.

He returned to his book but could concentrate no more now that he could before his latest run in with Potter. He tried turning his attention to charms but gave up on that before he'd even started. Finally, with a quick glance out of the window to check it wasn't snowing, Draco collected his broom and headed out to the quidditch pitch.

It was a clear night and the light from the moon was more than enough to illuminate his way. The light was not bright enough, however, for Draco to notice the second set of footprints beside his own which lead to the pitch.

When Draco took to the air, he was too distracted to see the startling green eyes watching him from the first row of the stands. And by the time the weather finally forced him to return to school, a fresh blanket of snow had covered the other set of tracks.