A Love Like Winter
1/1
Christmas break is just around the corner, and Harry still has no clue what to do. About his, no, their predicament. He glances at the snow globe on his bedside table, studies the falling snow; the flakes reflect in his glasses. Across the room Ron snores soundly. There’s low murmuring floating to his ears from the commons below, mixing with the soft music playing from Neville’s stereo.
A light tap sounds at the window, and hurrying from the warmth of his sheets he pulls back the curtain. There, sat atop a wooden broom stick with snow flurries brushing past him, sticking to his dark cloak and matting his perfectly mussed blond hair, is the one person he equal parts loathes and loves.
Dressing quickly, Harry grabs his broom and slides between the slightly ajar window. The devilish grin on Draco’s face melts his bones, tickles his heart; brings hate boiling inside his gut. They soar quickly and quietly from the looming castle, flying high above Hogsmeade and out into the distance. Harry puts blind faith in his companion, following without knowledge of their destination.
Finally when the snow dies down to light flakes and birds begin their broken chorus of chirping, do they land at the edge of a dark cave. He can hear a faint dripping noise, and warmth washes across his face. “Where are we?” Harry inquires, stepping forth. Draco brushes the snow from his cloak with extra care, propping his broom against the cave wall.
“We’re at the perfect place for us to be us.” Malfoy murmurs, stepping closer to Harry. Their bodies seem to hum with the close contact, each wanting to step closer but neither wanting to make the first move. Potter grips the handle of his broom until his knuckles turn white and Draco glances off into the distance, a slight smile curving his chapped pink lips.
“What are you nervous for?” the blond devil inquires, and Harry’s broom falls to the stone floor with a clatter. “Nothing,” Potter replies and their lips seek each other in the growing light. Their hands are frenzied and searching, bodies wanting to feel each other.
Skin against skin, the warmth from the cave compares naught to the heat they make.
A light tap sounds at the window, and hurrying from the warmth of his sheets he pulls back the curtain. There, sat atop a wooden broom stick with snow flurries brushing past him, sticking to his dark cloak and matting his perfectly mussed blond hair, is the one person he equal parts loathes and loves.
Dressing quickly, Harry grabs his broom and slides between the slightly ajar window. The devilish grin on Draco’s face melts his bones, tickles his heart; brings hate boiling inside his gut. They soar quickly and quietly from the looming castle, flying high above Hogsmeade and out into the distance. Harry puts blind faith in his companion, following without knowledge of their destination.
Finally when the snow dies down to light flakes and birds begin their broken chorus of chirping, do they land at the edge of a dark cave. He can hear a faint dripping noise, and warmth washes across his face. “Where are we?” Harry inquires, stepping forth. Draco brushes the snow from his cloak with extra care, propping his broom against the cave wall.
“We’re at the perfect place for us to be us.” Malfoy murmurs, stepping closer to Harry. Their bodies seem to hum with the close contact, each wanting to step closer but neither wanting to make the first move. Potter grips the handle of his broom until his knuckles turn white and Draco glances off into the distance, a slight smile curving his chapped pink lips.
“What are you nervous for?” the blond devil inquires, and Harry’s broom falls to the stone floor with a clatter. “Nothing,” Potter replies and their lips seek each other in the growing light. Their hands are frenzied and searching, bodies wanting to feel each other.
Skin against skin, the warmth from the cave compares naught to the heat they make.
♠ ♠ ♠
Don't hate, it's my first and probably last Drarry. A Christmas present for the beautiful Nikki [ scabior. ]