A Paler Shade of Winter

A Paler Shade of Winter

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Chapter one:
Quidditch and Snowballs

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When Harry Potter awoke early on December twenty-third, he found his best friend, Ron Weasley, still fast asleep and snuggled warmly under his many layers of sheets and quilts. Deciding to let Ron sleep in, Harry quietly dressed himself in his warmest clothes which was no more than his standard school uniform, but topped with a wool cloak, a red and gold scarf and mittens. In his opinion, the cloak seemed to weigh as much as he did, and that not being anywhere near light since he has sprung suddenly to nearly Ron's height - perhaps five or so centimeters shorter. With the spurt, though, all the muscle he had gained from Quidditch evened out and even he had to admit that having built, lean frame was no appalling aspect, but rather a quite attractive one.

He hadn't noticed it much, but his appearance had changed much over the summer and now, as he stood staring at his reflection, he really noticed how mature he looked. With one last quick look, and a slight smile, at his reflection, Harry quietly walked over to the door, slowly opened it, and near silently pulled it shut as he passed through.

Heading down into the green and black Common Room, Harry sighed heavily to himself. Lounging on Slytherin couches and chairs, sleeping in Slytherin beds - Harry was glad that Ron and Hermione had both stayed this year for the holiday. It being a troublesome time, what with Voldemort risen again last year and all, many students from all the houses, except Slytherin naturally, had gone home. Now, even though most of Slytherin house had stayed, there were enough free Slytherin beds to sleep all the students from other houses with some beds to spare. And, since Dumbledore felt it was safer to keep all the students in one place as often as possible, all the remaining Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors brought their belongings down to the Slytherin Common room which had been rigged with a temporary password specifically for the holiday break (evergreen eve). Harry was just glad, though he was forced to share a dorm room with Draco Malfoy, that Ron was in there with him.

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Small flakes of ice began to fall from the sky as Harry strolled past the Quidditch Pitch, for the third time, on his way back from his long walk. He had walked many times around the Pitch, through the courtyard, our near Hagrid's hut and down near the half frozen lake. His shoes, socks and pants from mid-calf down were soaked from walking on un-cleared paths. And now, as he stood near the Pitch, he smiled serenely to himself. When he was playing Quidditch, Harry could truly let go and turn all his harmful and hurtful emotions - frustration, anger, hatred - into determination. While Harry was in the air on his Firebolt, nothing mattered but Gryffindor and the Snitch. He lived for Quidditch and for...

Harry gave his head a light shake, tossing the melting snowflakes from his hair, now a bit damp from previously liquefied snow.

Thwap!

Harry heard the sound of something slam into something else from the other side of the Pitch. He looked intently at the Pitch, but saw only the snow-covered stands and hoops, not a single other student, or professor for that matter, was around. Being the curious Gryffindor he was, Harry began to walk closer the barrier between him and the main area of the Pitch. Still he saw no one.

Thwap!

He heard the sound again, louder this time. His Seeker eyes darted quickly over toward the opposite side of the Pitch. With a raised eyebrow, Harry started to walk through the deep snow that covered the ground around the barrier as he made his way towards the other side, following the barrier all the war around and keeping close near it. With the snow falling around him slowly against an already snow covered landscape, like in Muggle movies, Harry had a feeling he was in for a surprise. Good or bad, though, he knew not.

Drawing nearer and nearer to where the strange sound had come from, Harry's anxiety grew larger. He was eager to know exactly what this sound was and who was producing it. Standing now on the opposite side of the Pitch from where he was before, Harry slowly poked his head around the side of the Gryffindor stands he was now next to. With his hands on the corner of the stands, the canvas that covered the wooden frame made a light rustling sound and before Harry could even see anything, a large amount of snow was soaring toward his face.

With a mitten-covered hand, Harry brushed the snow off his face as well as he could. Getting the snow out from under his glasses was slightly more difficult however. Once the majority of the snow was back on the ground, Harry now had to deal with his wet glasses. Finding a dry spot on his cloak, the Gryffindor pulled off his glasses and wiped them off. When he slid them back on, his green eyes met a pair of stormy gray eyes to challenge the gray sky above.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked, though he well knew who the person in front of him was. Funny, Harry though, he hadn't noticed that Draco was already up and out when he left the dorm room. Then again, he remembered, he had walked for quite some time and Draco easily could have woken up after Harry and gotten down there within a half-hour at least.

"What do you want?" Draco spat back.

"What are you doing out here?" Harry asked as he took note of the many snowballs that were stuck to the canvas on the back of the Gryffindor stands. "Oh..." Harry said to himself.

"Well?" Harry repeated, "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you that very question, Potter." Draco sneered with an insolent smile and arched eyebrow.

"I was taking a walk," Harry said. "There, I answered it for you. Now, you tell me what you are doing," he continued as he took note, but didn't think much of, a pyramid of snowballs near where Draco was standing.

"Isn't it obvious?" Draco asked, never losing his mocking expression.

"Er... no," Harry replied quietly.

"Then, it doesn't matter, does it?" the blonde asked as his expression softened a bit.

A strange thought entered Harry's mind then while he examined Draco's almost gentle smile. Standing there in the shadow of the tower with the snow falling around him like small diamonds, Draco looked almost like something from sent heaven down to Earth. His smile was almost amiable and his eyes were almost fervent.

Almost.

Still, he could see the sarcasm and ridicule that made Draco the fifteen-year-old Slytherin that Harry knew. During those few minutes that he stood there silently looking over the blonde boy the features that Draco normally illustrated seemed to disappear and leave behind a glowing aura of a young, passionate young man bound by the confines of confusion and illusion. In those minutes, Harry could almost see himself in Draco. They were very similar when he really thought about it. Both popular, both loved by many, both Seekers, both had a passion for breaking rules, both loyal to their House, and both struggling to live up to someone or some stereotype set on them.

In his pensive state, Harry hadn't noticed that Draco had taken multiple steps and closed the distance between them. Centimeters now hardly separated them and Harry could clearly see the fiery craving that burnt in the Slytherin's eyes. And he knew that the same fire was burning in his eyes as well.

"What," Harry started, "are you doing out here?"

"I already told you, it doesn't matter at all," Draco said in a hushed voice, "unless, that is, you'd want me to take it out on you." Harry noticed something just then, and he didn't know where the thought came from or why it was true. Draco seemed oddly... familiar at the moment. The idea made Harry feel a slight bit uneasy and he quickly pushed it to the back of his mind.

"Take what out on me, exactly?" Harry asked with a curious smile. Draco's lips twisted into a pleased grin as he reached out and grabbed the shorter boy with his bare, cold hands by the shoulders and pulled him closer, sealing the distance between them with a quick, forceful kiss.

"How much I hate you," Draco said when he pulled away, still holding a very shocked Harry by the shoulders. Harry said nothing, but only stared at Draco with an over all perplexed look on his face. Draco smiled again, the same nearly caring smile that sent Harry thinking before. "See you at breakfast, Potter," he said before he let go of Harry and, with a swish of his cloak, disappeared around the tower.

Once the initial shock had worn off, Harry ran around the tower in the direction Draco had run off in, picking up a snowball as he went, but when he came around to the long side of the Pitch, Draco was nowhere to be seen. All that was there were Draco's footsteps, which became further and further spaced out as Harry walked alongside them. Draco had left something else behind, most likely by accident, though. Near a tower of Ravenclaw stands was Draco's green and silver scarf laying in the snow. Harry walked slowly over to it and picked it up with his cold, red and gold mitten-covered hands.

He smiled a bit to himself as he folded the scarf up and tucked it into his cloak. There was something strange growing inside Harry and he well knew that something was going to happen. It didn't frighten or worry him in the least, but game him an odd sense of security and warmth. And, for whatever reason, Harry didn't mind that this feeling had been forged from the sensation of Draco Malfoy's lips upon his own.