A Paler Shade of Winter

A Paler Shade of Winter

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Chapter two:
Those Special Moments

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That night, as Harry sat near the hearth tending to the fire, he listened as Draco and Hermione carried on a conversation about the molecular structure of different potions. Ron was across the room helping a few second year Ravenclaws decorate one of the large trees in the common room. Harry was particularly glad that Ron was so preoccupied that he didn't notice his girlfriend conversing with his sworn enemy. It would be an odd scenario.

Harry poked the fire with the metal rod, turning a log over to kick the flames up a bit. The warmth of the fire was beginning to make him sweat slightly, but the warmth of the season seemed to affecting all the others in the room. Even Crabbe and Goyle had lumbered over to one of the trees and were lifting up two first year Hufflepuffs who had been trying very hard to place a golden star atop the tree with no luck. He smiled and sighed, strangely content with the sight of two normally rough, cruel Slytherins helping kind, warm Hufflepuffs. Even more than that, he was pleased to see Crabbe and Goyle acting equally as kind and warm.

Somehow, Harry felt that the trees and candles and other holiday decorations had somehow brought out the best in every person who entered the normally dreary Slytherin Common Room. But it wasn't dreary then, not that night, not that Christmas. This Christmas, Harry could plainly see, was going to be a very special one that he, as well as all the others, would never forget.

With the logs successfully turned and the fire burning bright again, Harry put the poker back on the rack and walked over to the closest of the three trees and began to decorate along with a few Slytherin girls. Pansy Parkinson was decorating that tree and she walked away as soon as Harry came over. Nobody really noticed this, however, except for a younger male Slytherin who scrambled after her as she crossed the room.

Time went by, slowly, and Harry kept his place over by the fire, tending to the flames as they needed it and not speaking to anyone, except for a few words exchanged with Ron. As the hours slipped away, people began to retreat into their dorm rooms; one by one, they left the common room nearly empty.

Nearly...

From behind him, Harry heard a faint rustle of fabric and felt a pair of arms encircle him tightly. He jumped at the contact and turned his head to see who was behind him. Two stormy eyes latched onto his.

"Errr... Malfoy?" Harry asked as the tried to free himself from Draco's vice-like embrace.

"What, Potter?" came Draco's pleasant, silky drawl in return.

"Let go of me."

"Never," Draco said as he buried his face against the base of Harry's neck, gently nipping and kissing the skin.

"Malfoy," Harry said in a shaky voice, "stop."

"No," the Slytherin said in-between kisses and nips. He probably would have stopped, except for that Harry had stopped trying to get out of his arms and was leaning back against him willingly now. "I'm not letting you go. Not now, not ever," Draco whispered sensually into Harry's neck.

"Why?" Harry asked as he reached up with his right arm and placed his hand on the back of Draco's head, tenderly running his fingers though his soft, platinum blonde hair.

"Because I hate you," Draco replied softly. His voice filled with lost passion and his breath warmer than the fire against Harry's skin.

Harry sighed and melted into Draco just as he had that morning.

"Do you hate me too?" Draco asked, taking his face away from Harry's neck and resting his chin affectionately on Harry's shoulder.

"Yea," Harry said after a few seconds of thought, "I do, Draco, I hate you too."

Draco smiled and kisses Harry's cheek gently. "I'm glad you feel that way," He said quietly.

"Me to," Harry said as a faint blush covered his cheeks.

Draco lifted his head off Harry's shoulder and Harry turned his head to the right toward Draco's. Their lips gently brushed together and their eyes fluttered softly shut. Harry turned within Draco's arms and knelt facing him now, his hands on Draco's chest and Draco's arms still protectively surrounding him. The Slytherin pulled the Gryffindor close, and Harry let his hands fall around Draco's waist as their chests pressed tightly together. When Harry pulled out of the gentle kiss and opened his eyes, he saw that Draco's fair skin had turned a pleasing shade of pink and his lips were bright red. Harry smiled and gently caressed Draco's blushing cheek.

They didn't say anymore words, or make any other distinguishable sounds, but stayed right by that fire 'hating' each other until they could hardly keep their eyes open any longer. Both warm from sitting by the fire, they were glad they didn't need to crawl into a cold bed alone. Two bodies heat a bed twice as fast.

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"I'm going to kill him," Ron said the next afternoon, as he and Harry helped the house elves prepare dinner in the kitchen, no thanks to Hermione's insisting they do so.

"Who?" Harry asked as he pushed a bowl of jellied cranberries into the icebox to chill.

"Malfoy, who else?" Ron replied curtly, hating to even say Draco's name - in any form.

"What did he say this time?" Harry asked in a muffled, tense voice, trying to sound as normal as he could, since his head was in the icebox looking for a spot to place the tray a second bowl that Ron was waiting to hand off to him. "Ah," he whispered to himself when the found a spot to slide in the bowl. Harry turned around and took the bowl from Ron's hands, setting it gently down in the icebox next to an uncooked ham that Harry assumed was the main course of the upcoming evening meal.

This night, the night of December twenty-fourth, was of course Christmas Eve and a small feast for the remaining students was to be held instead of a normal dinner. After the feast, a dance was going to be held from eight until midnight. Neither Harry nor Ron could wait for the feast to begin, though they still had four or so hours to sit though and they would only be helping in the kitchen for about another half-hour, if that.

"He said," Ron began as he took up chopping celery for the dressing, "well, he said nothing... it's just... did you see the way he was looking at Hermione last night? He was watching her like a hawk until she went to bed. And he expects us to do nothing about it, just let it slide?" Ron paused and grabbed a second celery stick, cut off the leave and began to chop again, "I swear, Harry, I am going to get him. I can't take it anymore. Who does he think he is? King Malfoy, and we are all his lowly, but loyal servants?"

"Only in his dreams," Harry replied as he began to wash yams two at a time in the sink. "He's been acting different this year though."

"He's still a bloody, egotistical part, if I may say so," Ron half-hissed.

"Well, he's still Malfoy. I don't know - he's changed."

"If you say so. But, really, Harry, this is Malfoy we're talking about," Ron pleaded.

"Is that so, Weasel? Care to share it with me then?"