Snow

***

Harry had been flying for hours, waiting for the sky to open up. Dark ominous clouds loomed over head, promising a blizzard.

Harry loved flying through the snow. The way he couldn't see made him feel as if he were all alone, but he didn't want that today. Today he wanted company. Today he wanted someone to join him, to soar with him through the down pouring of white. Harry didn't want the usually comforting solidarity. All the snow would make him feel today was frightened.

Frightened because he couldn't see the ground. Frightened because, if the storm took him away, he would never see that someone again.

Harry wanted to fly away with his boy. His boy who reminded him of the snow; so pure and white. The color of his eyes like the iced over lake, blue on days with clear skies, and angry gray on others. They could change so quickly just like the storm. One moment the storm is raging, howling wind, the next it is calm as death. Those eyes that can never really decide what color they are, but you love them anyway.

The snow is just starting now, building a swirling rhythm fast. Harry is turning his broom, getting ready to fly into the storm, when his boy of white, his stormy love glides up next to him, calm in the face of the torrent of snow.

The storm wind's around them as one whispered word is lost to the wind.

"Draco?"

Harry is stunned. Draco starts to reply, but his words are lost to the ever growing wind. They glance at each other briefly, then together they speed toward the storm.

It becomes a race as they fly, neck and neck, to an imaginary finish line. Harry takes the lead quickly; he's been waiting for this and is used to flying through the snow, but Draco is gaining fast. Just as Draco pulls in front of Harry, he turns down the nose of his broom, spiraling to the ground at an amazing speed. His form is soon lost in the blowing white, Harry starts to worry.

Harry stops flying and tries calling out, but his voice is stolen by the wind. Breathing frantically, he starts to hyperventilate just as Draco speeds back into view a few feet away from him, a look of laughing triumph on his face. Slowly Draco glides back over to Harry, confused by the look of utter panic in the other boy's eyes. Draco tries to ask what's wrong, but the only indication is that his lips are moving.

Suddenly, Harry turns his broom around and starts flying back to the castle. Confused, Draco flies after him. As they reach the ground, Harry dismounts and stalks to the doors. Draco runs after him, trying to catch up. When they are about to reach the steps, the blond finally reaches Harry's side and puts an hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Hey, Potter! What's wrong?"

Draco gets a mumbled "Nothing", in response.

"No, it' not nothing, you look like you're going to cry!"

"I'm fine. It's just that...well you...you dove and then...you didn't come up, and I thought you had crashed."

"Oh, is that all?"

"'Oh is that all?' What kind of a response is that? I thought you died! And then you come back up laughing!" Calming himself, Harry mumbles, "I don't know why I ever even cared." Saying this, he runs up the stairs and through the castle doors.

Draco is left standing alone, the wind whipping around him as he fades into the storm.

***