Bloody Scarf

Bloody Scarf

"Shit."

You couldn't just leave things the way they were, couldn't you?

Draco scolded himself as he watched the green and silver wool scarf descend past the tapestries of the high Quidditch stand, in what seemed to be in slow motion.

So he watched. And he watched. And he glanced at the graceful raven-haired boy on his broomstick, who wasn't so far off in the distance. And he hoped he didn't see. He hoped he would never find out.

Once Draco saw the other boy fly by the scarf, he calmed a bit.

But that didn't change the fact that his neck was still cold.

Draco did whatever neck-respecting Slytherin would do; he swiftly (and undoubtedly stupidly) went down the proper staircase to go down and get his scarf. He knew it was unlikely that he was seen, as it was after dark, so his only concern at the moment was to be silent as possible.

But once he reached the bottom, the other boy was there, scarf in hand, his Firebolt in the other, waiting for him. "Dropped something?"

If he didn't know that he was seen, Draco would have made his final shot to run away then and there... But seeing the current situation... "Give me that," was his only attempt in speaking.

Harry looked at the blond incredulously. "What's it doing here?"

Draco fixed the hat upon his head, making sure it was covering every inch of hair; snow was beginning to fall. He looked at Harry and simply replied, "I dropped it."

"Yes," the Gryffindor said with a twinge of annoyance, "but why?"

It was the question the blond dreaded, and it wasn't a hard feat to figure out why. It wasn't the first time this question arose, either; it was the second. But the last time Harry just flat out caught him, and Draco learned never to watch him during the day again.

"Well?" Harry waved the scarf in the air, much more violently than one would a flag.

"I wanted to see if the pitch was free now, is all." Draco didn't even believe that lie.

"For the love of Merlin, Malfoy!" Harry's eyes were filled with anger. "One would think that if someone's been following someone around for so much time that they'd have a good alibi once they were caught! But not --"

"Unless they weren't expecting to get caught," Draco stated, sounded much more calmer and cooler than he sounded before.

"That's besides the point!" Harry threw the scarf to the ground. "I'm not interested Malfoy! Get that through your bloody thick scull!"

Hearing that was what Draco hated more than Harry questioning him. Draco felt he had every right to pursue Harry, as long as it was in private. And here, the two of them, alone on the Quidditch Pitch was as private as it got in such a school.

So after having no witty comment to retort with, Draco asked for his scarf back. "You want your scarf back, eh?"

"I do recall asking for it, Potter."

"Well, I don't know...." Harry picked the scarf back up from the ground. "It is a nice scarf... and warm... I left mine in my dorm, so this might be just what I need.... A nice, warm --"

"Would you just give me my bloody scarf!?" Draco shouted much louder than he intended to, without getting his point across.

"Well, you know that Muggle saying, don't you? 'Finders keepers, losers weepers'? Something like that."

Draco was ready to strangle Harry. "No. I don't."

Harry's arms slumped to his sides. "Pity; I always thought you needed more culture into your life -- ever thought about taking Muggle Studies next year?" He smirked, and Draco saw a distinct twinkle in his eye. He loved to do this. The son of a bitch loved to do this.

"Just give me the bloody scarf."

The Gryffindor held up the scarf with one hand, and pointed at it with the other one. "This one? And if I don't?" Draco began to turn to walk inside, if he'd done that in the first place he'd be warm a long time ago. "Oh, come on!"

Draco spun around to face Harry who was walking up to him now. "Keep the bloody scarf."

"I don't want it." He held the scarf out in his hand, but Draco just looked at it. "You don't want your neck to be cold."

They were dangerously close. Draco wanted to move back a little, even if it was just an inch, but he felt cemented to the ground. "It's just--" his heart fluttered when he made eye contact with Harry, time felt like it was slowing down "--it's just a bloody scarf."

Harry's expression softened as he placed the scarf around Draco's neck without resistance, his hands resting on Draco's shoulders. "Yes..." He leaned forward, then cautiously yet gently placed his lips as light as possible on Draco's.

The world melted around Draco, and it disappeared seconds later. His knees grew weak and he felt like he was about to fall, but that didn't stop him from giving in to the kiss and placing his hand on Harry's neck. That was when Harry broke the kiss.

The boys made a foot's distance between themselves and after a moment's paused, Harry said, "But it's your bloody scarf."

And Draco started for the school again, readily awaiting the next night.