Immortalitas Aestas

It was February.

February at Hogwarts meant snow, cold temperatures, biting winds, and numb fingers reaching for the Snitch in Quidditch matches. It meant freezing walks to Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, winter cloaks, mittened hands, and house scarves. It meant nicked hot chocolate from the kitchens, snowball fights, and drying spells on the bottoms of their robes.

It did not mean temperatures in the 90's, no wind and no uniforms. It did not mean absurdly hot classrooms, no fires in the fireplaces, and no covers on the beds at night.

He was, Harry mused, going to have to drastically change his idea of February.

Harry closed his eyes, sighing as he leaned back against the maple tree. His shirt was sticking to his back, glasses sliding down his nose. He moved his feet, tucking them underneath him to get them back in the shade and rubbed a hand over his face. He'd never felt so miserable in his life.

Next to him, Ron shifted slightly, bumping against Harry's side.

Harry groaned, shoving Ron gently away from him.

"Please don't lie so close, Ron," he said softly, sweat dripping down his back. "It's too hot."

Ron dropped his head to his knees. "Sorry, mate," came the mumbled reply, "I'm trying to stay out of the sun."

Harry "hmmed" in agreement, pushing his glasses back up. They promptly slid back down.

On his other side, Hermione closed her book. "This is ridiculous," she stated irritably. "Whoever heard of it being so hot in February?"

Harry let his eyes drift closed again. He, along with the rest of the school, had been wondering the same thing.

Some said it was a freak occurrence. Others, namely the Muggleborns, blamed Global Warming.

Harry had his own ideas. The heat was solely focused around Hogwarts, ending as soon as you left the grounds. Hogwarts also just happened to be the spearhead of the resistance to Voldemort. Harry didn't consider this a coincidence. Most of the sixth and seventh years agreed with him. Hermione and several Ravenclaws had taken to checking out large books on heat spells. So far, no one had found anything that could account for the severe increase in temperatures.

The temperature hadn't slowly climbed either. It had been 29 degrees last Tuesday. It shot to 98 degrees that Wednesday.

It was now a week later. The temperature hadn't fluctuated at all. The students and staff of Hogwarts had sat through seven 98-degree days. They were tired, irritable, and hot. Not only was the temperature acting strangely, but so was the weather itself. Whereas Hogsmeade was still covered in a blanket of snow, Hogwarts was unbearably sunny and bright during the day, and extremely cloudy and hot at night. Harry was positive that if Voldemort were to attack, there wouldn't be much of a fight. He was too hot to even pick up his wand.

Sighing again, he turned to look at Hermione. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat, her face drawn. There were dark smudges under her eyes from lack of sleep. Her brown eyes, however, burned with an inner fire. Hermione, it seemed, was still determined to fight.

"Harry," she said softly, reaching out to push his glasses up again, then letting her hand rest on his shoulder.

He waited, knowing she had more to say. He raised an eyebrow.

She smiled. "How are you doing?"

He returned her smile, knowing what she saw when she looked at him, and the reason for her asking.

He knew he looked tired, the same smudges under his eyes that were under Hermione's. The heat seemed to be draining all his energy. He was moving slower and not sleeping. The bond between himself and Voldemort seemed to be getting stronger each day. He was woken night after night; his scar burning so badly he could hardly breathe.

And each time he'd push away his friends' concerned questions and dutifully tell Dumbledore everything he'd seen. So far, it hadn't seemed to do any good. The Aurors would arrive at the scene and Voldemort and his Death Eaters would be gone, leaving smoking ruins and dead bodies behind.

"I'm doing okay, Hermione," he replied.

She squeezed his shoulder once before dropping her hand.

"Just know I'm always here for you, Harry, if you ever need someone to talk to. Ron!" she raised her voice suddenly.

"Huh?" Ron responded, raising his head from his knees, blinking twice. "What?"

"Get up," she said, patting Harry's knee. "We have to go to Potions."

"Argh," was Ron's only reply. He pulled himself to his feet and stretched.

Harry stood, too, reaching a hand down to pull Hermione to her feet. He pushed his glasses up again.

"At least it should be cooler there," he said softly.

Harry reached down and gathered up his books, Ron and Hermione doing the same. Glancing towards the school he saw Seamus and Dean walking slowly across the grass.

"Well, come on then," Hermione said, walking briskly away from them, "we don't want to be late."

Harry and Ron glanced at each other, suppressing a snicker. Hermione had an obvious crush on Seamus, which explained why she was one step short of running across the grounds.

"Seamus!" Harry called out, taking pity on her. "Wait up!"

Ron glanced sideways at him. Since the beginning of the year, Harry had rarely raised his voice, and hardly ever smiled.

Ahead, Seamus and Dean stopped. Hermione caught up to them, talking quietly enough that Harry couldn't hear. He caught Dean's eye and motioned him away from the other two. Dean smiled, quietly stepping to the side and pushing Seamus gently towards the castle with a wink in Harry's direction.

Seamus took the hint, lightly grasping Hermione's arm and leading her towards the school. He glanced over his shoulder, never breaking in his conversation with Hermione, and nodded in Harry's direction. Harry smiled and nodded back, grabbing Ron's arm to stop him from walking any farther.

Dean had reached them by then and smiled again at Harry. "That was brilliant, my friend," he said, laughing. "I've been trying to get those two alone for a while now."

Harry returned his smile. "Well, I'm not sure how much more I can take. They both like each other so much and it's so obvious that I wish they'd both just figure it out. Frankly the whole thing is just making me tired, and it's not like I needed any help with that."

Dean nodded his agreement. "So, did you both read your Potions homework?"

The other two boys groaned in response, starting to walk towards the school again. Harry looked up at the sky, seeing the bright blue color and the sun beaming mercilessly down on them, not a cloud in the sky. He sighed, again pushing up his glasses. He wished that whatever this was would just go away.

***

If there was one thing Draco Malfoy hated above all others, it was hot temperatures. Heat, and the accompanying humidity, made him feel absolutely horrible. It made his hair frizz up and worst of all - it made him sweat.

And Draco Malfoy hated to sweat.

He was currently sitting in the Potions classroom, which thankfully was a little cooler than the Charms classroom he'd previously been in. His green shirt was sticking to his back, and his palms were sweating. It was, he decided, most uncomfortable.

Because of the heat, Dumbledore was allowing the students to wear whatever they liked, with the stipulation that it was in their house colors. Today, Draco was attired in a green polo shirt with grey trousers. His Prefect badge was gleaming in the light. He raised a hand wearily to his face, wiping off the sweat that insisted on dripping down his nose. He'd never been so hot.

He glanced around the classroom, knowing that his fellow classmates were feeling much the same way. To his left sat Pansy, her dark hair pulled up into a ponytail on the top of her head. She was wearing a short black skirt and a green tank top. His other female housemates were similarly attired.

To Pansy's left sat Blaise. He was currently leaning forward, elbows on the table top, sleeping. How anyone could sleep in this heat, sitting up, was beyond Draco. He, himself, hadn't been sleeping very well at all. And, casting another glance around the classroom, he noticed that he wasn't the only one.

Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle were both sleeping, heads resting on their folded arms. There was a bit of a breeze in the classroom, most likely to provide a bit of cool air to keep the Potions stable, and it was blowing the page of Goyle's book back and forth. Behind them sat Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis, both looking exhausted. They apparently hadn't read their homework, though, since they seemed to be engrossed in their textbooks.

Only three Gryffindors had arrived, Draco noted, as he shifted his gaze to the other side of the room. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil seemed to be talking about Divination, Unfogging the Future sitting open in front of them. Both of them were dressed in red sleeveless dresses, their hair pulled up in buns on top of their heads. There were purple smudges under both sets of eyes, causing them to have a bruised look. Next to Patil was Longbottom. He, too, was sleeping, apparently taking advantage of the cooler temperatures to catch a much needed nap.

The door to the classroom opened and Finnigan and Granger walked through, heads bent towards each other, talking softly. Draco rolled his eyes. It was common knowledge that they both had enormous crushes on each other and he, for one, would be glad if they'd finally realize their feelings for each other. Although, Draco mused, he wasn't sure he wanted to see them acting on those feelings anywhere near him.

Draco picked up his quill, running it through his fingers. He leaned an elbow on the table, resting his head on his hand. He was so very tired. He figured he could handle the heat, if he weren't so bloody tired. His eyes closed, and he suddenly wished he were done with classes for the day and able to go to bed.

His eyes opened again at the sound of the classroom door swinging in. The rest of the Gryffindors had apparently arrived.

His gaze swept over them. Dean Thomas was in the lead, talking to Weasley. Both boys were dressed similarly; red shirts pulled free of the waistbands of their khaki shorts. Behind them was Potter. And Potter ... well, Potter looked good.

However, he also looked absolutely exhausted. He looked like he'd slept less then any of the others in the room combined. He, too, was wearing a red shirt and khaki shorts. Draco had never seen Potter in shorts until last week when the temperatures had taken a dramatic turn upwards. He had to admit that his school rival looked quite good in shorts. Potter's cheeks were flushed with heat and his black hair was tumbling wildly around his face, and as Draco watched, he raised a hand to shove it out of his eyes. His hand lingered briefly on his scar, that ever-famous scar, and he winced slightly at the contact. Granger seemed to notice this, and gave him a concerned look, but Potter merely shook his head and continued down the aisle.

Potter looked tired and strained, and upon closer inspection, surreptitiously hidden behind the Potions book he'd picked up, Draco noticed that his green eyes were cloudy. Potter's eyes were usually so expressive; they were a gauge for Harry's moods and thoughts. Lately, though, they'd been clouded with worry and fatigue. Potter didn't seem nearly as carefree this year as he had in previous years. Well, Draco thought, as carefree as someone who has constantly had his life threatened. Draco wondered what it was that had taken the light out of those emerald eyes.

Potter sat down next to Weasley, who was still conversing with Dean. He pulled out his parchment and quill, setting them to the side. Then, he leaned forward, resting his face in his hands. Draco couldn't help but notice the way he was holding himself; he was tense and seemed to be forcing each movement he made. Draco wanted to reach across the aisle and take those broad shoulders in his grasp. He wanted to massage away all the tension in that body.

Draco had come to a realization last year. He was irrevocably attracted to Hogwarts' Golden Boy. It had taken some time to accept this knowledge, and Draco hadn't revealed it to anyone. He also knew that it wasn't just attraction; Draco cared for Harry Potter. He cared a lot.

Snape chose that moment to sweep into the room, robes billowing behind him. Potter's head immediately shot up, not wanting to give Snape any reason to take more points away from Gryffindor.

"Today," Snape growled, "we will be learning to brew cooling potions. You all should have read the chapter last night and therefore should be able to brew it without incident. I expect there to be no mistakes."

Draco rolled his eyes, gathering up his ingredients. The day that Potions class was "without incident" was the day that Voldemort decided to give up his plans for world domination and marry a Muggleborn witch.

Snape interrupted his thoughts once more as he said, "And also remember that this cooling potion is not to be taken on a regular basis. Serious harm could come to you if you insist on ingesting it simply because you are feeling uncomfortable."

Draco rolled his eyes at this and began to methodically chop his shrivelfig, glancing every so often at Potter across the aisle.

Potter, too, was chopping his shrivelfig. Draco watched those tanned hands, one gripping the knife tightly, the other moving the shrivelfig. Draco wished those hands would do completely other things to him, but shook his head to clear his thoughts. There was no way. If there was one constant in this world it was that Harry Potter hated Draco Malfoy. And, although they had started to get along slightly better this year, Draco didn't see any way the relationship could possibly change. There was simply too much history between them to sort out.

He moved his gaze back to his own work, finishing the preparation of his ingredients and setting his cauldron on low. He then added the ingredients in the correct order, stirring when necessary.

Suddenly there was a "boom" in the back of the classroom. Draco didn't even need to turn to know that it was Longbottom; seven years of classes with the clumsy Gryffindor assured him it was. Snape moved swiftly past him, most likely going to deduct several points from the startled Seventh Year. He glanced back across the aisle at Potter, who'd simply hung his head and sighed at the sound, pinching the bridge of his nose as Snape began his usual tirade.

There were no other disturbances once Snape had threatened them all with bodily harm. Draco finished his own potion, pouring a small amount into the flask in front of him. The cooling potion needed to sit overnight in a dark room before it was complete.

Standing up, he began to clean his area. Of their own accord, Draco's eyes once again landed on Potter. He, too, seemed to have finished and was cleaning up his ingredients. Taking a deep breath, Draco stepped across the aisle, meeting his startled gaze.

"Potter," he began, taking another breath, "would you like me to take your Potion into the storeroom?"

Potter blinked at him, a look of confusion settling over his features.

"Malfoy?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Draco sighed. "Yes, Potter," he replied, smirking a little. "Would you like me to take it?"

Potter seemed to shake himself a little, picking up his flask. He seemed uncertain, no doubt remembering the time Draco had purposely destroyed his potion in fifth year. "Sure," he finally said, a bit cautiously, and slowly handed the potion to Draco.

Their fingers touched and a bolt of electricity ran through Draco at the contact. He lifted his eyes to Harry's, seeing a spark in the emerald green depths.

"Thanks," came the soft reply, as Potter let go of the flask, eyes dropping back down to the tabletop.

"No problem," Draco murmured in response, turning quickly towards the storeroom.

He set Potter's potion on the shelf next to his own. He let his eyes drift shut briefly, wondering what had just happened. This definitely gave him something to think about.

After returning to the classroom, he again glanced at Harry. Potter was again sitting with his face in his hands, breathing deeply. Draco turned away, purposely picking up his quill to finish his notes for the day. He needed to think, and he couldn't do it with the object of his affections sitting so near him.

Snape dismissed class shortly afterwards, telling Longbottom quite casually that he'd be serving detention that evening. Draco took no time in leaving the dungeons. Luckily he had a free period next. He needed to think - about several things.

He needed to think about Harry Potter.