Fandom: Harry Potter
Title: Warmth
Author: Todo
Theme: #1 cold hand; cold feet
Pairings/characters: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Summary: Draco doesn't like the fact that he's always cold.
A/N: This is my first venture into the Harry Potter fandom, so be gentle.
You can't understand why. Why you always feel cold. Your hands are constantly like ice. Yet your body temperature always reads 37 degrees Celsius so you it doesn't make any sense. Nothing you've tried has worked. No wizard magic could warm you up. You've even resorted to muggle means, but they didn't work either. But it doesn't stop you from trying anyway.
That's why you're sitting here in front of a roaring fire, wrapped in countless blankets, still cold from head to toe. Even the cup of scalding hot tea didn't do anything for you. It burned your tongue and warmed your throat but you're still freezing and you're not sure why. So all you can do is sit and huddle in the blankets, wondering and waiting. He's supposed to be home soon.
It isn't long until he comes back, letting in with him the chilly winter winds. You send him your best glare and tell him to shut the door. He shuts it and stands there looking at you, a big goofy smile on his face and green eyes sparkling mischievously. He strips off his overcoat and scarf and discards his shoes by the door. He keeps watching you and tells you that you look adorable, all wrapped up in the blankets. To which you tell him to shut up, you're not cute. He just laughs, that light hearted laugh, which you adore, but wouldn't be caught dead admitting to it.
He turns away from you and looks toward the fire. It's too warm, he tells you as he goes to lower the force of the fire. You tell him he's an inconsiderate prat; can't he see that you're freezing? He doesn't answer, but lessens the flames anyway. And then he turns to you sitting in your comfy armchair and proceeds to unwrap you from your blanket cocoon. You start yelling at him about trying to kill you. And he kisses you to shut you up.
As he's kissing you, you think that finally, you've found something that can make you warm, even hot. You two pull apart because air is unfortunately a necessity. You ask him why he's so damn warm as he takes your cold hands into his warm ones. He tells you he's not sure, that his body temperature is always a full degree below normal. His hands are however, always warm, no matter how cold it gets. You tell him he's odd. He just laughs. Suddenly you ask him, in all seriousness, if you having cold hands all the time mean you're cold-hearted. He tilts his head and studies you, your hand still in his. He sees the seriousness in your grey eyes and he tells you no, that cold hands mean you have a warm heart. Before you can say that you are most definitely not warm-hearted, he kisses you again.
And you forget why you're arguing with him. You're arms wrap around his neck and you pull him up against him, kissing him like he's your lifeline. And in some ways, he is. Somehow your clothes end up on the floor and so do the both of you, your back against the luxurious bear rug. You forget why you were cold, how you were ever cold because right now you're burning up as his lips and hands worship your body.
And you think that maybe it's not that bad anymore to constantly be cold. Because you'll always have him to warm you right back up.