Author's Note: This is just a quick drabble that's been running around my head, and I would like to reiterate: THIS IS NOT A SMUT. THIS IS NOT A SMUT. THIS IS NOT A SMUT. That is all. I hope you enjoy.
Some Like It Hot, Some Like It Cold
Hermione Granger was staying with the Weasleys again and had found the time in the morning to sneak into the tiny bathroom for a proper shower. She was the first one of the kids awake, and could hear Mrs Weasley downstairs, already making breakfast. The twins were asleep, as were Ron and Ginny. The elder children were still away from the nest, and Mr Weasley had already left for work, so she didn't have to worry about anyone else. For once, she had a moment of peace.
She undressed quickly, letting the water in the shower run hot until the room was filled with steam. She stepped in, letting the water soak in to her bones. It was rare that she was able to enjoy a hot shower, and damn if she wasn't going to enjoy this.
She ran the shampoo through her hair, knowing the twins would have stayed out of it, on pain of Mrs Weasley's wrath. She was thankful for that. She stayed under the steaming water, completely relaxing, then finally, regretfully, turned off the water, and wrapped a towel around herself, brushing her teeth before pulling her clothes on and toweling off her hair. She opened the door just in time to find the twins pounding downstairs, whooping and hollering at the prospect of food. She smiled and joined a grumpy Ron and sleepy Ginny in the parade to the breakfast table.
Draco Malfoy was back at his family's castle, so used to the chilled stone he couldn't bring himself to snarl anymore. Some house-elves drew his shower for him, laying out his towels and setting about making sure his morning flowed smoothly.
Finally, someone to blame. "Get out of my room!" he snarled at them furiously, making them scatter. Satisfied, he climbed into the shower with a smug smirk. The water was freezing, and he shivered uncontrollably for a moment. He remembered the first time his father had given him a shower rather than his mother, who bathed him in her bath with steaming hot water. He was about seven years old, and his father had been furious.
"Draco Lucius Malfoy!" his father rumbled, gripping his arm hard enough he was sure it would bruise. "You have disappointed me!"
"I'm sorry, Father," he whimpered, allowing his father to tow him along. "I'm sorry…"
"You are weak, boy!" Lucius hissed, shoving him into the bathroom. "Take your clothes off."
"Father!" Draco whimpered, staring up at the tall man.
"Now."
Draco obediently dressed down, his robes falling to the floor. He shivered instinctively at the chill in the air, pulling in on himself.
"Shower," his father said firmly.
"Please-"
"NOW."
Draco ducked his head and clambered in, bracing himself.
But nothing could prepare him for the chill.
Draco snarled into the freezing water pounding down on his face, running his hands through his hair. He turned so the water was slamming on his pale back, scrubbing himself down with harsh soap before rinsing a final time and slamming his fist against the shower knob, forcing it off and feeling a satisfactory blossom of pain in his hand. He stepped out and was greeted by a house-elf handing him a towel. He growled low, and the house-elf left him again. Draco wrapped the towel around his waist and stared into the mirror, hardening his jaw.
He would not be weak again.