In Winter

Authors: Kireshai and Serpiens

The beta-ing was done by: Kireshai, 'cos Serpiens sucks at grammar.

Genre: Angst/Romance

Warnings: NC-17, swearing, implied sex, unresolved sexual tension (that is not worth a warning, Serpiens), masochism, masturbation.

Disclaimer: If we actually did own them, this piece of fine literature would not be here. See the woman over there waving around billions of dollars? Her name's J.K. Rowling. Yeah, she owns them. Everyone, praise her.Praises

Authors' Notes:

Serpiens – This was started a while back aboard a moving bus after school camp as the scenic countryside rolled past the window. It should be good. Kireshai will most likely insist that it is good, because she co-wrote it, but I leave you, reader, the liberty of decision. I have taken on the role of Harry, but due to the Slytherin in my heart, he has turned a tad OOC. Just a tad. Read on, find out and enjoy.

Kireshai – A tad OOC!! He's turned into a stalker, Serpiens. And I am not as vain as you make me out. I believe that this could have been better. It's not my best fiction. And it was you who made it bad!!! Anyway, I, Kireshai, take on the position of Draco, because I'm sexier than Serpiens (if you insist…). And most of the typing was done by me, 'cos Serpiens couldn't type it for shit. And I'd like everyone to know that Serpiens forced me to type in word, for which I hate her (I'm too adorable to be hated)

Draco

I hate winter. It's so dull. And snow falls. Snow is so pure, so untainted, so undesirable. Winter is cold as well. I hate having to put on extra layers of clothing, having to hide my beautiful body. AND cold makes my nose go pink. All in all, I really hate winter.

Harry

Winter. The perfect excuse to lie in front of the fireplace with a hot cup of cocoa in hand. Ron and Hermione are once again playing Wizard's chess. I glance outside the window, the warmth of the Common Room contrasting with the cold snow outside. I find my thoughts drifting to that person…

Draco

Damn, I hate being quidditch captain. It's bloody awful. I have to stay outside during the coldest parts of winter and teach the gibbering goits, commonly know as the Slytherin quidditch team, how to throw a quaffle. Why did I get the crap team, while Saint Potter once again has the fucking Irish quidditch team incarnate? Damn Potter, the lucky bastard.

Harry

I feel a tap on my shoulder, waking me from my thoughts. And just when they were getting interesting too. I turn to see Ron with most of the Gryffindor seventh years standing behind me.

"Harry, it's time for quidditch practice." Says Ron, "You coming?"

"Still need help setting up the ball machine?" I quip, grinning. "Give me a minute, I'll meet you on the pitch." I run to the dorm, all thoughts of my favourite blonde leaving my mind.

Draco

Heh… Heh… Fuck… Potter…

THE BASTARD! Words don't even begin to describe how much he pisses me off. The smarmy bastard's walking onto the pitch with the entire Irish quidditch team incarnate in tow. At the sight of them, I quickly land and walk towards the small group.

"Hey, Potter! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Harry

"Hey, Potter! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

I smirk at the words, glad to have caught my Slytherin's attention.

"Malfoy. Nice weather today. It's time for the Gryffindor team to practice, so shove." There. That should make him mad. Lately, I've been trying to make him angry so he'll notice me more. I think it's working. I watch in amusement as Draco's eyes glint in anger.

Draco

Oh, he's annoying me now. "If you'd read the booking sheet, you might realise that Slytherin booked the pitch for the day. AND there was no Gryffindork booking."

"There was a booking yesterday, until you magically erased it, Ferretface!"

I'm thinking of a good retort when I notice something that makes me smirk. I stare at it for a second, before making eye contact with Potter. Seems he's getting more out of this than just my anger.

Harry

The problem with quidditch robes is that they are way too form fitting. I unconsciously shift my clothing in front of my crotch, but then I see Draco's smirk and I know I've been caught. Time to put phase two into action. Besides, I need to pay him back for erasing Gryffindor's booking.

"Now get off the pitch or I won't shag you tonight." I say.

Phase two activated.

Draco

"Now get off the pitch or I won't shag you tonight."

At first his words annoy me. But then, an interesting thought comes to my head. I walk slowly towards him, until my right shoulder is in front of his, then I whisper to him.

"Empty threat, gorgeous. You know you'll be begging me to fuck you into the mattress before midnight. Now." I grab his crotch tightly, and twist my hand, hard. I can feel him squirming under the pain. "Be a good boy and wait for me inside."

Harry

Lights flash before my eyes as the heat from the pain tingles up my spine and I fall to my knees. That brief moment felt good. TOO good. I know I need more. Panting, I see the blonde hair disappearing into the school, towards the dungeons. Stuff quidditch practice.

I run to follow.

Draco

That may have been a bit too much. Oh well, it's too late now. I've decided the common room is the wrong place to go. So, I go to the place where I know I'll be safe, and where I can get rid of the raging hard on I've suddenly developed.

As I reach a portrait of a wizened witch standing over a cauldron, I call clearly, "A bezoar I shall find for you, from the stomach of a goat." As I sound the last word, the portrait swings open to reveal my lover, Severus.

"Hello, Severus." I pull his robes, and plant my mouth on his, securing it in a passionate kiss. "Right now, I could do with a terrific fuck." I grab his hand and pull him speedily into the room.

Harry

I close the door behind me and lean on it, trying to still my breath. I have already checked both the Slytherin common room and the secret potions classroom he uses. I have to find him, fast. I pass a hand over my length, hissing at the pleasure it creates. Now. I want him now. I push away from the portrait door, walking as fast as I can in search of my soon-to-be-fuckbuddy.

As I turn the corner, I see my fantasy throw himself at the resident potions master, kiss him, and push him through a portrait hole.

A small intake of breath, I feel an onslaught of emotions. It's too much.

I head back to Gryffindor tower.

Draco

I can feel all the aches and pains in my body, a good reminder of last night. Severus had been fantastic, and I had barely managed a little bit of sleep afterwards. I play the night over in my head as I sit down next to Blaise at the head of the Slytherin table, surrounded by the other seventh years.

I am quick to snap out of my reminiscing when I hear the talk around me.

"…Do it every night…"

"…Glow-in-the-dark handcuffs…"

"…Declared his undying…"

"…Hot in leather…"

"CRABBE!" I snap, annoyed. "What are you talking about?"

"About you and Potter, of course."

Harry

I stare at the lion prowling around on the ceiling. I feel as if all my energy has been sapped out of me. Breakfast should be ending soon. I sigh, replaying the images of Draco and Snape in my head. I've decided right here and now that I'll skip today's classes.

Then Ron barges in and shouts, "Harry! Did you really tie Malfoy to a bed and have sex involving chocolate sauce last night?"

All the more incentive to stay in bed.

Draco

Potter's been cut off for three weeks now. Won't let anyone near him. Apparently, the first time McGonagall tried to talk to him, he made her clothes disappear without even lifting a finger. I pity the poor people who had to witness that display. I'm not too sure of it, but I believe she gave up after that. I wonder what he does everyday, up there, all alone in his room.

Harry

I don't think I've ever fully appreciated romance novels until now. I'm onto my sixth one already, and it's like a drug. Each and every single plotline speaks to me and makes me cry like there's no tomorrow. Last week I was in the middle of one when Professor McGonagall suddenly appeared next to me. I didn't really mean to make her clothes disappear, it just… happened. Apparently she'd knocked on the door for a full five minutes before she used her magic to come in. I didn't talk to her, and in the end I think she gave up. She told me to at least throw away the chocolate boxes that are scattered around the room. I didn't listen to her. I'm too engrossed finding out what happens to the poor, blonde, damsel-in-distress.

Draco

Apparently, Potter's into romance novels right now. That's what Blaise told me, anyway. Said he'd heard it off Weasel, who he's consequently screwing right now. GROSS! Screwing the Weasel! Can he sink any lower?

But, nowadays, I really wonder why I talk so much about Potter. It's as if I live for Potter.

And it's not just talking about him. Whenever I'm fucking Severus, I imagine he's Potter, and if I try to fuck 'just Severus', I lose it straight away. It's bloody ridiculous.

Right now I'm sitting on my bed reading, and if I think of Potter, I start to harden. I put my book down next to me, and undo my thick winter robes. I can see my erection straining against my trousers. Unable to wait any longer, I unzip my trousers and slide my hand into my pants. I bring myself off quickly, and as I come, I whisper one word to the room. "Harry."

Harry

I tug at the scarves that tie me to the bed, trying to be rid of them. To no avail. My breath hitches as I feel a pair of lips caress my left nipple, tugging on it, before releasing the abused flesh. A hot cavern suddenly encases me, and I thrust against that mouth, and I'm there…

I open my eyes and stare at the sandy-haired hovering above me. Seamus grins.

"And that's how you do foreplay."

Draco

I cannot believe what Blaise has just told me. He heard it off Weasel, who heard it from the mudblood, who was talking to Weasel junior, who is snogging Thomas, who heard it from Finnigan, who is apparently the only person that Potter's talking to. Anyway, Blaise said that Potter's got it for me, and he wants me. And he'll leave his room when I got to him. Sounds kind of interesting. So, right now I'm heading up to the tower those inane Gryffindorks live in to talk to him.

As I reach a portrait of a truly huge woman wearing a pink dress, the mudblood steps out, and I whip out my wand to point it at her. "Give me the password, mudblood."

"Umm." The mudblood seems to be blushing. Interesting. "Confundus."

"Thanks…" I struggle, and finally manage to spit it out. "Granger." I walk into the room. It really is a disgustingly cheery red. How horrible. How can the Gryffindorks live here? I walk over to a door that says boys, and I pass through it, going up a flight of stairs until I reach a door that says seventh years.

"SEVENTH YEARS!" It screams as I stand in front of it.

I open the door, and see a sight I never want to see again. Potter, tied to a bed, with a half naked Finnigan draped on top of him.

"Hey, Potter!" I call. Both he and Finnigan stare at me in shock. "I had something to say to you, but I can see you're busy, so, I won't waste your time. See you, Potter, and say hi to the Weasel for me." I storm out of the door, barely able to control my anger at being played.

Harry

One moment I'm flying with stars in my eyes, riding out the last of my release, the next I see Draco storm out of the dorm, leaving only the scent of vanilla behind.

"Oh, shit," I say, and immediately start tugging at my bonds. Seamus slides off the bed and turns to leave, but then thinks better of it and realises that he should release me from the bonds. Before I know it, I'm out in the corridor with only one thing on my mind. One Draco Malfoy. I don't care that I am clad only in jeans; I need to find Draco.

I head down to the dungeons, bumping people out of my way and not caring at all. I catch a glimpse of red hair and stop. Ron and Blaise. Blaise.

"Blaise!" I launch myself at the Italian boy, knocking my best friend out of the way. "Where's Draco?"

Draco

Why do I feel like this? I feel as if my heart has been ripped in two. I've lived for seventeen years almost devoid of any proper emotion, but one glimpse of him and that potato-loving paddy and I can't think straight.

Oh god. I sound like a mushy romance novel. But it's true. It's how I feel. And all because I saw Harry with friggin' sexy, fuck-me-because-I'm-hot, Finnigan.

I hate emotions. They really suck.

Harry

My eyes flitter around the quidditch pitch, seeking my Slytherin. It's cold. Very cold. I should've grabbed my cloak when I went back to the dorm room. At least I have a top on now. I see a flicker in the corner of my eye. I turn, and there he is, flying like a madman, chasing after the practice snitch. My breath crystallises in front of me, and I shiver. It's now or never.

I swing over my broom and lift into the air, my eyes never leaving Draco. The wind blusters even more up here, and he still hasn't caught the bloody snitch.

Grinning, I speed towards him, keeping out of his line of sight.

Draco

I love the feel of wind in my hair, and I love the thrill of looking for the snitch. That's what I'm doing right now. Chasing the snitch around the empty pitch. Suddenly, I notice movement and the next moment Potter's caught the snitch. Upon seeing him, I yell. "FUCK YOU, POTTER!"

I glide quickly to the ground, and land softly. I hear him land behind me, and I turn to him. I can feel the tears in my eyes, but I don't care. I run to him and start hitting him wherever I can.

He holds my wrists with his strong hands, and I struggle against him. Over and over I scream that I hate him, but he just looks at me with those green eyes. Eventually, he wraps his arms around me in a tight embrace. He whispers into my ear. "Shh. It's all right, Draco. It's okay, 'cos I love you."

What he says chills me to the bone.

Harry

I revel in the feeling of having him in my arms. Just the two of us, no-one else. The shared warmth dissipates the cold, and in this moment I can truly believe he is mine. Only mine.

"I love you, Draco. I don't care that your father is a death eater, or that you're a Malfoy. I love you as you are. Please, believe me."

He stiffens in my arms and roughly shoves against me, but I'm ready for it. I grab hold of his hand and twist him around, forcing him to stare at me in the eye.

"Draco…"

"Fucking hell, Potter. What's wrong with you?" He shouts at me, trying to throw my hand off. I hold on tight. "Let go of me!" He glares at me with those beautiful eyes of his, daring me to disobey. Merlin, those eyes. I nearly lose my grip, but manage to recover.

"No," I say, loudly and clearly. "I'm never going to let you go. Not now, not ever."

A growl erupts from his throat and I am thrown to the ground, with an angry Draco between my legs. He pins me down and forcefully kisses me, making me moan for more. He breaks away from me. "Is this what you want? To be taken by me like a common whore?" He spits at me.

I gasp for breath, still dazed from that kiss and the sudden onslaught of arousal. I swallow awkwardly. "No. I want more than that." I sit up slowly, my eyes never leaving his face. "I want you to torture me with those sinful lips of yours and make me beg for release. I want you to bind me and drive me insane while you fuck me, while never granting me satisfaction." I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around his neck.

"I want you to tear me in two as you drive in and out of me, and make me writhe and scream underneath you." I say against his lips. "I want to feel you fill me up with your seed and claim me in heart, mind, body and soul."

I let myself drown in the molten silver orbs, our breath playing between us, "I love you, Draco. Please give us a chance."

Draco

My thoughts have disappeared, just because he held me so tight. I mean, what was I thinking? Well, nothing, obviously. My thoughts HAVE disappeared after all. I really must think before I act.

I push him down roughly, whilst standing up, and yell harshly at him. "And what if I don't there to be an us? What if I just want you to leave me alone?" I step away, glaring at him. "Why can't you leave me alone?"

"Because I need you, Draco. You make the sun shine and the flowers grow, for me." His face is so plain. So honest. So pure.

I stare at him for a few moments, before making an indignant noise and turning to the side. "I don't like flowers."

I hear Potter sigh, and I look at him out of the corner of my eye. "Very well. What do you like?"

I grumble for a few seconds, before mumbling, "Kittens."

I see Harry's smirk, and I glare at him, still out of the corner of my eye. "OK. You make the sun shine and you give birth to kittens…"

WHAT THE FUCK?!

I turn to stare at him, and he seems to realise what he's said. He blushes profusely, before stammering out, "that's n-not what I meant. I-I meant that you give kittens life!" He's waving his arms frantically at me. It's really rather funny.

"Dig your hole, Potter, just keep on digging it." I smirk at him, showing my amusement at his panicky behaviour.

"I- well, I- I actually meant- well… I meant that all my kittens are there because of you."

I glare at him before doing something quite unexpected. Even to myself.

I laugh.

Harry

Of all the possible things I could've said, I just HAD to say that. At least he's laughing. That's good. Merlin… Kittens…

He's laughing his head off and rolling around on the ground like a mad man. I've seen Hermione lose herself like that before. She did it when she was told that Flitwick and Dumbledore were having a rather intimate relationship. She thought Fred and George were joking. When she found out it was true, she wouldn't look at the head table for a week.

I force myself to stop blushing, or at least try to. Rather hard when you're still being laughed at. His face is all flushed and for once his eyes are sparkling with untold mirth. Lovely.

I feel a warm presence in my hand and it tugs me forward. Snapping back into reality, I see my dear Draco, grass on his back and still grinning.

"Come," he says. "I want to take you somewhere."

Draco

"No." The word rings in my ears. "I will not come."

I can feel tears in my eyes, and I know I am going to cry again. I am such a spoilt little child, crying when I don't get what I want. I manage to choke out a single word between the beginnings of sobs. "Why?"

"Because." He pulls me tight against him, and speaks against my mouth. "I want my answer, Draco."

Being this close to him is not good for my thinking powers. "And… mmm… which… ahh… question… would that… be?" What he's now doing to my ear is not good for my sentence structure, either.

"My question about us," he breathes into my ear.

"Ahh… that one." I really shouldn't get distracted like this. "Well, I've been considering it for the past five minutes…"

"And?"

"…Well, it's worth considering."

He's started grinning at me. "Does that mean yes?"

I shrug. Figure I might as well get it over with. "It does."

"WOO HOO!!" He yells at me, before picking me up around my legs, lifting me high above his head. It's very uncomfortable. "I love you, Draco!"

As the sound of his voice fades away into the distance, and the snow begins to fall around us, I look up at the sky. I stick out my tongue, catching a snowflake on it, before looking back down at Harry. MY Harry. And as the snow continues to fall, I decide. I really don't hate winter. After all, it brought me him.

Kireshai would like to say: that I deserve a lot of praise for typing up the entire fucking thing, and that Serpiens is one sick puppy with a twisted imagination, and I refuse to work with her ever again. Also, that there will be no requests for a sequel, because, THERE WILL NEVER, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, BE A SEQUEL, THANKYOU VERY MUCH!!! And lastly, I appreciate your reviews.

Serpiens would like to say: Damn right I have a twisted imagination. I blame Kireshai. And society, as per usual. Everyone, give the cookies to our lovely Kireshai-sama for the typing up the, quote, "…entire fucking thing…" and yes, I agree, there will be no sequel, I'm sorry to say. I'll need another year to build up my reserves of twisted imagination before another fic can be produced. Unless we started a fic about Draco and Harry being in a transvestite bar, in leather, and one of them was a stripper…but that's another story. And I am not a puppy. I am a genius. G-E-N-I-U-S. Genius. Get that right, Kireshai. And I so type better than you. And of course, our dear readers, all reviews will be appreciated, printed and framed because reviews are GOOD. hint hint You may type faster than me, but your grammar aint worth shit.