DISCLAIMER: I don't own them. I don't really own the setting. I own the scene. That's all.

Author's notes: This has slashiness. No likey, no read-y.

It's now 5am. I started this at about 4:30. This is another one of my lovely early morning creations. I haven't read it over again to find out if it's any good. I just wrote it. And now I'm off to bed. Please read and review and tell me what you think. And yes, I realize that it is extremely short. It's just a snapshot, lovies. Embrace. Enjoy. Review.

The Beauty of the Cold

By Katie of Gryffindor

He stood by the lakeshore, staring at the smooth glassy surface. The ice was at least an inch thick, perfect for skating. But he didn't want to skate. He just wanted to look. He stared around himself, taking in the sheer beauty of the near-monochromatic world in which he stood. The ice glinted up at him. Moonlight was winking at him through its reflection in the lake's surface.

A slow smile spread across frozen, chapped lips. It was a beautiful place. A beautiful home. He made sure that he enjoyed it as much as he could. The beauty was only intensified by the cold winter weather.

He looked past the lake to the Forbidden Forest, several hundred yards away. Even from where he stood, the frosty branches gleamed. The ice was everywhere in the forest, decorating every limb.

He gazed up. Over his head was a would-be darkened sky. Tonight, no stars were visible. No moon. Only clouds. Cotton-candy clouds that held no flavor, no color.

He shifted his eyes to the ground beneath his feet. Soft snow blanketed the earth. The snow was beautiful.

He let out a slow sigh, watching as his own breath became a part of the whiteness of the world. He smiled, knowing that even he could contribute to the beauty of the cold.

His eyes went to one more sight. This one, however, was held within his mind's eye. He saw the sleek silvery hair. The molten silver eyes. The near-white skin. And he smiled.

He knew why he loved the cold so much. Because the cold always brought him to one place. One person. One feeling.

The eyes in his mind smiled for him, and all at once, color sprang into his soul. He saw the rose of the his lips. The pink of his cheeks. The faintest blue creeping into those smiling eyes.

As soon as the color touched him, warmth began to envelope him, penetrating every cell.

The warmth was not only because of the sudden invasion of colorization. The warmth was because of the surge inside him caused by the smile. The smile could paint a room with its beauty. Paint it more completely than the snow painted his world now.

He examined his surroundings with a smile. He never could truly fathom the reasons behind his actions. He knew only one thing.

He needed to find the beauty of the cold before his heart could ever find warmth.

He had finally discovered the beauty of the cold. And now his soul flowed with an overabundance of heat.

Harry Potter turned back to the castle to search for the beauty of Draco Malfoy so he could once again be filled with the heat of love.