Two: Snow
Harry comes in from the blizzard, coated in a layer of white fluff, shivering. Pulling his coat off and laying it on a nearby chair, he goes up to his dormintory to change.
Locking the door behind him, Harry starts taking off the rest of his cold, wet clothes, throwing them on the floor carelessly, when he hears a voice.
'They aren't going to dry properly if you leave them like that, you know.' He looks for the source of the voice, but there is none. Or so it seems...Draco pulls the Invisibility Cloak off of himself, shuddering as he does so because damn, the room is cold. He watches Harry's expression change from horror to amusement as he walks towards the bed where Draco is laid out, wearing the cloak around his midriff and nothing else it seems.
'I should have guessed. How did you get up here, huh?' Harry asks, smiling because this is the best surprise he can think of. He's only wearing his boxers now, and as he flops down on the bed next to his lover he knows that Draco is eyeing them with contempt.
'Not even your common room's portrait is immune to my charms, it seems...anyway, we have more pressing matters to attend to. Those boxers look a bit damp to me, maybe you should take them off.' Harry laughs and meets silvery eyes laced with mischief.
'I don't think the snow did that, but as you wish.'
They come off.
An hour later, they're laying on the bed. Draco's lazy, sated smile is all Harry cares about, and he decides that this is how they are going to spend every Christmas.