This little story was written for the Hermione's Nook Only One Bed fest over on AO3. I've edited it slightly to bump it down from the Explicit version you'll find on AO3, so if you want the smuttier edition without the fade to black, find me on AO3 under the name Janieohio.

Title: Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Rating: M

Category: M/M

Relationship: Draco/Harry

Character: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy

Additional tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, There was only one bed!, Auror Partners, Geographical Isolation, Sexual Tension, Draco Saving Harry, Light Angst and Humor, Internal Monologue, Implied Sexual Content, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Hermione's Nook There Was Only One Bed Fest 2021, Facebook: Hermione's Nook, Sharing a Bed

Word count: 5955

Summary:

Draco should probably be freaking out. He's stranded in a frozen wilderness with no wand, no supplies, and no way home. But he isn't freaking out, and it's totally NOT because he has his Auror partner with him. Not even a little bit. Or maybe a little bit. But probably not. Now, if only that little cabin they found had more than one bed.

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

by JanieOhio

Normally, when travelling by Portkey, Draco Malfoy gently landed on his feet, keeping his hair meticulously styled and his designer clothing immaculate. In other words, he was the embodiment of poise and grace.

Unfortunately, normal hadn't really been the status quo in the time he'd been Auror partners with Harry Potter.

And so it was that Draco's nose was currently pressed into the mud as a large mass—most likely his aforementioned partner—lay across his back. "Fuck," Draco muttered into the mud. He spat out a wad of wet, frigid dirt and pushed up, making his back-cancer-mass fall with an unceremonious thud.

"Oh, God," Harry moaned, making Draco roll his eyes. For an ex-Gryffindor, Harry was such a drama queen.

Draco pushed to his knees, pulling the edge of his robe up to wipe the thin layer of mud from his face. He looked around, quickly taking in their situation. Other than Harry, who was currently looking a bit green around the edges, he appeared to be alone.

Completely alone.

Alone, as in there-might-not-be-another-human-for-miles alone.

Instead, they were at the edge of an ancient forest. The height and type of the trees, combined with the biting chill of the wind, convinced Draco they were not in Britain. He doubted they were anywhere in the British Isles, for that matter. While the forest was behind them, in front of them lay a great expanse of frozen prairie, bordered in the distance by equally icy mountains. Maybe somewhere in Scandinavia?

And here they were with just their heavy, Auror winter robes and no supplies. Oh, and they were without their wands, seeing as how they'd both so unwittingly (and willingly) disarmed themselves before being whisked away. So, yes, as he'd said before, Fuck.

"Potter." He reached down a hand to pull his partner up. It wasn't difficult; Harry had been sitting quietly, taking in his surroundings at the same time Draco had.

"It's going to get cold tonight," Harry said, eying the trees. "We need to find shelter. No one knows we'd even gone to the old woman's house. I don't think we can count on anyone even realising we're missing until morning."

Draco nodded, his mind already spinning through their options. He and Harry had worked together for three years now and, as much as Draco hated to admit it, their minds seemed to work in parallel, often using one another to jump to the next logical conclusion.

"You can't cast wandlessly, can you?" Harry asked, looking hopeful.

Draco only raised an eyebrow. Who did Harry think Draco was? Dumbledore?

Harry sighed and narrowed his eyes at the trees, and Draco could already tell he wasn't going to like where this was going. "Yeah, didn't think so. Look, we need shelter. I think we have about two hours before we lose the light, so that should give us enough time to build something out of the pine boughs."

"Pine boughs." Draco wondered if the expression on his face matched the scepticism in his voice. Probably so, because when Harry turned to look at him, he just raised an eyebrow. It was a look that Draco saw in the mirror often enough, and it was almost amusing to see how Harry had picked it up.

"Yeah. Pine boughs." His lips twitched up a little at the sides, which never boded well for Draco. "Pine is thick and will block the wind and snow."

Draco prayed for patience. "And we're not even going to look for an actual structure? There could be a barn or cottage just around the bend. We're just going to give up before we start?"

Harry narrowed his eyes and his lips pulled tight; any sign of amusement had fled. "What if we don't find anything and then it's dark?"

"What if we do and then we don't freeze?" Draco shot back.

Harry growled, and that did nothing to the butterflies in Draco's stomach. Really.

"Fine." Harry glared up at the sky. "One hour of searching and then we work on building something. I think we'll be getting snow tonight, and I don't fancy being out in it."

"Great!" Draco said, clapping his hands together. Even he didn't believe the cheerful sound of his voice. "Wonderful. So let's move before I freeze my bloody balls off." He started walking into the trees, grateful for the decrease in the wind as he left the open plain.

He didn't even turn back to see if Harry was behind him. He always was.

Forty-five minutes later, Draco saw it.

They'd hardly paused as they walked, bickering to pass the time. Harry'd only had to catch Draco from tripping over a tree branch twice, and if his hand lingered on Draco's elbow each time, it was surely just to make sure it was steady, right?

But either way, the heavy cover of the trees meant not much snow had made it to the forest floor. This minor blessing allowed them to cover what must have been several miles before the thin path they'd been following broadened up into a small clearing.

"A cabin." Draco turned and smiled at Harry. Okay, maybe it was more of a gloat, but it was so much better than pine boughs.

Harry grunted, but his eyes seem to sparkle in the dim light pouring into the frozen meadow.

"This is so much better than pine boughs," Draco pointed out, in case Harry had missed that point. He was pretty dense, so it was possible.

"Yes, Draco, it's so much better." Harry stopped next to Draco, letting their shoulders brush. "Good job," he said quietly.

Draco smiled and ignored the way his heart began to race due to his vigorous exercise. "Thank you."

The cabin looked to be in good condition, but it was clearly unused, with the windows boarded up and no footprints in the surrounding snow. "Let's see if there are any supplies, then we can get a fire started."

Harry made his way to the cabin, brushing the snow away from the door and pulling it open.

"Do you know how to build one without a wand?" Draco continued, following him and waiting in the doorway when Harry didn't say anything. It couldn't be that hard to build a fire, could it?

"Yeah, I spent seventh year camping, remember? Hermione made sure I knew how to do everything without magic, just in case." He stepped back out and jerked his head for Draco to follow him.

The cabin was dark, with only the dim light from the winter evening pouring in through the open doorway. Harry stepped to a fireplace and let out a sigh of relief. "There's wood and matches. Someone left it all set for the next time they returned, I reckon. Look to see if there are any candles or a torch or something."

"A torch?" Draco checked the walls. The place seemed a bit small for that, being only one room and all. Torches seemed like they'd be overkill.

"Yeah, a handheld Muggle light that runs on batteries. They look like a tube with clear glass or plastic at one end. If there is one, it'd be in a drawer or cupboard, most likely."

Draco scanned the room, finding an old cedar chest at the end of a small, comfortable-looking bed covered in a thick coverlet, but the chest only held more blankets. There were tin buckets near the door and a table in the middle of the room, but little else except for some cooking tools near the hearth, an axe on the wall, and a small pile of wood in the corner. Everything seemed to be covered in dust, cementing Draco's original opinion that the place hadn't been used in ages.

"Nothing," he said, coming back and hunching down next to where Harry was catching some little sticks on fire by swiping them across the brick. "Why are you putting the twigs on the bottom? Shouldn't they go on top since they'll catch fire faster?"

Harry shook his head. "Opposite, actually. They'll catch fire first, yes, but then they'll burn up and catch the wood above them. This wood is pretty dry, so it should burn easily enough."

And it was as if Harry's words were an incantation because the small flame caught the wood and, within seconds, a decent-sized fire lit the room. "Wow."

"Yeah, the wood was even dryer than I realised."

Draco got up and closed the door since they no longer needed the light as Harry explored the room. The light of the fire cast a low glow and reflected off his glasses, obscuring his green eyes, but his tight mouth betrayed his thoughts.

"We're safe and warm," Draco pointed out. "We'll be fine."

Harry began to pace, reminding Draco of a caged tiger at a zoo. "I know," he ground out. "I just hate not having a way home."

Draco walked over and sat down on the side of the bed, and he closed his eyes, letting out a little groan as he sunk into the mattress. A choking sound from across the room brought him back to their situation. "You okay, Potter?"

"Yeah, just, my throat's a little dry." Harry's face looked flushed in the firelight. "We probably should gather some snow to melt or something so we have something to drink. If there's a well around here, it's likely frozen."

Draco's stomach growled at the idea of even a drink of water, and he couldn't keep the whine from his voice. "Wish there was something to eat. I fucking skipped lunch."

"We both did." Harry sat down on the floor next to the fire and rested his arm across his upturned knee. "I just feel stupid."

"It was a promising lead," Draco protested, falling back so he was staring at the ceiling. "We've been waiting to talk to the aunt for weeks. She's a sweet old lady, and we dropped our guard. We had no way of knowing the letter was a Portkey."

"Sneaky fucker. 'Oh, boys, let me take your cloaks and I'll just Summon your wands while I'm at it,'" Harry mimicked with a frighteningly accurate impression. "Have some tea and look at this letter and I'll send you to Greenland for a nice little visit."

"If it helps, I think this might actually be Finland, given the terrain and the cabin and such."

"Even better," Harry said with a little huff, then rounded on Draco with his eyes narrowed. "Why are you taking this all so well?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Draco demanded, rolling onto his side so he could see his partner.

"Nothing!" Harry looked a little guilty and held his hands up, palms out, then dropped them and grinned sheepishly. "It's just that you're…rather…particular. I'd expect that being in an old cabin for the foreseeable future would make you, uh, angrier."

Draco only glared. And yeah, well, maybe Harry was right and normally Draco would be pissier about the entire thing, but he was hungry and he was tired and there was this delightful bed calling his name.

The sound of the door slamming startled him and he jerked up, several blankets falling off his shoulders. He hadn't even realised he was drifting off to sleep, but Harry had evidently had time to cover him up, leave, gather snow in buckets, then return. Setting down the buckets by the fire, Harry turned to Draco. "So, uh, how are we doing this? Shall we take turns keeping watch?"

Draco glanced at the door where a large plank was slotted through a bracket, acting as a lock. "I think we're fine. Just go to sleep."

Harry cleared his throat. "There's only one bed."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"Are you saying we can share?" Harry asked with an odd look on his face that Draco couldn't decipher in the dim light.

Draco looked down at the relatively narrow bed and imagined fitting two grown men. His pulse increased again, but he was too tired to worry about it. "Hardly."

Rolling his eyes, Harry sighed. "Fine." He moved to the chest of blankets and pulled several out, then began to make himself a pallet by the fire.

"You're just going to sleep on the floor?"

"Won't be the first time and unless you have a better suggestion, it'll have to do. Can I at least have a pillow?"

Draco tossed the only pillow at Harry, then burrowed back down under the blankets. He felt just a little bit guilty, but then the sounds of the crackling fire and Harry's even breathing mixed with his exhaustion and he knew no more.

It was freezing. Draco's nose felt as though it were going to fall off, and though his body was warm under the multitude of blankets, he could tell that the temperature of the little cabin had drastically dropped.

"Harry," he said into the dark and silent room.

He waited. Harry's light snores were missing, and the fire was nearly out.

"Fuck." Sitting up, he brought one of the blankets around his shoulders. "Harry, where the fuck are you? It's freezing. Throw some more wood on the fire."

Nothing.

He got out of bed and pulled on his boots to protect his feet from the cold floor. When did I take off my boots? He stomped over closer to the smouldering hearth, and in the dim light, he could see that Harry's makeshift bedroll was empty. The pile of wood that had looked so welcoming earlier was completely gone.

Shit.

Draco moved to the door and the plank was pulled back. Harry had obviously gone outside, and given the state of the woodpile and the missing axe from the wall, his intention was clear. The only question was, how long had he been gone?

Draco opened the door and gasped.

It had snowed while they'd slept, and there was only a minor indentation of a set of footprints moving away from the cabin's door, leading off to the small trees to the left. The temperature had fallen after dark, and the silence of the night sent a chill up his back. Draco pulled the heavy blanket over his head and ventured out.

It took longer than he'd thought it would, each step difficult in the knee-deep snow. It'd only been dusting the ground when they'd arrived, but the snow continued to fall and the blowing wind caused drifts this close to the cabin.

"Potter?" he called out.

Still nothing.

His chest began to tighten in panic. Sure, he'd been calm before when they'd arrived in this godforsaken wilderness, but he'd had Harry with him so he knew it'd be okay. Harry, who people would be looking for. Harry, who would take care of Draco, who would make sure that everything turned out all right.

Harry.

"Potter!"

Close to a large stump, about twenty yards from the cabin, lay a dark shape that could only be his partner. Draco tried to hurry over but could only hobble through the deep snow. When he drew close, his stomach clenched.

Harry was laying in the snow, unconscious. A trickle of blood appeared to have dried—or frozen?—on Harry's brow and his glasses were gone.

Draco fell to his knees next to him and it took every ounce of his Auror training to ignore the panic boiling within him. "Potter, wake up." He reached out and Harry's cold skin turned Draco's bowels to water. "Oh gods, Potter," he gasped, his eyes burning, "wake up. Please."

He ran his hands over the other man's neck, seeking desperately for a pulse. The seconds passed like hours, but finally… There. It was slow, too slow, but it was a pulse.

"Have to get you inside and get you warm. Merlin, Potter, what the fuck were you doing? Why didn't you wake me to help?"

Draco struggled to get him up. If only he had a wand… but he didn't, and he'd make do. He had no choice. He managed to get Harry up and over his shoulder, and fuck if the man didn't weigh a bloody ton. Who knew he was this solid?

Okay, Draco knew Harry was this solid. Hadn't he admired that solid arse a time or two in the showers after sparring, even if he wouldn't let himself admit it? Lusting after your partner, especially when he was Harry Potter, just wasn't done. But still, he'd known. And now that arse was inches from his face.

Stop it! There's no time for this. He needs you to fix this.

What felt like hours later—though was likely only minutes—Draco made it back to the cabin. The residual heat from the fire now felt glorious compared to the outside, but it wasn't going to be enough to fix Harry. Pulling the wet blanket Harry had used as a cloak from his frigid body, Draco dropped Harry onto the bed and assessed the situation.

Okay, it had appeared outside that Harry had managed to get at least a bit of wood chopped before whatever tragedy befell him had occurred. He should probably get that and build up the fire again before doing anything else.

Grabbing the wet blanket, Draco hurried outside, moving faster now through the path he'd created. He loaded the impressive pile of wood onto the blanket and pulled it back inside the cabin, then shut the door tightly behind him. The first few pieces of wood sizzled on the hot coals as the snow and wet evaporated, but the fire began to pick up and the light flickered around the room once again.

"Right," Draco muttered, running a hand through his hair. Next was the bed. He moved the table out of the way, then approached the bed where Harry lay unconscious. It took everything in him, but he managed to pull the heavy bed across the room, inch by tedious inch, until it sat only a few feet from the fire.

Draco could see, then, the blue tint of Harry's lips and the shallow breaths coming from them. He needed to get him warm.

He closed his eyes and thought about the survival classes they'd taken as trainees. He had to get Potter out of his wet clothes and warm him from his centre outward. Blanket, general warmth of the room, and body heat were all important.

"I've got you, Harry," Draco muttered, pealing off Harry's robes, then his trousers and jumper. He took a deep breath before starting on his own. "Just don't kill me when you wake up."

The chill of the room was still biting, so Draco crawled under the thick blankets and wrapped himself around Harry's frigid body.

"Come on, Harry. Hang in there." He held Harry close—Harry's back to Draco's chest—and begged whatever deities or spirits that might be listening to make this right.

It was a long night. It couldn't have been much past midnight when he'd first found Harry, and he forced himself to stay awake, unwilling to let the fire die out or for Harry to—well, to let anything happen to Harry.

As morning approached, Harry's body slowly relaxed into the heat, his breathing became deeper and more even, and his pulse returned to normal. He still felt cold to Draco's touch, but by the time the light peeked through the cracks around the boarded-up windows, Draco knew Harry was likely going to be okay. He'd begun to mutter in his sleep, so even Draco's fear of Harry's head wound was dampened.

Draco finally relaxed, his arms around Harry's waist, and fell asleep.

Draco was in a steam room, the sweat dripping from his brow. The stress of the day was rolling off him, and the smell of the pine benches mixed with the faint odour of sweat. He sat back, his arms spread across the bench, his head back with his eyes closed.

"Draco," Harry said from his seat next to him, and Draco had never heard him sound so sexy. His voice was rough and only inches from Draco's ear. It tickled the hairs on his neck and made him shiver.

"Mmm…" Draco moaned. "That feels good."

Harry whimpered. "Yeah. You feel really good too." A hand ran up Draco's chest and flicked at his nipple. Draco's hips thrust automatically, which should have been into open, steamy air, but instead found a hard, toned, warm body.

Draco thrust again. Harry was closer now, running his tongue across Draco's collar bone. Dream-Harry must have known this was one of Draco's favourite spots because, holy fuck, was it good. "Yes," Draco hissed, revelling in the feeling of the hairy legs entwined with his own.

"Draco, wake up. You feel amazing against me, but we can't do this if you're not awake."

"Please—"

Harry moaned, making the last of Draco's blood fill his groin. He was so hard it ached, and there was Harry not inches from his him. He could feel it. So close. "Draco, open your eyes, damn it."

But he didn't want to. He wanted to stay right here, ready to be with Harry. It was everything he never knew he wanted, and if he stayed asleep, he could almost have it. Harry's taste on his tongue, Harry's body under his, in his.

Harry's mouth caught Draco's and pulled him into a kiss, Harry's hot tongue slipping between Draco's lips. He felt so good and tasted like…morning breath?

Draco froze, keeping his eyes closed as he quickly reevaluated his situation. He'd had many a wet dream in his twenty-eight years of life, but never had he dreamt of a man kissing him with morning breath. He just wouldn't do that.

Which meant…

His eyes flew open. Staring back was a pair of verdantly green eyes that were definitely not in his dream.

Draco shifted slightly, pushing his ridiculously engorged self against—

Oh, Merlin, it was against Harry's.

The corner of Harry's lips twitched, but he didn't move otherwise. "Draco," Harry said, his voice low like in the dream, "I really want this, but if you don't, it's okay. I won't be mad. We can pretend it never happened."

Harry's words made Draco's hips twitch. Wonderful.

Harry's eyelids dropped at the movement, and Draco couldn't resist. He thrust slightly, just like in his dream.

"Draco," Harry whispered, his eyes fluttering like the butterflies in Draco's stomach, "please. Yes or no?"

As if there could be any other answer. "Yes," Draco said, and he wasn't sure what all he was agreeing to, but it didn't matter because the answer was yes to anything Harry wanted. Sex, relationship, friendship, whatever.

Yes. He wanted it.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Draco cut him off with his lips, eager to pick up where they'd left off. Harry seemed of the same mind because he didn't pull away, instead drawing Draco closer, their chests touching.

It'd been months since Draco had felt another man's body against his own, and it was better than he remembered. Gone were Harry's frigid limbs from the night. His neck was hot underneath Draco's lips, his skin soft and alive and overwhelming.

Pine and sweat. That'd been what Draco had smelled in his dream. It was all Harry, and it surrounded him as Harry's face buried itself in Draco's neck and Harry's hands found Draco's arse. It was all so much more than those other men and Draco could barely think, he could only move and touch and smell and taste.

Harry's hand moved to Draco's hip and paused at the waistband of his pants, the only thing either of them was wearing. Draco moved his hand to Harry's, squeezed, then started pulling at Harry's shorts, urging him on.

Harry grinned and within moments they'd both divested themselves of the last remaining barriers.

"Draco," Harry murmured, and there was something in his voice that made Draco's heart race the way it had when he'd found Harry outside in the snow. He didn't have time to dissect it, however, because Harry's rough hand covered him, drew him against himself, and he began to move. He wished there was more than the faint light from the window and door cracks because his eyes wanted to see every inch of the man he had in his bed.

When they finally finished, both sated, Draco fell back onto bed. He groaned, leaning back onto the pillow, but the small size of the bed meant that he couldn't go very far and they were still touching the entire length of his left side.

Harry grabbed his shorts off the floor and used them to wipe the remnants from his chest and legs, giving Draco a little grin when he realised he was being watched. Without saying a word, he did the same for the mess covering Draco, making soft, gentle swipes before dropping his forehead onto Draco's stomach and letting out a long breath.

"Is there any water left in the buckets?" Draco asked, attempting to keep his voice even. Inside, he was panicking, anxiety coursing through his veins as he imagined all the ways he'd just screwed up the only good relationship in his life. But his voice was cool and quiet, composed.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I just have to get up the balls to get out of this bed. It's not too bad in here, but I imagine it'll feel worse when I lift the blankets."

"I'll do it," Draco heard himself say, and he wanted to slap whatever it was that made those words come out of his mouth. Because in what universe would he volunteer such a thing? But then they kept coming. And oh, yeah. "You should probably stay here and keep warm. Who knows what kind of damage you took from last night."

Harry moved out of the way as Draco sat up. "How did I get back in here? How long was I out?"

Wrapping himself in the blanket, Draco pulled Harry's disgusting pants off the coverlet and hurried to the fireplace. He threw a few more logs on the fire, then dipped the pants in the tin bucket, the water almost too hot from its proximity to the heat. It felt glorious, and he took the opportunity to splash some water on his face while he was at it.

Ringing out the shorts, he hurried back to the bed and dove under the covers. His body automatically curled into Harry's.

"Here," he said, shoving the shorts at Harry. "Don't want the Savior getting crusty."

Harry snorted but began to use them on Draco first. "You never answered my question. What happened? We were out of wood and I was worried it'd get too cold, so I went out to get some more. I remember chopping a bit, and then I woke up here, with you." He cleared his throat and his green eyes suddenly looked sad, his voice quieter. "I know you wouldn't have put me in your bed if it wasn't an emergency, so what happened?"

Something was bothering Draco about Harry's words, but he ignored it and thought back to the night before. "Something must have hit you on the head. I've no idea what, but you were bleeding and passed out."

Harry raised his hand to his forehead and winced.

"When I woke up, the cabin was freezing and you were gone. I found you." His throat felt thick and his eyes burned, so he sat up, turning his face from Harry. The memory of those first moments made his stomach turn.

"And then what?" Harry's voice was deep and solemn, as though he sensed Draco's reticence.

"I thought you were dead. You were cold to the touch and almost stiff."

A hand on Draco's shoulder had him turning back and looking at Harry, but he couldn't keep the emotions under wrap. It was still too raw.

"I thought you were dead, Harry."

"I'm okay. I'm right here."

Harry pulled Draco back down onto the pillow and nestled his head onto Draco's shoulder.

"I'm right here." He let them sit in silence for several minutes, but Harry wasn't one to let things go. It was what made him a great Auror. "So you brought me inside and warmed me up. You let me sleep in your bed and used your body heat to help me."

"Yeah," Draco said, and he barely recognized his own voice. "I made sure to keep the fire going and kept an eye on you. Cleaned you up a bit, kept you warm."

"Thank you," Harry said, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

"Yes, well, it looks terrible when an Auror loses a partner. Have to keep them alive and well and all that nonsense."

"Draco," Harry said, letting his hand trail down Draco's arm. "About this morning."

And here it came, the words Draco had been dreading. It was a mistake. We can't do it again. It was just the heat of the moment. Harry might even make a joke about the pun.

"I know you wouldn't normally have done this, that you don't really think of me this way, but…" Harry took a deep breath as if gathering his courage. "But it's something I've thought about a lot, and I really would like to do it again sometime."

Draco could hardly breathe. Again?

"If you don't want to, that's okay. I'll understand. I mean, I'd prefer it if you wanted to date me, but I don't want to pressure you or make you worry about things being weird if you don't like me like that. It's just, I'd never thought you'd actually want to do the things we just did, and if you did, maybe you'd also want to—"

Draco crushed his mouth to Harry's, cutting off the rambling nonsense of this ridiculous man. "Potter," he said when they came up for air, "you're ridiculous."

Harry grinned. "Harry."

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, I'm Draco."

Harry gave him a playful nudge of his nose. "You called me Harry earlier. I really liked it."

"Fine," Draco answered, rolling his eyes. "Harry."

He leant in and continued the kiss, then trailed it over Harry's scruffy jaw until he found the man's ear to nibble on.

"How long until someone comes looking for us, do you think?"

Harry moaned. "Hermione will track us rather quickly, and I was supposed to meet her for lunch today. So, shortly after noon, I reckon?"

"Mmm," Draco murmured as Harry tilted his head, giving Draco more access. "Harry," he said.

"Yeah?" Harry asked on a gasp.

"I want to date you, you daft prick." He dipped his tongue into the curve of Harry's neck.

"Good. And can we do more of this?"

Draco imagined all the things he wanted to do to Harry and pulled back, unable to keep the smile from his face. He could practically feel the weight of Harry on his tongue already, and anticipation ran through him. "Definitely. In fact, I was thinking that we could—"

"Harry? Draco?" A voice from outside the cabin had Harry letting out a low groan.

"Fuck. She has terrible timing."

Draco dropped backwards and grabbed at his pants on the floor, pulling them under the blanket to slip them back on. "At least she didn't just burst in."

The door flew open. "Harry!" Weasley shouted, the bright sun at his back rendering his face invisible. "Are you okay?"

"Harry!" Hermione gasped. "Oh, Merlin. We thought you were missing. But we'll just leave—"

"No!" Harry and Draco both yelled.

"I mean, yes, go outside, please," Harry said in a hurry, "because I really don't want you in here while we get dressed, thank you very much, but don't go anywhere."

Draco wanted to crawl under the blanket, but he couldn't possibly show that kind of weakness to Weasley of all people. "Ron," he said cheerfully, deciding in the moment what would most rile his partner's best friend. It seemed to work with just that one word, as Weasley stiffened. "It was so lovely of you to join us, but as we're naked under here after I did unspeakable things to your dear Harry and I don't want your wife swooning at my delectable body, can you please step out so we can dress?"

Harry choked back a laugh beside him, his hand finding Draco's under the blanket.

"Harry?" Weasley asked, his eyes wide and his brows drawn.

"What he said." Harry smirked and winked at Hermione.

She rolled her eyes with a grin and pulled her husband back to the door. "Ten minutes, Harry. It's freezing out here. Oh, and here." She laid their wands out on the table. "Bernadine James brought them to the Auror department this morning and confessed to disarming you both and sending you away. She wasn't sure where she sent you as she'd purchased the Portkey from Mundungous Fletcher, but she did want to apologise for inconveniencing you. She's ready to tell you whatever she can about her neighbours' clandestine activities."

"Can we talk about this later? I'd like to get dressed," Draco reminded everyone.

"You were disarmed by an old woman?" Weasley cackled. "Bloody hell. Wait until I tell George. This is amazing."

"Out!" Harry yelled, and the door closed behind the arsehole and his wife.

Draco stood, fastening his trousers and pulling his jumper over his head. He looked up as Harry tossed his wand to him.

"Lumos," Draco said, and the light poured through the room.

Harry looked up and smiled, his own leg half in a pair of trousers, his bare arse hanging out enticingly.

"You have your wand back. You could have cleaned and dried your shorts."

Harry grinned, shrugged, and wiggled his arse. "I know."

"Harry? Draco? It's freezing!"

"Coming!" Harry yelled back, grabbing his boots and sitting on the bed. "So, are we good?"

"We're good, Potter," Draco said, sitting down next to his partner.

"Harry," Harry reminded him, bumping his shoulder with his own.

"Harry," he agreed. "And for what it's worth? The reason I didn't let you in my bed last night wasn't that I didn't want you there. It was because I wanted you there too much."

"Oh," Harry said softly before turning and threading his hands into Draco's hair, pulling him closer.

"Malfoy!" Weasley yelled.

"I hate your best friend."

"Right now, so do I." Harry reached out a hand to pull Draco up and to the door.

Draco paused, turned back to the room and lifted his wand, then hesitated. Harry squeezed his hand.

"Go ahead. Put it back how it was. We'll rent a real cabin next time."

Draco smiled and waved his wand.

Next time.

Finis