A/N: This is slash. You don't like it, you know what to do, and the answer isn't flaming. This fic spans over several seasons, because I love seasonal countries since I don't live in one. All those who do, what's it like in autumn? or winter? because I haven't experienced either.
seasonal
[s p r i n g]
The squid in the lake was waving its tentacles quietly above the surface, making the water splish.
Harry sat and watched it wave enthusiatstically to a private audience, feeling like a pervert staring through the blinds at an undressing neighbour.
From the Slytherin common room, Draco watched the squid wave to Harry, feeling guilty, as if he was not privy to something like a stupid squid waving to, of all people, Harry Potter.
He turned away from the window, and watched the less disconcerting, familiar sight of Slytherins mocking a first-year. The first-year was huddled in a corner, arms over his head for protection, snuffling like a blind dog and sometimes choking on his own snot, whilst the Slytherins ridiculed the sparse patch of acne he had on his left cheek. The patch of acne now had tears alternately drying and running over it.
[s u m m e r]
Draco had been paired with the incompetent Neville Longbottom for Study of Magical Creatures. Neville had managed to provoke a Blast-Ended Skrewt and it had blown a plume of scarlet, knocking Draco to the ground.
In the space between lessons, Draco went into the toilet along the corridor to Potions. He stared at his grass-stained, sweat-soaked face and wet his hands, smoothing back his blonde hair.
"Just give me something," Draco sang to himself in the mirror. "I'll take nothing..."
He glanced around, idly. He leaned over to splash his face with water.
"It keeps on pumping, it still needs something, just g--"
Harry walked into the toilet. For a moment, Draco stared at him, mouth trailing on "g".
"What are you staring at, Potter?" he fired harshly, brushing past him, exiting.
Harry wondered if he should have told Draco that he sang really, really well.
[a u t u m n]
"You never really told me the rest of that song," said Harry.
"What song?" asked Draco.
He tilted up Harry's chin to meet Harry's mouth with his own, while the song played in his head.
There was a crumpling of tinder-dry leaves, signalling the arrival of someone on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Draco's song abruptly ended in his head, and Harry didn't even bother to glance up before darting away.
Blaise Zabini emerged. "Our Quiddtich team's looking for you," he said. "They want to train."
"Blaise, do you know this song? It goes like this..." said Draco, and hummed the tune.
"It's a Muggle song, isn't it?" said Blaise.
"So?" Draco asked, hand raking through the dead leaves on the ground. "It's a nice song."
"Are you coming for training or not?" asked Blaise, as if he hadn't heard anything at all.
[w i n t e r]
"It's going to snow," said Harry.
"Yes."
"Will you tell me the rest of the song?" asked Harry.
"No," said Draco, as the first snowflakes of the season caught themselves on their eyelashes, staining everything an icy white.
Then Draco pursed his lips in realization, and asked, "How did you know I was lying?"
Harry shrugged and smiled, his lips cracking in the frost. Draco dusted the snowflakes off his nose as the bell rang across the grounds.
"I need to meet with Professor Snape," said Draco shortly, getting up and leaving.
Ron walked over with his hands in his pockets. He tapped Harry on the shoulder.and said, "We need to go for lessons, Harry."
Either the snowflakes on Harry's eyelashes had melted from Harry's heat, or Harry was crying icy trails of moisture.
"Is it always this way?" asked Ron, who knew.
"Yes," Harry said, the clear liquid spilling down his cheeks. More snowflakes caught themselves on Harry's eyelashes.
"It's falling," said Ron, looking up into the colourless sky from which the snow was faling heavily from. His voice was deep with regret and sadness.
"I know it's falling," replied Harry, wiping his eyes.
I've been pissing in the wind
I chanced a foolish grin
and dribbled on my chin
Now the ground shifts beneath my feet
The faces that I greet never know my name
Just give me something
I'll take nothing
Just give me something
I'll take nothing
Now the drought is crippled by the rain
That hammers on my pain
We lose ourselves again
But all we need
is to find a place to look
Our worm is on the hook
A love which dangles free
Let's watch it swim
against the waters flow
In doubt the courage grows
with no guarantee
And so it goes
the moral to this tale
As tortoise catches snail
A strong heart will prevail
It keeps on pumping
It still needs something
Just give it something
To keep it pumping
And I'll take nothing
Just give me something.
--Badly Drawn Boy, Pissing in the Wind
NOTE: Harry Potter, et all are all property of the wonderful, talented J.K. Rowling. I'm just screwing with them. ^_^ The song Pissing in the Wind is property of Badly Drawn Boy.