THE OPPOSITE of SEX
By: DaDomz (Branw3nand Lestat)
DISCLAIMER: WE DON'T OWN NOTHING.
WARNINGS:
This is a HP/DM fic. But not entirely. Read it and understand. Also a R/Hr fic so be warned! Idea derived from the Travelers Incognito.
Authors' Notes: Oh, I don't really know the proper placements of the rooms in Hogwarts so, if there's an inconsistency, then blame it on ineptness but I'm trying my best to devour the books and correct any possible mishaps. Kiren, thanks for your advise, got the same ones about my other fics, so I'm trying to squelch in all the A/Ns in here.
L: Do they have cicadas on Scotland? I was supposed to put crickets but it would be too cliché. (Yes, that one's from Lestat.)
To Cali: Watchoo talkin' 'bout? We ain't impersonating vamps from A. Rice. My p.name's derived from the Welsh Goddess of love while well, Lestat *was* her old p. name. So if you wanna read her stories, then e-mail me and I can give it to you or something.
Regarding the poll: Wow! I can't believe some of you actually responded to that! Yes, due to popular demand, Draco is now quite allergic to pumpkin juice.
Moonchild: *sheepish grin* kinda forgot to mention it, sorry. My head's usually very disorganized and, well, more often than not, I act before my thought process pans out the right decisions. Thanks for the e-mail, really shows that some guys really love this fic. I'm so proud. *cheeky smile*
Ladyblondhair and meirta: Yes, nearly everyone in the Slytherin Seventh Year knows about Draco's sexuality but won't actually show they know it. Crabbe and Goyle are indifferent about it, so there you go. She's actually closest to Pansy.
BakaWeapon and Das Roo Boo: Thanks for putting us on your fave author list!!!
bad-ass Cinderella: Um.not really my fault. My used to be co- author had this perception of Draco and I have mine. That gender bender fic kinda inspired this, and if you read that one, well, Draco *is* a girly-girl, (no offense intended) and that was Lestat's view of *this* Draco, though this will be different now.
Chapter Three: Interesting Midnight Excursions
The night air swirled around outside the open window until it penetrated thick woven curtains and entered the dim dormitory. It swiftly passed four peacefully sleeping teenaged boys, paying no attention to them and settled over one particular man, who had trouble sleeping. The west wind seemed to linger over his skin, freezing the dampness that had already occupied his epidermis due to a rather disturbing dream and his endless tossing and turning.
The chill penetrated deep into his bones, drying the plain white shirt and resuming its teasing actions on his tanned skin. The man rubbed at his face and reached out to the night table where he had placed his glasses hours before. The world suddenly came into focus as thick spectacles were perched on a lengthy nose and made startlingly green eyes the face's focal point. He ran a frustrated hand through already chaotic ebony hair as he sighed, pulling himself up into a sitting position.
Bare feet came into contact with the freezingly cold wooden panels of the floor, bringing a wince to the Boy-Who-Lived's handsome face. When he had decided that the cold no longer bothered him, he firmly planted his feet on the grainy floorboards searching for his shoes, deciding that he wouldn't return to his fitful slumber and instead decided to wander around the castle which was usually deserted at this time.
Searching for his pants, he happened to glance at the clock by his bedside, the glowing hands indicating the ungodly hour in which he had decided to vacate his four-poster. Three-thirty. He shrugged it off, not much bothered him now and his sole concern was successfully slipping on his trousers. He struggled for a while, his brain not properly functioning at this early an hour, his body aching due to sleep deprivation.
He managed to pull them over his boxers as he took his Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk and slipped it on.
Ron wouldn't mind if he took a stroll around the castle without him and Hermione. Merlin knows that the red-head needed all the sleep he could get due to his unusually consistent growth-spurt. If he wasn't sleeping, then he was eating. His metabolism was beginning to catch up with his height.
Harry had gone through his in the middle of his during the beginning of their Fifth Year. It was a late time to start but as Harry was an unusual boy, he never questioned his unsound hormones. Besides, unlike his best friend, he had ceased his development and remained a normal six-foot one stature.
And with that he left the Seventh Year Boy's Dormitory and the Gryffindor Common Room and made his way east, towards the Astronomy Tower.
By happenstance, he had taken the Marauders' Map with him and he activated it, making sure to take the easiest route which was usually the one Filch wasn't using. Thankfully, Filch was three floors below him and didn't appear to want to bother checking the Astronomy Tower. It was too late and any paramours Filch and Mrs. Norris might have hoped to catch meeting would have to be in bed by now.
He knew from own personal experience. He had trysts such as those he had just depicted, though he could never claim that he had loved any of them. They were inconsequential, insignificant flings, things he had participated in out of boredom, a sentiment that nearly all his female counterparts had also emanated, though he was certain that he had broken his fair share of hearts as well.
He wasn't even sure if he believed in true love anymore, all anyone had ever wanted from him was his fame. Might things have been different had he not been the Boy-Who-Lived?
He leaned out a window, the sudden coolness of the marble doing nothing to assuage his muddled thoughts. He rested against the frame, wincing at its coarseness, his mind far from Hogwarts and back to a time when he could hope that his parents had not died but had just disappeared, only to be found and reunited with him. He was much too old for that type of wishful thinking.
His situation in life was already more than he could ask for. He now lived with his Godfather in an enormous mansion and could have anything he wanted, if he would bother to ask for it. He blinked away superfluous thoughts, content with whatever the gods had given him. They would not have done what they had without purpose.
He blinked as incandescent shimmer flashed before his eyes. It shone with a brilliance that could only be described as ethereal. He craned his neck, searching for its source, knowing full well that the moon could not generate such light. His line of vision landed on the Astronomy Tower's crown, where he saw a hunched figure perched near its edge.
Head covered with golden locks turned away from him, it was the source of the unearthly shine. Arms were wrapped around legs drawn up to a tiny frame, while hands clutched at something unseen. The individual was clad entirely in black, appearing to be blending in to the shadows, appearing to have been borne from within its depths. Harry's eyes widened as the person appeared to set down what they had been holding and stand, walking towards the roof's edge.
Every instinct he had demanded that he rush to the Astronomy Tower and save the solitary figure. It appeared to be too much of a last desperate attempt to end a worthless unappealing life.
* * * * *
Fingers nearly frost-bitten with cold nimbly picked up the goblet which lay before suede clad feet and brought its golden rim to exquisite pale pink lips turned white from the blistering chill as a refined mouth opened to down the bitterly sweet crimson fluid. Wine burned down his tongue, throat and into his stomach, leaving a lingering sensation of liquid fire in his body. He never liked wine, though had been bred to take it. It was a myriad of flavors, and the bitter sweetness that left a sour trail on his tongue did nothing to appease his stomach yet became an effective but momentary guard against the acrimonious gust that swirled around the castle.
He came here on days when his thoughts were most unclear and left him confused. He never did see the appeal of sharing ones feelings with another being. He found no comfort in such trivial actions. He preferred the tranquil solitude that this roof offered him. He shivered, heart beating gradually, at a slower pace than what would have been normal. Days where he had left the Slytherin table with plate after plate of uneaten food, disregarded meals, unfulfilled appetites, leaving the body weaker and more fragile than what was normal.
His initiation as a Death Eater was impending, and it worried him. It was what was expected of him, from both friends and enemies. But the person whom he thought would be the most persistent of his decision to become what he hated was the individual who wanted him to carefully reflect over his decisions. He thought that his father would have made it an assurity, to make him Voldemort's servant, but to his surprise, it was the other way around.
Professor Snape's reaction was much more predictable, though. He became worried, even concerned for his sake. Being protective was quite usual of him and handing out unasked for yet much needed advice. He was lucky to get away with missing so many meals as it was. He was even luckier to find solace from Pansy's prying and extricate some alone time early in the mornings.
He set down the gold goblet, it did nothing for his ostensibly incurable headache and on a whim stood up on shaky and unstable legs, stumbling towards the edge, flinging his arms out, tilting his head up, breathing in the clear and fresh breeze.
Suddenly, he didn't feel as good as he thought he did and the last thing he could see was the looming Hogwarts Castle grounds as all thought exited his head, not even registering the fact that he was falling, stumbling to his death.
* * * * *
He gulped in burningly cold gulps of night air, forcing it down his lungs, trying to regain all the breath he had lost in his haste to rush up the Astronomy Tower. He took a few moments to steel and clam himself, searching for any secret panels, hidden entrances or any of the like. It took his eyes a while to adjust to the darkness but he knew he didn't have that sort of leisure if he was to save that girl right above him.
He ran his hands over the cool and rough marble, his hands catching on the coarse cement that held the slabs together. He knew he was wasting precious seconds standing there and doing nothing. He had nearly come full circle around the globular space when his fingers caught on some invisible catch in the stone. He tried to pry it open but to no avail. He slapped his forehead as he realized that on some whim, he had stuffed his wand down the crimson sweater Mrs. Weasley had given him last Christmas.
He hastily removed it from the hand-woven cotton and nearly dropped the object in his haste. He dreaded what might have happened had he not caught it before it fell to the dusty ground. He muttered a spell and sighed with relief as the once minute opening parted and revealed a short albeit winding staircase that led up and most probably to the roof.
He hastened up the narrowly spaced steps as he unexpectedly burst into the roof, the staircase unexpectedly leading to a hatch that seemed part of the inner surfacing of the roof. He barely had time to register the fact that it wasn't a girl that he had seen but Malfoy before he saw his adversary throw himself over the edge without a second thought, as if giving up any hope for salvation.
On mere instinct, he propelled himself near the edge of the roof and grabbed Malfoy by the back of his thankfully fastened robes and wrapped an arm around the Slytherin's slight waist as soon as he pulled him back, sinking down onto the startlingly smooth corrugated roof with Malfoy's unconscious body above him.
He grunted turning to his side, depositing Malfoy beside him. He flipped himself over the blonde, examining him for any marks or blemishes that could have resulted from the momentary yet life- threatening instant when he saved the smaller boy. Absolute perfection was what met him. He be damned if any being could even come close to this vision of utter flawlessness.
Screw the person who invented the belief that God created all of his beings equally.
He tenderly cradled the possibly cataleptic boy's face in his hands, wincing at the freezing temperature of his pale skin. He had always thought of Draco Malfoy as a cold and heartless creature but this was too much. No human, Wizard or not, could survive with such body temperature. He couldn't clearly discern Malfoy's breathing and had to place his ear over pale nearly blue lips to feel cold however thankfully wet breath tickle his ear lobes. His breathing was uneven and spaced at irregular intervals but he was breathing, nonetheless.
He then moved his ear to where Malfoy's literal heart was and could perceive its hushed and sluggish pace. He was shivering convulsively as well. Harry drew himself up and ran a hand through his unruly hair, pondering on what actions to take next.
The answer abruptly came to him in an inane image of Uncle Vernon laughing spastically at some insipid looking Muggle show which Harry had happened to glimpse of until Aunt Marge dragged him off to bed.
Malfoy had hypothermia.
He did the only thing he thought was feasible in this unlikely situation. He took Malfoy's seemingly weightless body, cradling him gently in his arms and carried him down into the Astronomy Tower's dank yet protected confines. He set the Slytherin down onto his Invisibility Cloak, the same one which he had let slip from his shoulders just minutes ago.
He bundled the slight boy in his Cloak and wrapped his arms around the younger boy, running his hands over Malfoy's arms, trying to achieve enough friction for heat. He received no reaction whatsoever from Draco. He set him down onto the stone floor once more, bundled pallid fingers together and brought them under his sweater, flinching at the contact of frozen epidermis on his body, though his shirt should have shielded him against it.
"Malfoy, what the fuck have you been doing?" he muttered, running nimble figures through silken locks that had him so engrossed with these past weeks.
What shocked him was that he got a response. An unintelligible reply, yet it did prove that Malfoy wasn't comatose. He sighed as he ran his fingers down Malfoy's frozen angelic visage, resembling an ice sculpture he had once seen and just as frosty.
Keep the victim warm.
He groaned, running his thumb over supple lips as blue as an early morning sky. No!!! He did not have those kind of inclinations.
He'll die.
Damn this conscience. He leaned towards Malfoy, pressing his cheek to Draco's clear forehead, breathing into his face, trying to warm him up as best as possible. Would Mdm. Pomfrey ask any questions? She'd probably not but he couldn't out rule that slight possibility that she might, given the circumstance.
He decided to try one last time, grimacing as he pressed his lips to Malfoy's, kissing him with all his might, hoping to reinstate some warmth within the other boy but to no avail. An indiscernible twitch came from the hands under his sweater but he couldn't perceive any other change in the lithe boy's frame. He rubbed at his forehead, sighed defeatedly and once again began to bear Malfoy in his arms. The alluring stench of apples, cinnamon and whatever else there was in his aura, drugged him.
Malfoy stirred in his arms as he made his way to the Infirmary, flaxen head snuggling into his chest, shivering from exposure.
"It's alright, Malfoy," he muttered, to comfort himself more than Malfoy. "You're going to be all right."
Malfoy's lips moved against the thick cotton of his sweater as slender and freezing fingers clawed at his white shirt, searching for much needed warmth. He turned and pressed his cheek to Harry's chest, unconsciously hearing heart beating rapidly and warm blood flowing all around the body that cradled him as if he were a new born babe.
Draco tried to open his eyes but immediately closed them as the world came upon him like a hazy dream, only the steady pumping of a heart which was not his own, irregular breathing that came from above and muscled limbs which nursed him kept his mind on the reality of it all. The smell of musk, mint and old spice soothed him unlike any other as he began to loose consciousness.
He was safe now.
* * * * *
Bright light filtered through thick curled lashes, reflecting off light grey irises, causing lids to continuously flutter over them, training them to the luminosity of the area. Finding the overhead candlelight too intense for his eyes, he turned to the side only to suddenly loose all the warmth that unconsciousness had brought. He curled up into a ball, taking in deep and laboured breaths to try and trying to rub his hands together to spawn much required heat.
After much struggle, he gave up, resigned to probably dying due to overexposure. That was when he felt the area in which he must have laid on give way due to unexpected pressure or weight. Thick cloth which had bunched uncomfortably around his ankles was suddenly but with much gentle consternation pulled over his body and up onto his chin. Strong calloused hands tucked the comforter around him causing him an extreme amount of discomfort.
Struggling against the tender action, he heard a nearly imperceptible sigh of frustration as sturdy arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer to a wall of much appreciated warmth to which he responded with a soft moan, nuzzling closer to its true source, his cheek rubbing against a relaxing roughness, unnaturally soft as it stretched across hard plates of something indiscernible to his addled brain.
Whatever it was didn't matter as long as it was warm. The comforter was once again wrapped against his protesting form but he quickly settled as the warmth enveloped him, holding him against the powerful wall where he could have sworn he heard a quiescent though continually pounding beating noise.
He drifted off once more, smiling peacefully as the insurmountable grasp of sleep's delicious fingers clutched at him and drew him into its lulling delusions of protection and safety.
* * * * *
Harry took in deep breaths, trying to concentrate on anything but the precious bundle in his arms, trying to alleviate his heightened senses, shutting his eyes and breathing through his mouth, attempting to wipe the vision of Malfoy clinging to him from his mind. Though try as he might, shutting the Slytherin boy out of two particular senses didn't make his enthralling presence all the more imperceptible.
He could still feel slender fingers grasping at his sweater and the cheek buried into the cotton fabric. He felt Malfoy stir, mumbling incoherently before tightening his grip over the rouge sweater, brow furrowing in consternation. Slight legs slid over his own, tangling them together as he held his breath, hoping his faint movements wouldn't wake the blonde.
He regretted ever thinking of even trying to assuage Malfoy's fitful slumber. Why couldn't he have just left or, if he really had to give in to the urge of protecting Malfoy, waited until Mdm. Pomfrey utilized the rest of the potion. But no, he had to give in to his peculiar impulses to help ease Malfoy's feverish dream and have the short boy cling to him in turn as he tried to tuck him into the comforter.
He couldn't help but feel a tiny streak of pride rush at him from out of nowhere due to the fact that such a delicate creature would find comfort in him, though unwittingly. He was completely nonplussed by now.
He squashed down the exceptionally disturbing thought as if he were Ron and it was a spider. He felt thoroughly disgusted with himself.
He felt the body next to him shift slightly, causing the flaxen head to now lean against the crook of his neck, triggering an unnatural effect on him, making him gasp at the onslaught of emotions that such tiny, nearly insignificant gestures caused.
Malfoy's hand flattened on his chest and he stifled a gasp as it rubbed over his sweater, searching for warmth, no doubt. Reluctantly, he enclosed the much tinier hand in his own, marveling at how small it was compared to his, and how soft and smooth it was. It was blatantly obvious that the Draco had never laboured over such menial things as housework, never to have been concerned with it.
He wished Pomfrey would hurry with the rest of that potion already. She had given Malfoy a slight laxative, not the entire potion but something that might warm him up and bring down the fever he had before she tackled the hypothermia. Slightly leaning on Malfoy's head, he winced as he heard a boisterous crash located by the Infirmary's entryway.
He lifted his head and saw Mdm. Pomfrey scuttle into the room, face red with anger, carrying a flask in one hand and confronting the intruder. An unnerving feeling crept through his spine like a snake, ice cold and venomous. He quickly disregarded the feeling, knowing whoever was back there would be dealt with by Mdm. Pomfrey.
Hell hath no fury like a mediwitch scorned.
He shut his eyes, evening out his breathing, calming himself knowing, though he could not identify how he knew, that sleepers could somehow sense their surroundings. That was when the sinister shadow descended upon him.
* * * * *
Author's Note: Okay, not so much comedy in there, it was mostly fluff. Grr!!! I'm very bad at comedy but I'll try harder next time, though. Please REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!! Oh, and if any of you guys out there know how to translate English to Latin would you please contact me??? I really need some scenes between Draco and Snape translated because, well, just because. I'll give you the next chapter!!! *pleading puppy dog eyes*
Poll: (since it was so successful last time) If Draco's hair grows, should it be straight or slightly wavy or curly? Just wondering, can't really decide. I had this vision of him with Britney Spear's hair in that video, er.the one with the entirely all-black background where she drives the car? That slightly wavy curly hair that she had? Or maybe J. Lo's in her 'Jenny from the Block' video? What do you think Draco's hair should be?
DISCLAIMER: WE DON'T OWN NOTHING.
WARNINGS:
This is a HP/DM fic. But not entirely. Read it and understand. Also a R/Hr fic so be warned! Idea derived from the Travelers Incognito.
Authors' Notes: Oh, I don't really know the proper placements of the rooms in Hogwarts so, if there's an inconsistency, then blame it on ineptness but I'm trying my best to devour the books and correct any possible mishaps. Kiren, thanks for your advise, got the same ones about my other fics, so I'm trying to squelch in all the A/Ns in here.
L: Do they have cicadas on Scotland? I was supposed to put crickets but it would be too cliché. (Yes, that one's from Lestat.)
To Cali: Watchoo talkin' 'bout? We ain't impersonating vamps from A. Rice. My p.name's derived from the Welsh Goddess of love while well, Lestat *was* her old p. name. So if you wanna read her stories, then e-mail me and I can give it to you or something.
Regarding the poll: Wow! I can't believe some of you actually responded to that! Yes, due to popular demand, Draco is now quite allergic to pumpkin juice.
Moonchild: *sheepish grin* kinda forgot to mention it, sorry. My head's usually very disorganized and, well, more often than not, I act before my thought process pans out the right decisions. Thanks for the e-mail, really shows that some guys really love this fic. I'm so proud. *cheeky smile*
Ladyblondhair and meirta: Yes, nearly everyone in the Slytherin Seventh Year knows about Draco's sexuality but won't actually show they know it. Crabbe and Goyle are indifferent about it, so there you go. She's actually closest to Pansy.
BakaWeapon and Das Roo Boo: Thanks for putting us on your fave author list!!!
bad-ass Cinderella: Um.not really my fault. My used to be co- author had this perception of Draco and I have mine. That gender bender fic kinda inspired this, and if you read that one, well, Draco *is* a girly-girl, (no offense intended) and that was Lestat's view of *this* Draco, though this will be different now.
Chapter Three: Interesting Midnight Excursions
The night air swirled around outside the open window until it penetrated thick woven curtains and entered the dim dormitory. It swiftly passed four peacefully sleeping teenaged boys, paying no attention to them and settled over one particular man, who had trouble sleeping. The west wind seemed to linger over his skin, freezing the dampness that had already occupied his epidermis due to a rather disturbing dream and his endless tossing and turning.
The chill penetrated deep into his bones, drying the plain white shirt and resuming its teasing actions on his tanned skin. The man rubbed at his face and reached out to the night table where he had placed his glasses hours before. The world suddenly came into focus as thick spectacles were perched on a lengthy nose and made startlingly green eyes the face's focal point. He ran a frustrated hand through already chaotic ebony hair as he sighed, pulling himself up into a sitting position.
Bare feet came into contact with the freezingly cold wooden panels of the floor, bringing a wince to the Boy-Who-Lived's handsome face. When he had decided that the cold no longer bothered him, he firmly planted his feet on the grainy floorboards searching for his shoes, deciding that he wouldn't return to his fitful slumber and instead decided to wander around the castle which was usually deserted at this time.
Searching for his pants, he happened to glance at the clock by his bedside, the glowing hands indicating the ungodly hour in which he had decided to vacate his four-poster. Three-thirty. He shrugged it off, not much bothered him now and his sole concern was successfully slipping on his trousers. He struggled for a while, his brain not properly functioning at this early an hour, his body aching due to sleep deprivation.
He managed to pull them over his boxers as he took his Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk and slipped it on.
Ron wouldn't mind if he took a stroll around the castle without him and Hermione. Merlin knows that the red-head needed all the sleep he could get due to his unusually consistent growth-spurt. If he wasn't sleeping, then he was eating. His metabolism was beginning to catch up with his height.
Harry had gone through his in the middle of his during the beginning of their Fifth Year. It was a late time to start but as Harry was an unusual boy, he never questioned his unsound hormones. Besides, unlike his best friend, he had ceased his development and remained a normal six-foot one stature.
And with that he left the Seventh Year Boy's Dormitory and the Gryffindor Common Room and made his way east, towards the Astronomy Tower.
By happenstance, he had taken the Marauders' Map with him and he activated it, making sure to take the easiest route which was usually the one Filch wasn't using. Thankfully, Filch was three floors below him and didn't appear to want to bother checking the Astronomy Tower. It was too late and any paramours Filch and Mrs. Norris might have hoped to catch meeting would have to be in bed by now.
He knew from own personal experience. He had trysts such as those he had just depicted, though he could never claim that he had loved any of them. They were inconsequential, insignificant flings, things he had participated in out of boredom, a sentiment that nearly all his female counterparts had also emanated, though he was certain that he had broken his fair share of hearts as well.
He wasn't even sure if he believed in true love anymore, all anyone had ever wanted from him was his fame. Might things have been different had he not been the Boy-Who-Lived?
He leaned out a window, the sudden coolness of the marble doing nothing to assuage his muddled thoughts. He rested against the frame, wincing at its coarseness, his mind far from Hogwarts and back to a time when he could hope that his parents had not died but had just disappeared, only to be found and reunited with him. He was much too old for that type of wishful thinking.
His situation in life was already more than he could ask for. He now lived with his Godfather in an enormous mansion and could have anything he wanted, if he would bother to ask for it. He blinked away superfluous thoughts, content with whatever the gods had given him. They would not have done what they had without purpose.
He blinked as incandescent shimmer flashed before his eyes. It shone with a brilliance that could only be described as ethereal. He craned his neck, searching for its source, knowing full well that the moon could not generate such light. His line of vision landed on the Astronomy Tower's crown, where he saw a hunched figure perched near its edge.
Head covered with golden locks turned away from him, it was the source of the unearthly shine. Arms were wrapped around legs drawn up to a tiny frame, while hands clutched at something unseen. The individual was clad entirely in black, appearing to be blending in to the shadows, appearing to have been borne from within its depths. Harry's eyes widened as the person appeared to set down what they had been holding and stand, walking towards the roof's edge.
Every instinct he had demanded that he rush to the Astronomy Tower and save the solitary figure. It appeared to be too much of a last desperate attempt to end a worthless unappealing life.
* * * * *
Fingers nearly frost-bitten with cold nimbly picked up the goblet which lay before suede clad feet and brought its golden rim to exquisite pale pink lips turned white from the blistering chill as a refined mouth opened to down the bitterly sweet crimson fluid. Wine burned down his tongue, throat and into his stomach, leaving a lingering sensation of liquid fire in his body. He never liked wine, though had been bred to take it. It was a myriad of flavors, and the bitter sweetness that left a sour trail on his tongue did nothing to appease his stomach yet became an effective but momentary guard against the acrimonious gust that swirled around the castle.
He came here on days when his thoughts were most unclear and left him confused. He never did see the appeal of sharing ones feelings with another being. He found no comfort in such trivial actions. He preferred the tranquil solitude that this roof offered him. He shivered, heart beating gradually, at a slower pace than what would have been normal. Days where he had left the Slytherin table with plate after plate of uneaten food, disregarded meals, unfulfilled appetites, leaving the body weaker and more fragile than what was normal.
His initiation as a Death Eater was impending, and it worried him. It was what was expected of him, from both friends and enemies. But the person whom he thought would be the most persistent of his decision to become what he hated was the individual who wanted him to carefully reflect over his decisions. He thought that his father would have made it an assurity, to make him Voldemort's servant, but to his surprise, it was the other way around.
Professor Snape's reaction was much more predictable, though. He became worried, even concerned for his sake. Being protective was quite usual of him and handing out unasked for yet much needed advice. He was lucky to get away with missing so many meals as it was. He was even luckier to find solace from Pansy's prying and extricate some alone time early in the mornings.
He set down the gold goblet, it did nothing for his ostensibly incurable headache and on a whim stood up on shaky and unstable legs, stumbling towards the edge, flinging his arms out, tilting his head up, breathing in the clear and fresh breeze.
Suddenly, he didn't feel as good as he thought he did and the last thing he could see was the looming Hogwarts Castle grounds as all thought exited his head, not even registering the fact that he was falling, stumbling to his death.
* * * * *
He gulped in burningly cold gulps of night air, forcing it down his lungs, trying to regain all the breath he had lost in his haste to rush up the Astronomy Tower. He took a few moments to steel and clam himself, searching for any secret panels, hidden entrances or any of the like. It took his eyes a while to adjust to the darkness but he knew he didn't have that sort of leisure if he was to save that girl right above him.
He ran his hands over the cool and rough marble, his hands catching on the coarse cement that held the slabs together. He knew he was wasting precious seconds standing there and doing nothing. He had nearly come full circle around the globular space when his fingers caught on some invisible catch in the stone. He tried to pry it open but to no avail. He slapped his forehead as he realized that on some whim, he had stuffed his wand down the crimson sweater Mrs. Weasley had given him last Christmas.
He hastily removed it from the hand-woven cotton and nearly dropped the object in his haste. He dreaded what might have happened had he not caught it before it fell to the dusty ground. He muttered a spell and sighed with relief as the once minute opening parted and revealed a short albeit winding staircase that led up and most probably to the roof.
He hastened up the narrowly spaced steps as he unexpectedly burst into the roof, the staircase unexpectedly leading to a hatch that seemed part of the inner surfacing of the roof. He barely had time to register the fact that it wasn't a girl that he had seen but Malfoy before he saw his adversary throw himself over the edge without a second thought, as if giving up any hope for salvation.
On mere instinct, he propelled himself near the edge of the roof and grabbed Malfoy by the back of his thankfully fastened robes and wrapped an arm around the Slytherin's slight waist as soon as he pulled him back, sinking down onto the startlingly smooth corrugated roof with Malfoy's unconscious body above him.
He grunted turning to his side, depositing Malfoy beside him. He flipped himself over the blonde, examining him for any marks or blemishes that could have resulted from the momentary yet life- threatening instant when he saved the smaller boy. Absolute perfection was what met him. He be damned if any being could even come close to this vision of utter flawlessness.
Screw the person who invented the belief that God created all of his beings equally.
He tenderly cradled the possibly cataleptic boy's face in his hands, wincing at the freezing temperature of his pale skin. He had always thought of Draco Malfoy as a cold and heartless creature but this was too much. No human, Wizard or not, could survive with such body temperature. He couldn't clearly discern Malfoy's breathing and had to place his ear over pale nearly blue lips to feel cold however thankfully wet breath tickle his ear lobes. His breathing was uneven and spaced at irregular intervals but he was breathing, nonetheless.
He then moved his ear to where Malfoy's literal heart was and could perceive its hushed and sluggish pace. He was shivering convulsively as well. Harry drew himself up and ran a hand through his unruly hair, pondering on what actions to take next.
The answer abruptly came to him in an inane image of Uncle Vernon laughing spastically at some insipid looking Muggle show which Harry had happened to glimpse of until Aunt Marge dragged him off to bed.
Malfoy had hypothermia.
He did the only thing he thought was feasible in this unlikely situation. He took Malfoy's seemingly weightless body, cradling him gently in his arms and carried him down into the Astronomy Tower's dank yet protected confines. He set the Slytherin down onto his Invisibility Cloak, the same one which he had let slip from his shoulders just minutes ago.
He bundled the slight boy in his Cloak and wrapped his arms around the younger boy, running his hands over Malfoy's arms, trying to achieve enough friction for heat. He received no reaction whatsoever from Draco. He set him down onto the stone floor once more, bundled pallid fingers together and brought them under his sweater, flinching at the contact of frozen epidermis on his body, though his shirt should have shielded him against it.
"Malfoy, what the fuck have you been doing?" he muttered, running nimble figures through silken locks that had him so engrossed with these past weeks.
What shocked him was that he got a response. An unintelligible reply, yet it did prove that Malfoy wasn't comatose. He sighed as he ran his fingers down Malfoy's frozen angelic visage, resembling an ice sculpture he had once seen and just as frosty.
Keep the victim warm.
He groaned, running his thumb over supple lips as blue as an early morning sky. No!!! He did not have those kind of inclinations.
He'll die.
Damn this conscience. He leaned towards Malfoy, pressing his cheek to Draco's clear forehead, breathing into his face, trying to warm him up as best as possible. Would Mdm. Pomfrey ask any questions? She'd probably not but he couldn't out rule that slight possibility that she might, given the circumstance.
He decided to try one last time, grimacing as he pressed his lips to Malfoy's, kissing him with all his might, hoping to reinstate some warmth within the other boy but to no avail. An indiscernible twitch came from the hands under his sweater but he couldn't perceive any other change in the lithe boy's frame. He rubbed at his forehead, sighed defeatedly and once again began to bear Malfoy in his arms. The alluring stench of apples, cinnamon and whatever else there was in his aura, drugged him.
Malfoy stirred in his arms as he made his way to the Infirmary, flaxen head snuggling into his chest, shivering from exposure.
"It's alright, Malfoy," he muttered, to comfort himself more than Malfoy. "You're going to be all right."
Malfoy's lips moved against the thick cotton of his sweater as slender and freezing fingers clawed at his white shirt, searching for much needed warmth. He turned and pressed his cheek to Harry's chest, unconsciously hearing heart beating rapidly and warm blood flowing all around the body that cradled him as if he were a new born babe.
Draco tried to open his eyes but immediately closed them as the world came upon him like a hazy dream, only the steady pumping of a heart which was not his own, irregular breathing that came from above and muscled limbs which nursed him kept his mind on the reality of it all. The smell of musk, mint and old spice soothed him unlike any other as he began to loose consciousness.
He was safe now.
* * * * *
Bright light filtered through thick curled lashes, reflecting off light grey irises, causing lids to continuously flutter over them, training them to the luminosity of the area. Finding the overhead candlelight too intense for his eyes, he turned to the side only to suddenly loose all the warmth that unconsciousness had brought. He curled up into a ball, taking in deep and laboured breaths to try and trying to rub his hands together to spawn much required heat.
After much struggle, he gave up, resigned to probably dying due to overexposure. That was when he felt the area in which he must have laid on give way due to unexpected pressure or weight. Thick cloth which had bunched uncomfortably around his ankles was suddenly but with much gentle consternation pulled over his body and up onto his chin. Strong calloused hands tucked the comforter around him causing him an extreme amount of discomfort.
Struggling against the tender action, he heard a nearly imperceptible sigh of frustration as sturdy arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer to a wall of much appreciated warmth to which he responded with a soft moan, nuzzling closer to its true source, his cheek rubbing against a relaxing roughness, unnaturally soft as it stretched across hard plates of something indiscernible to his addled brain.
Whatever it was didn't matter as long as it was warm. The comforter was once again wrapped against his protesting form but he quickly settled as the warmth enveloped him, holding him against the powerful wall where he could have sworn he heard a quiescent though continually pounding beating noise.
He drifted off once more, smiling peacefully as the insurmountable grasp of sleep's delicious fingers clutched at him and drew him into its lulling delusions of protection and safety.
* * * * *
Harry took in deep breaths, trying to concentrate on anything but the precious bundle in his arms, trying to alleviate his heightened senses, shutting his eyes and breathing through his mouth, attempting to wipe the vision of Malfoy clinging to him from his mind. Though try as he might, shutting the Slytherin boy out of two particular senses didn't make his enthralling presence all the more imperceptible.
He could still feel slender fingers grasping at his sweater and the cheek buried into the cotton fabric. He felt Malfoy stir, mumbling incoherently before tightening his grip over the rouge sweater, brow furrowing in consternation. Slight legs slid over his own, tangling them together as he held his breath, hoping his faint movements wouldn't wake the blonde.
He regretted ever thinking of even trying to assuage Malfoy's fitful slumber. Why couldn't he have just left or, if he really had to give in to the urge of protecting Malfoy, waited until Mdm. Pomfrey utilized the rest of the potion. But no, he had to give in to his peculiar impulses to help ease Malfoy's feverish dream and have the short boy cling to him in turn as he tried to tuck him into the comforter.
He couldn't help but feel a tiny streak of pride rush at him from out of nowhere due to the fact that such a delicate creature would find comfort in him, though unwittingly. He was completely nonplussed by now.
He squashed down the exceptionally disturbing thought as if he were Ron and it was a spider. He felt thoroughly disgusted with himself.
He felt the body next to him shift slightly, causing the flaxen head to now lean against the crook of his neck, triggering an unnatural effect on him, making him gasp at the onslaught of emotions that such tiny, nearly insignificant gestures caused.
Malfoy's hand flattened on his chest and he stifled a gasp as it rubbed over his sweater, searching for warmth, no doubt. Reluctantly, he enclosed the much tinier hand in his own, marveling at how small it was compared to his, and how soft and smooth it was. It was blatantly obvious that the Draco had never laboured over such menial things as housework, never to have been concerned with it.
He wished Pomfrey would hurry with the rest of that potion already. She had given Malfoy a slight laxative, not the entire potion but something that might warm him up and bring down the fever he had before she tackled the hypothermia. Slightly leaning on Malfoy's head, he winced as he heard a boisterous crash located by the Infirmary's entryway.
He lifted his head and saw Mdm. Pomfrey scuttle into the room, face red with anger, carrying a flask in one hand and confronting the intruder. An unnerving feeling crept through his spine like a snake, ice cold and venomous. He quickly disregarded the feeling, knowing whoever was back there would be dealt with by Mdm. Pomfrey.
Hell hath no fury like a mediwitch scorned.
He shut his eyes, evening out his breathing, calming himself knowing, though he could not identify how he knew, that sleepers could somehow sense their surroundings. That was when the sinister shadow descended upon him.
* * * * *
Author's Note: Okay, not so much comedy in there, it was mostly fluff. Grr!!! I'm very bad at comedy but I'll try harder next time, though. Please REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!! Oh, and if any of you guys out there know how to translate English to Latin would you please contact me??? I really need some scenes between Draco and Snape translated because, well, just because. I'll give you the next chapter!!! *pleading puppy dog eyes*
Poll: (since it was so successful last time) If Draco's hair grows, should it be straight or slightly wavy or curly? Just wondering, can't really decide. I had this vision of him with Britney Spear's hair in that video, er.the one with the entirely all-black background where she drives the car? That slightly wavy curly hair that she had? Or maybe J. Lo's in her 'Jenny from the Block' video? What do you think Draco's hair should be?