-----Part Three

Of all the situations Draco thought he might end up in when he'd stepped out of the Slytherin common room and into the deathly cold corridor, crouching behind a bunch of oversized bushes, his archenemy beside him, was not one of them.

Ron, after recovering from the initial shock of being assaulted, turned. Quickly, the realization of just who it was he was looking at came and the redhead's surprise changed to anger. "What in the hell are you doing here?" Ron didn't yell this but whispered it, perhaps not fond of the idea that his mouth might have a chance to get acquainted with Draco's pale and freezing hand. Again.

What the hell am I doing here? Draco wondered, pulling the jacket he wore tighter around his slim yet muscled frame.

He hadn't meant to come to Hagrid's. After leaving his House he'd wandered around the huge palace that was Hogwarts, dodging professors (he'd had a close call with Flitwick) and peeking into rooms he thought might be restricted. He'd found nothing interesting, and the bumbling groundskeeper had come to mind. It's not worth the walk, he'd tried to reason with himself, but before that internal debate could be won Draco had found himself standing in front of Hagrid's hut, ready to play some pranks.

"Well?" Ron was shivering, a scowl marring his face.

"Well what?" Draco said this in a tone that implied he really didn't care to know what the Weasley was asking.

"I said what are you doing here?" He paused, looking cynical. "You're here to pick on Hagrid." It wasn't a question. "Prat."

Draco refrained from beating the crap out of the boy. Barely.

"Just sit there and shut up, Weasel. Dumbledork is in there with your giant friend. I don't wanna' get caught."

"Dumbledore?" Ron's eyes got wide. "Then why did you stop me from knocking?"

The blond rolled his eyes. "Gee, I was just dying for your company. Why do you think? Dumbledore catches you, most likely he catches the bloke hiding in the bushes not three feet away. Common sense." Draco grinned. "Why? Did you think that I cared?"

"Shut your trap, Malfoy," muttered Ron. He punched the pale boy in the shoulder.

"Hey." Draco rubbed at the abused appendage. "You're pushing your luck, red. Remind me to kick your arse when we leave here.

"You can try," growled Ron. There seemed to be movement inside of the little abode, and they both grew quiet.

As hard as it was, Ron had to admit that it would be incredibly difficult if not impossible for him to kick Draco's arse. He might have been able to manage it the year prior or the years before that, when he'd towered over most of his class. Now though, Draco stood a noticeable amount of inches taller than Ron and had managed to add a fair bit of muscle to his bones. And that was only when it came to fist fighting. Ron didn't even want to think about what Draco might be able to do to him when it came to wands.

Inside, they could hear Hagrid asking Dumbeldore if he'd like another cup of tea. Ron felt extremely cold, and despite this, his eyes were drooping. Draco tried to make himself comfortable on the hard ground and wondered how late it was.

"I should've checked the time," he muttered, and the two continued to wait.

-----

Ron didn't exactly wake up toasty, but he did wake up rather warm. My robes must've dried. He was lying down pressed up against something soft and...wait. Was that an arm? Without opening his eyes, the young wizard tried to discern just why there was an arm wrapped around his midriff. His sleep mussed brain could recall being quite angry about being left behind by his two best friends for Winter Break. He could remember the argument with Ginny and walking to Hagrid's cabin but-

"Thank you for the tea, Hagrid. And don't get too worried. I just thought we should keep an eye on him." Ron jumped. The voice was close. And it was Dumbledore's voice.

Dumbledore? Now Ron knew were he was. He had been grabbed by Draco and they'd been hiding out, waiting for the ever perceptive (not to mention frighteningly magical) Headmaster to leave Hagrid's hut. Although now that Ron thought about it he wasn't sure if that particular strategy was the best one to go by. Sure, they might've gotten caught making a break for it. But Dumbledore hadn't noticed Ron when he was about to knock on the door... No, staying close to the scene of the crime definitely wasn't a good idea. He would have to remember to berate Malfoy for that decision later.

"Right, sir. Two eyes," came Hagrid's gruff voice, just as the redhead realized that it was actually the aforementioned platinum-haired teen's arm that was thrown casually around his middle. Ron held back not only a scream, but a stream of surprised curses. He wanted to throw that arm off and he wanted to pulverize Draco. Unfortunately, he couldn't do either of those things. The Headmaster and groundskeeper were still chatting and (judging by the steady breath that was brushing Ron's neck) Draco was still asleep. That last one wouldn't usually matter except, somehow, Ron doubted that Malfoy would keep quiet if he woke to a certain Weasley brother beating the crap out of him.

"Have a good night."

"Good night." There was a creaking sound and Hagrid's door shut. A loud crunching sound could be heard as the old Headmaster battled his way through the fallen snow, and toward the castle. Ron waited...waited...waited. And then took a breath.

"What do you think you're doing!" The cry sounded in two voices. Just as Ron had pushed the arm away, Draco had pulled it away. Both of them had a disgusted look on their face.

"What are you, gay?" Gray eyes looked accusingly at Ron.

Ron bristled. As if I was the one who initiated the...the spooning! "You're the one who had your arm around me!" Hagrid could be heard shuffling around in his cabin - presumably readying for bed. The hut went suddenly dark.

The blond snorted, brushed himself off and stood. "You probably put my arm there. I always knew you were strange Weasel. But I never knew you were strange that way." Sneering, he turned and started walking.

"Stupid jerk," mumbled Ron to himself. "He knows I'm not that way." The fifth year snorted disbelievingly, paused, and then sprinted after his rival.

"I'm not, uh, gay. You know that right?" Draco ignored him, so he pressed on. "I like Hermione. At least, I think I like her. She's really pretty." There. He'd even named the girl he liked. Emphasis on girl.

"Go away."

"Hey, so you were awake the whole time weren't you? Why didn't you pull away? I didn't pull away because I thought you were asleep." Malfoy didn't answer. It was obvious he wasn't in the mood for talking. At least not about this particular subject. Of course, Ron remembered, they were mortal enemies. That might have something to do with Draco's aloofness.

They walked on, their feet making the same loud crunch Dumbledore's feet had. "Did you hear what they said?" A change of subject might work. "Dumbledore and Hagrid said something about keeping an eye on someone. Who do you think they meant?"

No reply.

"Draco?"

Still no reply.

Ron blew up. He had tried to be nice and start a conversation even after those rude accusations. Draco had ignored him outright. "I bet I know who they were talking about," he said coolly. "They were talking about you, seeing as how your father is a follower of-"

BAM.

A fist to the stomach, of all places, cut Ron off before he could finish. He let out an umph, gasped for breath. Draco pulled his arm back, got ready to punch again. Then for no apparent reason, he stopped. "Go to hell, Weasel." They'd reached the castle. He jogged away.

Ron coughed, finally catching his breath. He straightened his robes and, remembering his first thought when he'd woken up, realized they weren't dry at all. He'd just been warm because Malfoy had been there. Spooning him. Ron cringed.

For Merlin's sake, he'd gotten warm with Draco.