b.[. CoLd .]./b
By: Fabio Bathory
Lyrics by: the Cruxshadows
Hide the window watching | give hands that push the faces back | shiver in the alleys | and dying in the cold | little hands and little faces | what are you running from? | they're creeping on your satin sheets | and dancing
in your nightmare
It was cold. Far too cold for Harry's liking. It was the kind of cold that froze you from the inside, turning your blood to molten mercury, so hot it flowed freezing in the mortal veins. The kind of cold that threatened to snap your bones in half if you didn't stop shivering straight away. No amount of fire, or magik, could cure this form of a cold. It was just too bbloody/b cold.
Harry pulled the crimson blankets around him, snugling his head down as far as it would go into the soft, vermillion fabric of the pillows. All in vain. It was still cold. The smooth sheets even began to have an icy feel to them, much to the dismay of the Boy-Who-Lived (in an igloo, he though to himself).
Sighing exasperatedly, he sat himself up in bed, eyes adjusting to the darkness of his curtained bed. The darkness was tinted red with an undying chill so cold, Hell must've been working the heaters overtime. Harry sighed. This was not going to be a good night's sleep.
He scooted to oneside of the bed, and parted the curtains. Slightly brighter outside the bed, he distingused four other large beds from the darkness. 'How could they sleep on such a cold night?' he asked himself, envious of this apparent "talent".
Sighing once more, he rose from his bed and, shaking violently, walked over to the window. There he stood, socked feet shivering on the arctic stone floor, teeth chattering slightly, eyes stinging from the cold. He mentally cursed the nights sudden morbid chill, hugging himself for warmth as many do on a cold day. Frozen Hell, this was.
He looked out the window, studying the darkness of the sky, the way the Dark Forest swayed in unison with the gusty winds, the way the moon shone down on the Earth, seemingly incaring of its inhabitants. Why should the moon care, anyways? It was just reflecting the light of the soon, and looking pretty. Harry could imagine the Moon laughing at all the mortals and their pitiful woes. But dammit, it was cold! So Harry decided to mentally curse the Moon as well.
Suddenly overcome with a vicious cough, he decided that he best head back over to his bed and try to make the most of this horrendously cold night. Tripping back, and trying to stifle his coughs, he herd a low moan, and some other noise. Undefineable. Looking around, he surmised that it was coming from Ron's bed. 'Great' Harry thought, 'just fucking wonderful. I'm freezing my arse off and Ron decides to have a nightmare. FanTASTic.' After a second thought, he mentally scolded himself. This was Ron we're talking about here. Best friend? Comerade? Dead sexy bastard? 'Yeah!' Harry thought to himself, trudging his way to Ron's portion of the room. 'Stop being such a self-centered twit, Potter.' Why did his inner voice suddenly sound like Malfoy? Harry cringed. This night was just not a good night at all.
Reaching Ron's bedside, Harry wrenched open the curtains. Expecting to see Ron all caught up in his bedsheets, twisting and turning, he found Ron sitting up and trying to cocoon himself inside a mass of maroon blankets. Harry chuckled.
"A bit chilly tonight, no?" he asked his friend. Ron shot him a glare and nodded. "Do you think," Rons teeth chattered together "we could get all the beds together and build a bonfire? That may keep us a bit warmer, don't you agree?" Harry shrugged. "Of course, we would be warmer that way but. I don't think McGongall would be too happy about that." Ron moaned again and threw himself back down to the bed. "Why is it so bloody cold?!" he sighed, nearly screaming in frustration. Harry rolled his eyes, and carefully climed atop the bed.
"Just to piss the two of us off, I suppose. No one else seems to be awake, so it must not be all that cold to them. Bastards." Harry muttered, a slight smirk playing upon his lips. Ron laughed lightly, and pulled back his blankets as to offer Harry a place to lie down. "Might as well keep each other warm, eh?" Harry feinged shock and outrage. "Why, Mr. Weasley, what are you suggesting?!" Harry cried dramaticly, though eagerly laying down beside Ron and snuggling into his side for the night. Ron merely laughed and buried his his face into the top of Harry's brown mop of hair. "Shut up and go to sleep, Potter." Harry giggled and muttered "Yes ma'am." Which earned him a poke in the ribs from Ron. Harry sighed and snuggled into Ron once more, a content smile upon his face. The curtains wrenched shut, the blankets wrapped tight around the two..
Ahh. Now he was warm.
.[. FiN .].
Authors Note: So yeah. this came to me about an hour ago because it was really fucking cold in my house. Come to think of it. it still it. Prehaps a heater? NO! I shant revert to those modern do-hickeys of false warmth. Teeheehe, so anyways. please Review! ::puppy dog eyes and a mallet:: pweety pwease?
By: Fabio Bathory
Lyrics by: the Cruxshadows
Hide the window watching | give hands that push the faces back | shiver in the alleys | and dying in the cold | little hands and little faces | what are you running from? | they're creeping on your satin sheets | and dancing
in your nightmare
It was cold. Far too cold for Harry's liking. It was the kind of cold that froze you from the inside, turning your blood to molten mercury, so hot it flowed freezing in the mortal veins. The kind of cold that threatened to snap your bones in half if you didn't stop shivering straight away. No amount of fire, or magik, could cure this form of a cold. It was just too bbloody/b cold.
Harry pulled the crimson blankets around him, snugling his head down as far as it would go into the soft, vermillion fabric of the pillows. All in vain. It was still cold. The smooth sheets even began to have an icy feel to them, much to the dismay of the Boy-Who-Lived (in an igloo, he though to himself).
Sighing exasperatedly, he sat himself up in bed, eyes adjusting to the darkness of his curtained bed. The darkness was tinted red with an undying chill so cold, Hell must've been working the heaters overtime. Harry sighed. This was not going to be a good night's sleep.
He scooted to oneside of the bed, and parted the curtains. Slightly brighter outside the bed, he distingused four other large beds from the darkness. 'How could they sleep on such a cold night?' he asked himself, envious of this apparent "talent".
Sighing once more, he rose from his bed and, shaking violently, walked over to the window. There he stood, socked feet shivering on the arctic stone floor, teeth chattering slightly, eyes stinging from the cold. He mentally cursed the nights sudden morbid chill, hugging himself for warmth as many do on a cold day. Frozen Hell, this was.
He looked out the window, studying the darkness of the sky, the way the Dark Forest swayed in unison with the gusty winds, the way the moon shone down on the Earth, seemingly incaring of its inhabitants. Why should the moon care, anyways? It was just reflecting the light of the soon, and looking pretty. Harry could imagine the Moon laughing at all the mortals and their pitiful woes. But dammit, it was cold! So Harry decided to mentally curse the Moon as well.
Suddenly overcome with a vicious cough, he decided that he best head back over to his bed and try to make the most of this horrendously cold night. Tripping back, and trying to stifle his coughs, he herd a low moan, and some other noise. Undefineable. Looking around, he surmised that it was coming from Ron's bed. 'Great' Harry thought, 'just fucking wonderful. I'm freezing my arse off and Ron decides to have a nightmare. FanTASTic.' After a second thought, he mentally scolded himself. This was Ron we're talking about here. Best friend? Comerade? Dead sexy bastard? 'Yeah!' Harry thought to himself, trudging his way to Ron's portion of the room. 'Stop being such a self-centered twit, Potter.' Why did his inner voice suddenly sound like Malfoy? Harry cringed. This night was just not a good night at all.
Reaching Ron's bedside, Harry wrenched open the curtains. Expecting to see Ron all caught up in his bedsheets, twisting and turning, he found Ron sitting up and trying to cocoon himself inside a mass of maroon blankets. Harry chuckled.
"A bit chilly tonight, no?" he asked his friend. Ron shot him a glare and nodded. "Do you think," Rons teeth chattered together "we could get all the beds together and build a bonfire? That may keep us a bit warmer, don't you agree?" Harry shrugged. "Of course, we would be warmer that way but. I don't think McGongall would be too happy about that." Ron moaned again and threw himself back down to the bed. "Why is it so bloody cold?!" he sighed, nearly screaming in frustration. Harry rolled his eyes, and carefully climed atop the bed.
"Just to piss the two of us off, I suppose. No one else seems to be awake, so it must not be all that cold to them. Bastards." Harry muttered, a slight smirk playing upon his lips. Ron laughed lightly, and pulled back his blankets as to offer Harry a place to lie down. "Might as well keep each other warm, eh?" Harry feinged shock and outrage. "Why, Mr. Weasley, what are you suggesting?!" Harry cried dramaticly, though eagerly laying down beside Ron and snuggling into his side for the night. Ron merely laughed and buried his his face into the top of Harry's brown mop of hair. "Shut up and go to sleep, Potter." Harry giggled and muttered "Yes ma'am." Which earned him a poke in the ribs from Ron. Harry sighed and snuggled into Ron once more, a content smile upon his face. The curtains wrenched shut, the blankets wrapped tight around the two..
Ahh. Now he was warm.
.[. FiN .].
Authors Note: So yeah. this came to me about an hour ago because it was really fucking cold in my house. Come to think of it. it still it. Prehaps a heater? NO! I shant revert to those modern do-hickeys of false warmth. Teeheehe, so anyways. please Review! ::puppy dog eyes and a mallet:: pweety pwease?