Disclaimer: Unfortunately, canon Draco belongs to Ms. JK Rowling
Author's Note: I hate to call this a companion piece to 'Heat', because really, it's nothing like it. On the other hand, as 'Heat' showed off Harry's passion, this one shows off Draco's dispassion. I think it's hard to really like this as it's so detached, but really, what are the Malfoys if not detached? Anyway, give it a read, a review maybe.
Cold
It's strange, Draco thinks, how there seems to be nothing quite warm in his life.
Malfoy Manor, even in the scorching sun is never quite heated. Drafty halls and shaded stone passed through by chilled ghosts wouldn't feel warm even if on fire. That's all right though, a cool breeze is a common occurrence, one that can easily be fixed with a cloak.
There was never warmth between Draco and his father. He has never loved Lucius Malfoy. Never have the words loathe or despise crossed his mind, but admiration and mentor. His father leads by example, and is proud in some aspects of his son's life, but there has always been a detachment there. When Lucius was sent to Azkaban there was a loss of presence in the Manor, a loss of voice taken up by his mother, but not much else. Draco is still proud of his father, and despite the fact that some (possibly Harry Potter) had hoped he would come out proclaiming hatred towards his family, unmasking the good beneath he doesn't think that this will happen.
He doesn't see anything wrong with his life. He's never felt resentment towards Lucius for anything. It's just a logical understanding.
Narcissa Malfoy has never been much of a mother. Draco doesn't mind this either. Lucius Malfoy was the love in her life, more so than her son was, and Draco knows this, has always known it instinctively.
He watched as she drew away more as the months of summer vacation passed. Never saying much, but then really, much never needed to be said. She would scarce bat an eye when mentioning Lucius, didn't tell her son that she was now away from a spell he had cast on her. Life continued, with an extra bit of pain, but what's one more scale on the dragon's hide?
It was only when his Hogwarts letter had arrived, early in August that Draco had watched something startling. As she sat there while her son read his letter, she began to tremble and then to cry. It was as if the realization had suddenly come that in a few short weeks she would be left to tread the drafty halls of Malfoy Manor with nothing but a few house elves for company.
Unsure of what to say or do, Draco patted her back awkwardly a few times. Narcissa has never been much for showing affection through touch.
Everything was sorted in a few minutes. She straightened, wiped her eyes and things returned to normal, except possibly for the prolonged squeeze she gave his shoulder on the platform next to the Hogwarts Express.
The dungeons at Hogwarts are never warm, especially in the winter when snow is piling on the windowsills. Draco imagines that the other House common rooms crackle merrily with fire, and everything is soft and cozy. He doesn't mind much that the fireplaces in the Slytherin common room don't offer much more than flickering light and faint heat. Stone is hard to warm, he knows this.
That night, Draco throws another blanket on the bed before he goes to sleep.