A/N: Dialogue-only. Fluffy H/D. Squee!
Warnings: Slash.
Disclaimer: The boys do not belong to me, but JK Rowling.

What's So Special

"Hey, Potter."

"Malfoy."

"You're alone?"

"Looks that way."

"Where're the freaks?"

"Wha–who?"

"You know, the Bush and the Weasel–"

"They aren't freaks, Draco, and they're in Hogsmeade–"

"Of course they're freaks. –God, stop looking at me like that, I was kidding."

"You've been kidding for the last seventeen years?"

"Of course I have. I love to joke."

"Don't you just."

"I hear sarcasm in your voice, Potter." The bed creaks. "The bed creaks."

"It's because you sat on it. Shove over. What are you doing here?"

"The question is, what are you doing here?"

"What sort of drug are you taking now, Malfoy?"

"Shut up, Potter." A two-second scuffle. "No, really. What are the love-weasels doing down there?"

"They said they want to go there, one last time."

"One last...for Merlin's sake. It's a village."

"No, it's–forget it. You wouldn't get it."

"Try me."

"I have."

"Potter, don't try to be all sullen and angry. Just tell me what's so special about a stupid wizarding village that happens to be near our school."

"No, you just wouldn't get it."

"Yes, I would! How can't I not get it if you won't even tell me?"

"If you can't even guess–"

Another scuffle; a longer one. "Listen, I've got you pinned. Tell me now, you bastard–"

"Augh, let go of me!" A squeak. "Get off the floor!"

"You put me on the floor!"

"Whatever, whatever–just shut up, okay?"

"I'm not! I won't, not until you tell me–"

"Why's it so important to you, anyway? Didn't you say it was just a stupid village?"

"Yes, but when I don't know something, it bothers me."

"Fuck off."

"Maybe later."

A silence. "Look, you wouldn't get it."

"You've said that already!"

"Because you won't get it!" The bed heaves upwards as weight leaves it. "I'm leaving."

"Where are you going?"

"To hell."

"Don't you try to go there every summer?"

"Very funny. And I don't even try. Why are you following me?"

"Because you said you were going to hell. It's a fucking blizzard outside, you know. Quite cold. Hell is supposed to be really hot–"

"I ask you again–what are you smoking?"

"The snow. The air that's filled with copper. My surname. Your eyes–"

"Forget I asked."

"Why are we going outside?"

"Why are you whining?"

"It's cold outside."

"Too bad." A gust of air. "You weren't kidding."

"I never."

"Hypocrite. Oh, shit. It's freezing. Give me your wand."

"I don't have it–"

"Why the hell not?"

"I didn't think we were going to go outside! I just wanted to stop by in your room for a bit, I didn't think I needed my wand!"

"For once?"

"Didn't we go over this?"

"We did. It never really finished." Shiver. "I guess we'll have to make do. Are you cold?"

"No, absolutely toasty."

"Lucky you. At least we can see." A pause. "Wanna go to Hogsmeade?"

"Why?"

"You wanted to know, didn't you?"

"So what's walking in the freezing cold going to accomplish?"

"Come on, Malfoy, suck it up."

"I've got delicate bones and a fragile immune system, I'll have you know–if I catch pneumonia–"

"–I'll make sure to send you to hell then. It's not a long walk, let's go. I might tell you."

"I'm not sure I want to know anymore. Can't we go back in?"

"No! Stop whining. Appreciate this."

"Why the fuck should I?" Angry mumbling. "'S so cold. Dammit. C-cold..."

"Because–look. Look at the trees, and look ahead, at the village–at the candles. Remember when we were first allowed–well, you were allowed–to go in? Back in 3rd year? Didn't you think it was amazing?"

"I was thirteen, Potter. At thirteen, I thought Pansy was amazing."

"Is that bad?"

"Let's just say that, looking back on it now, I come close to slitting my wrists."

"Er–right. But–just look at it."

"I'm looking." A slight silence. "My eyes are burning."

Oh, he's still trying. "No, Malfoy, look at it. What do you see?"

"Lights. From the candles and the shop windows. Some people. A lot of snow. Some owls."

"Don't you think it's beautiful?"

"Not really, no."

A groan. "God, nevermind. I told you, you wouldn't get it–"

"And I don't! Why is all this so important? I could walk into any village and see this! It's a bloody village–nothing special about it." Some grumbling. "I am so cold. I'm going back into the castle."

"Fine. Go back into the castle."

"Fine, I will." Some thinking. "Go to hell."

"Why don't you? I hear it's summer there."

"Shut the fuck up."

He's far now. "Draco–" He can't hear it. "Draco!"

"What, Potter?"

"Come back, and I'll explain it."

"I don't want to know anymore. It's probably stupid."

"You know, it probably is. But I thought you hated not knowing?"

"I'm a filthy hypocrite, put it on my epitaph. I'm not coming back! I'm nearly to the castle, I'm–"

"–Cold, I know. We'll go up soon. Get back here, I'll keep you warm."

Astonishment. "What? The–the castle is warmer than whatever you could do, I'm sure."

Softly: "The castle doesn't have a heart, does it?" Louder: "Malfoy, just get back here."

Grudgingly, he walks. "I'm here."

"Good. Wanna know?"

"Not really."

"Are you sure? You're never going to come back to Hogwarts after this, and you don't even want to know the revealing secret of why Hogsmeade village is such a special place?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Because it's not special. I have wasted more time and money here than I can count."

"Oh, have you?"

"Yes I have, actually. Like...now."

"You're not wasting any money."

"No, but I'm definitely wasting my time." Glaring. "Are you finished? I can't feel my face."

"What a pity." Smiles. "Wanna change that?"

"Yeah, I wanna go back into the–"

A kiss.

"–oh."

"Better?"

"I–I suppose."

"Still cold?"

"Erm." Nod. "Yes."

Another kiss. "Still?"

"Yeah..."

"Where?"

"–Everywhere."

Smile.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Idiot. I just did."

"What's so special about Hogsmeade? A kiss? Are you serious?"

"No, not the kiss." Another smile. "The memories."

Silence. "How corny."

"But you like it. People like memories, Draco. Ron and Hermione came back to remember them. No matter where you go, you always have them, don't you? And I know you'll never forget that one."

"Potter, you really need to stop reading romance novels."

"Sorry, Hermione has quite a few." Tug. "Wanna go back up to the castle?"

"But I'm colder out here."

Another kiss, and, oh, another one. "That's okay." A butterfly one. "We really don't need to go to hell now."

"Maybe later, when you get tired of this."

"I don't think so. Hmm, I think we should really go up now."

"Yeah...oh." Breath hitch. "Tomorrow, you can tell me what's so special about Hogwarts."

"No, I think you know that already."

"I don't."

"Sorry–I meant–" Kiss, kiss, kiss. "You will. Tonight."

"Potter...I think that's enough memories of Hogsmeade to rival seven years. Please, let's go up to the castle."

"Malfoy, saying please? I must be in an alternate universe."

"Oh, fuck off."

"You mean later."

"Mm–much. So? Let's go."

Deliberation. "One more?"

"No."

"Please?"

"–Fine." Shock. "You said only one more!"

"That was one." Grin. "Let's go."

-fin