Chapter 8- Frozen

"...tter -Mr. Potter...Mr. Potter!"

Harry woke with a start, levering upright so violently he nearly tipped his chair over backward. He straightened his glasses and blinked, surprised to find himself in the daylight-illuminated Hospital Wing. There was a puddle of drool on the sheets where his head had been laying, but aside from that, there was no evidence that anyone else had occupied the hospital bed before him.

No blood or wrinkles or empty decanters.

Malfoy was gone.

"What in the world are you doing here Mr. Potter?" Madame Pomfrey asked dubiously.

"-Er..sleep walking!" Harry burst out with, bolting to his feet. He hurried from the hospital wing, leaving a very confused Madame Pomfrey in his wake.

Harry stuffed the map into his pocket as he spotted the person he'd been searching for sitting on the East edge of the lake, just like the little black drop of ink. It took Harry a good quarter of an hour to wade through the foot-deep snow built up from the last few snow storms. The Hogwarts Grounds had effectively become an arctic tundra over the past several weeks.

The wind was biting.

"Hey! Malfoy," Harry called, stomach squirming with nerves. He wasn't sure of how Malfoy would receive him after what had happened the night before. He was likely not pleased with Harry for discovering such a secret.

Harry trudged to the end of the dock where the Slytherin was perched, feet dangling above the frozen lake. He peered up at Harry, cheeks nipped pink by the cold.

"So you're just stalking me in broad daylight now?"

Harry plopped himself heavily beside Malfoy, relieved by the typical sarcastic response, "Yup,"

Malfoy frowned. "How the hell did you even find me?"

"I -erm, saw you from Hagrid's," Harry fibbed hastily, smoothing down his cloak pocket where the blank Marauder's Map was folded. He didn't need Malfoy investigating his tracking methods. The sly git would probably figure it out if Harry wasn't careful.

Malfoy gave him a sideways glance but accepted the lie. "Alright then, second question. What the hell do you want?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Harry said incredulously, "You think I'd just let you be after what I saw last night?"

Malfoy snorted, "So is this what you've decided to do, then? Glue yourself to me like Drooble's Best? Until death do us part?"

Harry flushed, "If it's what I have to do to keep you from carrying out Voldemort's dark bidding, then yes," His eyes flicked down to where Malfoy's Dark Mark was hidden. The other boy clutched the spot subconsciously and gave him a sullen glare.

"I don't understand you, Potter," He spat.

"What?"

"You know what, you ass. Are you just toying with me? Why haven't you run off to McGonagall or the bloody Headmaster to share your discovery?" Malfoy said angrily.

Harry gave pause. It was a valid question. He pursed his lips and looked out across the lake. "I've decided not to. For now, anyway,"

"Why?"

Harry sighed, his breath coming out as a thick mist. "Because if I did, I think you'd be expelled,"

"Isn't that the point?" Malfoy hissed.

Harry took his eyes from the distant tree line and looked at Malfoy. The blonde was tense and watching him wearily, like a fox staring up the shaft of a drawn bow. Frightened, but too proud to panic. Harry considered his position of power as he formulated a response.

"You know I overheard everything you told Moaning Myrtle all those weeks ago," Harry answered slowly, "That's why you were so angry, right? You were ready to cast an unforgivable on me just because I'd heard something I wasn't supposed to,"

Malfoy's adam's apple bobbed against his green striped scarf. He didn't deny it.

Harry continued. "Based on what you said that night, if I went to Dumbledore and you were expelled, Voldemort would kill you and your family, wouldn't he?'

It was Malfoy's turn to let his eyes drift across the lake. His gaze was so sharp it would probably cut steel.

"Oh yes. Without hesitation,"

Harry sucked in a breath. He'd known the truth but it was harder to hear it confirmed so resolutely. "Then that's why I won't tell,"

Malfoy's brow knitted. "So let's get this straight. You don't want me expelled because that will get me killed, but you aren't going to let me continue working on my mission?"

"That's right," Harry said, tilting his chin up in affirmation, "I'll do everything in my power to stop you from making any more progress with whatever the hell Voldemort's told you to do. No matter if I have to tail you all day and all night for the rest of the year,"

The Slytherin rolled his eyes sardonically. He scoffed, "You're not making sense. You do realize that not finishing my mission is just as much a death sentence as being tossed out? So it's die now or die later. What's the difference?"

"-Well maybe there's an alternative. I've been thinking...what if I can help you find a way to escape instead? I mean, it can't be impossible and we have time to make a plan. It's not like Voldemort can touch you while you're here at Hogwarts, right?" Harry said in a hurry.

Malfoy looked genuinely shocked for a moment before shaking his head, "Simmer down Golden Boy. I know your Gryffindor senses are tingling, but I'm not your next rescue mission, alright? And you don't need to worry about tailing me. I'd already made up my mind to call off the mission before you came butting in,"

"Really?"

Malfoy gripped his left forearm tightly, "Just because I've got this ugly mark doesn't mean I'm going to bow down and be a good little underling. The Dark Lord has ripped my life to utter shreds so I've just as much reason as the rest of you to want him gone,"

"But if you'd already decided that, why were you holed up in the Room of Requirement yesterday? And how are you planning to evade Voldemort?"

"We're not friendly, Potter. Why would I tell you?"

"We could be," Harry said with a shrug.

Malfoy's eyebrows disappeared beneath his bangs. "Have you gone mad?"

"I think you should let me help you,"

"Do you know how absurd that sounds?" Malfoy said with a smirk. "We've literally been enemies since the first day we met. And moreover, this is an odd time to start getting chummy. There's never been a time when we were more polarized. You're the bloody Chosen One and I'm an officially appointed Death Eater,"

"But you're a shit Death Eater," Harry said with a grin.

"Fuck you, Potter,"

"It was a compliment!"

Malfoy laughed. Genuinely chuckled. The sound gave Harry a strange sense of satisfaction. He felt like he'd been working with an ice pick and finally managed to crack a layer.

"Just think about it, okay? And don't do anything stupid in the meantime. Now I'm going back to the castle. It's bloody freezing! How long have you been sitting out here anyway?" Harry wiped the snow from his behind as he stood and trudged back onto land.

"Aren't you coming?" He called over his shoulder.

The next thing Harry heard was a great splintering splash. He whipped around in surprise.

"What the hell?" Harry stared at the spot where Malfoy should have been. It seemed he had vanished into thin air. Alarmed, Harry hiked his robes up and bounded back onto the dock. He came to a stop where the planks ended and peered over the edge.

"Shit,"

There was a disconcertingly Malfoy-sized hole in the ice, black churning water sloshing up over the edges.

"Shit, shit, shit," He cursed, watching the water settle with no sign of the Slytherin. Knowing there may be little time to spare, Harry ripped off his gloves and frantically unfastened his cloak before tossing it aside and moving down to his boots. He was nearly ready to dive in when Malfoy suddenly broke the surface, spluttering and coughing as if he'd hauled himself from the very bottom of the lake.

He doggy paddled clumsily to the shelf of the ice hole and clung to it meekly.

"Malfoy! What the hell are you doing down there?!" Harry yelled.

The blonde looked up with chattering teeth, hair plastered to his head. "I thought I'd just take a quick dip since the weather was so nice. Merlin, what does it look like? I fell in! Now stop standing there like an imbecile and help me!"

Malfoy slowly took in Harry's discarded cloak and unlaced boots. "You weren't getting ready to jump in, were you? You're a bloody wizard, Potter! Your wand! Use your wand!" The ice Malfoy was gripping chose that moment to crumble, sending him back under for a split second before he came up again, cursing and splashing. The ice further out was thick enough to hold a boulder but it was fairly thin around the dock's shelter. Malfoy struggled to tread water against the weight of his robes until he found another edge that agreed to hold him.

"Right, right," Harry squatted down to his cloak and fished his wand from an inner pocket.

But what spell should he use? He wracked his brain. The dock was set about 6 feet above the water so he couldn't do something as simple as lower a rope.

"Sometime t-this decade, P-Potter," Malfoy said, trembling from the cold.

"I've got it!" Levicorpus! He thought with a triumphant flick of his wand. The effect was instantaneous. Malfoy was cartwheeled upside as if someone had tied a rope around his ankle and tugged. The Slytherin's squawk of surprise was doused as he was dragged beneath the water ass over teakettle before levitating high enough for Harry to reach out and grasp the hem of his robes.

With a great heave, Harry hauled Malfoy into his arms.

Liberacorpus! The counter spell sent them both sprawling to the snowy dock in a sopping heap, Malfoy coughing and choking. Harry helped the blonde right himself and pounded his back until he spat up a fair amount of lake water.

"You did that- on purpose," Malfoy accused breathlessly.

"I swear I didn't! That was the only spell I could think of!"

Malfoy gave him a withering look.

"How the hell did you fall in, anyway?"

"I s-stood up t-too quickly," Malfoy said, shivering. He used his teeth to peel off his dripping mittens before cupping his hands to his mouth and blowing with a pained grimace. His fingers were pale as bone.

"So you fainted?"

"No. Malfoy's don't faint,"

"Swooned, then?"

"Sod off, s-scar head. I was dizzy and lost my b-balance," Malfoy growled. He didn't look so menacing when he was shaking harder than a frightened toy poodle. If only Hermione were there. She'd be able to conjure a magical fire, or likely knew a spell that dried clothes. Unfortunately, Harry knew nothing of the sort.

"That's what you get for sitting out in the cold after losing all that blood yesterday. And here I thought Slytherin's were known for their common sense," Harry stood up and held out his hand. "Come on. You've got to get up to the castle before you turn into an icicle,"

Malfoy glared at Harry's offered hand and staggered to his feet on his own accord, robes heavy and dripping.

They set off silently, treading the lake's perimeter towards the twinkling castle together. Harry kept discretely peering over his shoulder to make sure Malfoy wasn't falling behind. The longer they walked, the slower Malfoy's pace seemed to grow.

They had just made it past the broom shed when Harry looked back to find Malfoy sunken to his knees, whole body quaking with rigors.

"B-bloody, h-hell," Malfoy stammered as Harry quickly backtracked to his side, a surge of guilt flooding him. Malfoy's drenched cloak was beginning to freeze in places and was undoubtedly chilling him faster.

Without asking, Harry bent down and began unfastening the ice-encrusted clasp at Malfoy's throat.

"H-hands off, P-Potter. What the h-hell do you t-think you're d-doing?" He said through clattering teeth.

"Helping you," Harry said, undoing the buttons all the way down. Malfoy gasped as the wet material was peeled away before Harry bundled him with the Gryffindor-red cloak from his own shoulders. He next grasped Malfoy's wrists and stuffed his dry mittens over Malfoy's colorless hands.

"There. Now hurry up before the sun sets completely and it gets even colder," Harry shivered a bit himself. The damn wind seemed to be picking up.

The rest of the journey was short but unpleasant as Harry, cloak-less, carried Malfoy's sopping coat in one arm while concomitantly keeping its cold-clumsy owner from landing face-first in the snow. The blonde's coordination rivaled that of a whiskey-drunk sailor by the end of it.

Harry thanked the heavens above when they finally staggered into the entrance hall, Malfoy leaning heavily against him, blue-lipped and body humming with shivers.

"We need to get you to the hospital wing. I think you've got hypothermia," Harry said.

"No. I'm f-fine," Malfoy undraped his arm from Harry's shoulder and groped for the wall to sag against.

Harry gestured to Malfoy's posture in exasperation. "You've got to be kidding me. You can barely stand on your own!"

"I'm not going to the hospital wing. That's f-final. Just need to get to my dorm -out of these clothes," He said brokenly. It seemed to take every ounce of effort to straighten himself. He only made it three steps towards the dungeons before losing his balance. Harry predicted the fall and caught Malfoy by the waist.

"I'll just carry you there myself if you refuse," Harry threatened. "This is ridiculous! What do you have against the hospital wing!?"

"I'll hex you, P-potter," Malfoy said, a slur to his speech. "Damn this dizziness,"

Harry bit his lip, fairly certain he could overpower the other boy if he needed to, but he didn't fancy dragging the Slytherin kicking and screaming through the castle either.

"Fine. If you won't go to the hospital wing, at least come up to my common room so I can help. I don't think you're in much of a state to do anything for yourself. I'm the only Gryffindor who stayed for holiday so no one would notice,"

Malfoy moaned, "At this point, I don't care. Just not the hospital wing,"

Relieved they'd come to a compromise, Harry shouldered Malfoy's arm, the whole scene extremely reminiscent of the night before.

"It's one thing after another with you," Harry muttered under his breath.

The Fat Lady was fortunately still too hungover from Christmas to be concerned with Harry smuggling in a Slytherin and swung her portrait open with no objection.

Malfoy was disturbingly quiet as Harry lead him through the circle entrance and over to the fireplace. He carefully lowered Malfoy onto the carpet in front of the flames.

"Now stay here and -er, I'll get you something to wear,"

Malfoy blinked up at him apathetically, which Harry took as "alright then I'll wait here,"

Harry pelted up the steps and rummaged through his trunk, grabbing a warm-looking sweater, a pair of sweat pants, thick woolen socks, a mound of blankets, and, with a stroke of genius, a half dose of pepper-up potion leftover from a recent cold. Arms full, he skipped two steps at a time to get back to the den.

"I know these aren't your colors, but they're really warm so I think they'll do..." Harry's sentence trailed off as his eyes fell to Malfoy who was lying motionless in front of the flames, sprawled and limp as if downed by a stunner. His skin was mottled blue in the dancing light and he was still as stone.

Harry fumbled the pile of things onto the couch and rushed to his knees aside the blonde, hovering fretful hands over Malfoy, almost afraid to touch him.

He looked dead.

What if he was dead?! The longer Harry stared at Malfoy's chest the more he realized he couldn't discern a rise and fall.

"Malfoy, hey, -Malfoy!" Harry finally shouted, shaking the Slytherin's shoulders in a panic.

To his great surprise, Malfoy swore eloquently and cracked his eyes open. "-hell's the matter with you? D'you frequently assault sleeping people?"

"Oh thank God. For a minute I thought...never mind," Harry said, feeling obscenely awkward.

Malfoy's brow furrowed in confusion as he studied Harry much too intently for the Gryffindor's liking. He finally opened his mouth and spoke, "Y'know, your eyes look really green when you blush like that. I've never noticed them before. They're nice,"

"Excuse me?" Harry spluttered, the blush likely deepening three shades after a comment like that.

Malfoy looked both unfazed, and unaware that he'd said anything out of the ordinary. He just sighed heavily and closed his eyes. "It isn't fair,"

"What isn't fair?"

"That you get to be The Chosen One and be bloody good looking at the same time," He slurred tiredly.

"Y-you think I'm good looking?"

"You are, Potter. D'you even own a mirror?" Malfoy reluctantly opened his eyes again to peer at Harry. He frowned, "Hm, maybe not, judging by the state of your hair. It could really stand to be brushed. Nice color, though. Very dark and sultry,"

"Sultry!?"

"It means devilishly attractive," Malfoy mumbled, letting his eyes close once more.

"I know what it- oh God. Look. Malfoy. You're not in your right mind. We've got to get you warmed up and out of those wet clothes,"

Malfoy did not bother opening his eyes to respond, "Mm, very tempting but I usually don't do that sort of thing on the first date,"

He looked dead again after laying still for a few moments.

"Great, just great," Harry muttered, leaning forward and undoing the buttons down Malfoy's front. After that, Harry suffered quite a struggle to disrobe the uncooperative Slytherin, first from the Gryffindor cloak, then from the sweater and button-up beneath which were sopping wet and clung to Malfoy like a suction cup. The pants were the worst of it, seeing that Harry refused to catch a glimpse of anything he shouldn't. He incommodiously blanketed Malfoy's bottom half while stripping off the wet trousers and undergarments before working on the dry replacements.

Malfoy didn't seem to care either way. He was boneless as a fish through most of it, skin like ice to the touch despite the heat of the hearth. Harry was beginning to worry. Perhaps he should have dragged the blonde to the Hospital Wing after all. Harry was no healer, but if Malfoy was cold enough to be mentally altered, it had to be serious.

Why else would he be complimenting Harry? It was completely insane.

Malfoy whined as Harry finally propped him upright against one of the cushy armchairs near the fire. "Alright Malfoy, I need you to-"

"You need me?" Malfoy slurred.

"-I want you to drink this. It should help warm you up," Harry grit. Damn Slytherin. Sarcastic to the hilt even when half frozen to death. He uncorked the vial of Pepper-up potion and held it out.

"I can't. I don't feel well," Malfoy moaned pitifully, eyes barely open.

"But this will make you feel better," Harry bargained, as if with a child.

Malfoy reluctantly allowed Harry to press the vial to his lips, throat working as he took a swallow of the peppery potion.

"That's dreadful," Malfoy coughed, a puff of steam issuing from his ears. The potion's effect was visibly noticeable, drawing a tint of color into Malfoy's face after just a few seconds. The blonde blinked around the common room more lucidly after a moment, looking as if a heavy fog had lifted. He hugged himself and shivered soberly.

"Are you...better?" Harry asked.

"No, I'm cold," Malfoy grimaced, clutching his head. "And I feel like I've got an awful hangover,"

Harry handed Malfoy the vial of Pepper-Up potion. "I think you'd better finish this,"

Malfoy took it from him, trembling. He greedily accepted the blanket Harry draped over his shoulders too.

"Merlin, I'm in the lion's den, aren't I?" Malfoy said, looking around the room with a hint of distaste.

"You agreed to this, remember?"

"I'm not sure I do, but I'm also not sure I care," Malfoy set the empty vial aside and gingerly lowered himself onto the carpet before burrowing beneath the blanket in a quivering ball.

Harry settled his back against the couch and drew his arms around his legs, basking in the odd reality that Draco Malfoy was currently laying beside him like a cat curled before the fire. Harry strictly suppressed the odd swell of fondness, a completely ludicrous thing to be feeling for his rival.

"Malfoy?" Harry tried after a span had passed.

When the other boy didn't answer, Harry peered over the edge of the blanket curiously. As he'd suspected, Malfoy was already asleep.

Harry sighed and shook his head before covering the Slytherin with another blanket, finding the motion downright preposterous. He was tucking in his 6-year-Slytherin-enemy, for goodness sake, and in the middle of Gryffindor Common room, no less. If Ron and Hermione could see him now they wouldn't believe their eyes.

The civility was not supposed to be a habit but it almost seemed impossible to avoid at this point.

I'm a terrible fanfictioner -it takes me so long to upload. So sorry! As always, apologies for grammar/spelling issues I missed.

Thank you so so so much for follows/favs/reviews. Anonymous, you rock and I hope you know this.