Jacket

"Won't you be cold?" it is too early on a Saturday-morning. The red blinds of the four-poster are drawn shut tightly, a spell sealing them together easily. He has the blankets firm around his hips and holding them up to his chest because the dorm is freezing, though he knows the fire is still roaring downstairs in the common room. Though he has those strong arms wrapped around his body, and a warm chest pressing into his back, he can already feel the chill squirming its way up under his skin, "Take my jacket baby, I don't want you to be cold."

"Well if you'd hold me tighter maybe I wouldn't be so cold," Draco scolds and feels the effect of his words immediately. Ron accommodates his legs around Draco's so they are meshed together absolutely everywhere, and he can feel Ron's morning erection against his lower back but it's okay, "Your friends will know I'm wearing your jacket Ronald. They're not thick enough not to recognise your clothing."

"I don't care," a soft kiss is pressed to Draco's shoulder and he shivers, but not from the cold, "They can know."

"Don't say it like that," Draco turns to face the redhead, his look stern, even more so when he only sees complete honesty swirling in Ron's eyes, "I might be foolish enough to think you're serious."

There is a dry chortle, but Ron's eyes don't shift and Draco feels his heart go thudthumpthuck and the innuendo is so thick he thinks he might be losing it.

"I am serious," his voice is so far from joking, it's not even funny anymore. The apparent shock for once seeps into Draco's reflexion and immediately Ron grasps his face, keeping it turned to him and then he does that thing where he kisses Draco's forehead and it makes him feel so loved, but at the same time, he wants to burst into tears, "Draco, I'm serious. I don't care if they see you in my sweater, because it's just damn sexy and I like seeing you and knowing that whatever you do, you have to think of me because I'm there in that stupid clothing-item," he blushes at his own words but Draco smiles because maybe they're both just as sentimental, and even if it's a little giddy, that's who they are, "Please wear my jacket?"

He turns properly so he can link his hands together behind Ron's back, pressing himself into the big chest, the arms encompassing him completely, and in that moment, he is no longer cold.

They kiss and Draco's hands grasp onto the freckled back, dragging him in even closer because if all he has to offer is this, he wants to feel it all until the very last second.

Ron helps him into the jacket after he's finished dressing properly. It's never very wise to walk around Hogwarts completely naked, no matter what time it is, so he wears his black slacks and t-shirt, slipping into his sneakers before lacing them up properly. He's about to bid his farewells when he feels the heated naked chest slide into his back and then the arms are back around his waist. A kiss is pressed to his temple before Ron takes one hand and slips it into the too-big sleeve of his old, grey jacket.

It's comfortable and smells like Ronald.

That night—or well, early morning—when he returns to his own bed, he strips naked and then wears it to cover his bare flesh. He falls asleep hugging himself around his waist and in his dreams it's almost like that stupid Weasley is right there.

When he wakes up, he believes it too, for just a minute. He has his smell in his nose and his taste on his lips. But then he remembers it's just the jacket and it almost makes him want to curse the damn thing, before he remembers that this means he gets to smell like Ronald all day.

He knows it shouldn't make him smile.

It does anyway.

They gather outside the main entrance for the roll-calling and he arrives a little late—having sex until three in the morning and then getting up at five to make sure not to wake any Gryffindors is proving not to be very sustaining for his sleeping habits—zipping up Ronald's jacket all the way to the top. He's not willing to go into another discussion with Zabini about his love bites, and this time, he is sure Blaise won't notice the strange sweater. It's one of Ron's tighter ones—which make his arm muscles bulk in the most delicious way, and frames his tight belly just perfectly—and isn't all that much too big. It could pass off as Draco's own, hands down.

He has barely passed the all-too-familiar group of Gryffindors when Blaise points a finger at him and howls: "turn your ass right back inside mister!" marching over with a determined look on his face.

Potter looks up at the commotion and Pansy makes attempts to follow Blaise before she's stopped by Crabbe and Goyle with a knowing look.

"What is it this time Zabini?" Draco snaps, burying his hands in the pockets of Ron's sweater. He inhales deeply and wants to smile as the comforting smell fills his senses, but he refrains at Blaise's firm look.

"That is not your sweater!" the black boy seethes, "We're going to Hogsmeade and I demand you dress properly!"

"I am dressed properly," Draco reasons, cuddling the fabric, "Besides, it's damn cold! You're wearing a jacket as well!"

"Yes," Blaise hisses, "My own Marc Jacobs jacket! What's that, an authentic Wizzmart?"

His voice is mocking and demeaning and plain damn cruel and though Draco logically knows Blaise has no idea the jacket is Ron's, he's still angry that his best friend would insult his lover like that—though he knows just as well that there's a fat chance Ron did indeed get the jacket at Wizzmart.

"Fuck you," Draco retaliated, "It's none of your business where I get my clothes!"

"It is my business when you get them off someone else!" Blaise snatches at the hood, "As if your father would buy you something of such derogatory fabric!"

"Oh fuck this, I can't do this," Draco positively growls, unzipping the jacket and whirling around so fast it makes Blaise dizzy. He stomps over to Ron quite gracefully, pushing the jacket into the redhead's hands, Potter's eyes wide, "I know it's all sorts of sexy when I wear your stuff and as much as I really don't care to admit it, freckles, I love having your scent on me all day but I'm not going to suffer through another headache brought on by that bitch's nagging just so you can be sure I don't catch a cold," he huffs, hugging himself tightly, "I promise I will make it up to you later, fuck,you know I will, but right now, I'm afraid this is as sexy as it's going to get."

Ron smiles softly, ignores Harry strategically, and holds the sweater to his chest.

"Don't worry about it," he says, "maybe next time."

Draco nods approvingly and returns to his friend, who stands there, looking at the Gryffindors in shock, long after the blonde has rejoined the other Slytherins.

AN: yeah... wall mart. What can I say? For a writer, I can hardly be called creative éh.