Where Harry mistakes Draco for a Snowflake
And lo! She bringeth more (belated) Christmassy fluff!
*goes back to the Excel sheets in the palm-tree adorned office*
A/N: Written for the Winter Wonderland prompt on
serpentinelion
::
All this fucking white made it impossible to see.
Harry shuddered involuntarily, drawing the shimmer of magic close around him. The warming charm made a faint sizzle and pop sound, crisp and frail against the banshee wail of the wind below.
He crouched down, huddling into a little ball.
The cliff jutted out over the chasm, demarcating stone from darkness like a new horizon. Snow tumbled wistfully out of the clouds, over the edge.
In the early morning light, against the fading stars, the snowflakes looked like twirling fairies.
Harry felt very cold, and wet, and tired. His Weasley jumper was soaked through. After listening to the howling of the wind for four hours straight, he felt as if he was going deaf.
All in all, he was not a very happy bunny.
Burrowing deeper into his cloak, Harry toed the little slump of ice by his foot into something that resembled two fishballs piled on top of each other, or a snowman. Looking at his handiwork, feeling the numbness creep up his hands, Harry pouted.
After a moment’s hesitation, he grudgingly pulled out the piece of string that had been threatening to molt from his jumper, and fashioned it into something resembling a mouth for his two lumps of snow.
::
‘Oi.’
Harry blinked muzzily. Sunlight was pouring into the little cliff-hole he had crawled into at - oh, two in the morning.
Something was nudging against his foot.
Feeling a suspicious poke to his belly, Harry growled half-heartedly, shifting against cold rock. Whatever monster it was could eat him. He felt too weak and stringy to care.
At least he wouldn’t make a decent breakfast, he thought sleepily. Ha.
He heard a faint rumbling, sort of like a heathen monster stirring bowels of the earth, or a rather nasally voice muttering to itself, before warm arms surrounded him, and picked him up.
Harry sighed. He mashed his head against the soft, scratchy surface that was pressed against his cheek.
His last thought before drifting off was a fervent hope - that the crushing noise he heard wasn’t actually his snowman being stepped on.
::
When Harry woke up properly, it was to jingles.
Or, rather, an ever-present jingling in his ear that he attributed to his near-encounter with hearing loss.
He peered around, and saw that, though the view on his right was to be expected - a startling, blinding landscape of white on white - his left view was rather peculiarly obstructed by rows upon rows of multicoloured zig-zags in silver and green.
Oh my god. Harry thought. I’ve gone blind!!!
‘No, you haven’t, nitwit.’ A rather abrupt voice erupted from above him. ‘And for god’s sake stop shouting.’
Harry raised his eyes - up, up - and saw the shimmering, angelic halo of light that could only be Malfoy hair. He groaned.
‘That’s right, Potter.’ That infernally smug voice piped up again. ‘Guess who got lost during the annual Auror Christmas getaway, and had to be rescued like a gormless little kitten?’
Harry closed his eyes resolutely. If he closed his eyes, maybe he could pretend this hadn’t happened.
‘And -‘ the annoying voice continued cheerfully, ‘guess who forgot to cast the most elementary Find-Me! Charm, the one taught at first day of Auror school, and instead chose to cling to the mountainside like the world’s greatest git - which he is?’
Harry mumbled something against the cashmere that might’ve been ‘snow scrambl’d m’magic’ or ‘ihateyou’ or ‘mmmf’ - Draco really didn’t think it was worth deciphering.
‘And who had to be picked up, like a damsel, by the world’s most dashing, resourceful, and all-round wonderful Auror?’ If that voice got any more cheerful, Harry thought ungratefully, rainbows would start spouting out of its arse.
‘Self-praise is no praise, Malfoy.’ Harry croaked, hoarsely. He clung to Draco as he tripped delicately over a rather large puddle of slush, feeling dizzy.
Malfoy was such a poncy git.
‘No worries, Potter dear.’ Harry could hear the smarminess leaking out of the git’s face, and shuddered. ‘I’ve got you.’
‘Hmph.’ Harry burrowed closer, listening to the funny thump-thump of Draco’s heart.
He refused to think that he felt even the slightest bit warm, or safe, or comforted, now that Draco was here.
‘Aww… is ickle Harry still feeling sleepy?’ Draco shifted Harry closer to him, and smiled a bit maniacally at the sodden tufts of hair peeking out from silver and green.
‘Just - just shut up, Malfoy. And,’ Harry heaved a breath, smelling Malfoy’s particular stinky smell, like vanilla and musk, ‘Take me home.’
::
He sings a love song
as we go along
*goes back to the Excel sheets in the palm-tree adorned office*
A/N: Written for the Winter Wonderland prompt on
serpentinelion
::
All this fucking white made it impossible to see.
Harry shuddered involuntarily, drawing the shimmer of magic close around him. The warming charm made a faint sizzle and pop sound, crisp and frail against the banshee wail of the wind below.
He crouched down, huddling into a little ball.
The cliff jutted out over the chasm, demarcating stone from darkness like a new horizon. Snow tumbled wistfully out of the clouds, over the edge.
In the early morning light, against the fading stars, the snowflakes looked like twirling fairies.
Harry felt very cold, and wet, and tired. His Weasley jumper was soaked through. After listening to the howling of the wind for four hours straight, he felt as if he was going deaf.
All in all, he was not a very happy bunny.
Burrowing deeper into his cloak, Harry toed the little slump of ice by his foot into something that resembled two fishballs piled on top of each other, or a snowman. Looking at his handiwork, feeling the numbness creep up his hands, Harry pouted.
After a moment’s hesitation, he grudgingly pulled out the piece of string that had been threatening to molt from his jumper, and fashioned it into something resembling a mouth for his two lumps of snow.
::
‘Oi.’
Harry blinked muzzily. Sunlight was pouring into the little cliff-hole he had crawled into at - oh, two in the morning.
Something was nudging against his foot.
Feeling a suspicious poke to his belly, Harry growled half-heartedly, shifting against cold rock. Whatever monster it was could eat him. He felt too weak and stringy to care.
At least he wouldn’t make a decent breakfast, he thought sleepily. Ha.
He heard a faint rumbling, sort of like a heathen monster stirring bowels of the earth, or a rather nasally voice muttering to itself, before warm arms surrounded him, and picked him up.
Harry sighed. He mashed his head against the soft, scratchy surface that was pressed against his cheek.
His last thought before drifting off was a fervent hope - that the crushing noise he heard wasn’t actually his snowman being stepped on.
::
When Harry woke up properly, it was to jingles.
Or, rather, an ever-present jingling in his ear that he attributed to his near-encounter with hearing loss.
He peered around, and saw that, though the view on his right was to be expected - a startling, blinding landscape of white on white - his left view was rather peculiarly obstructed by rows upon rows of multicoloured zig-zags in silver and green.
Oh my god. Harry thought. I’ve gone blind!!!
‘No, you haven’t, nitwit.’ A rather abrupt voice erupted from above him. ‘And for god’s sake stop shouting.’
Harry raised his eyes - up, up - and saw the shimmering, angelic halo of light that could only be Malfoy hair. He groaned.
‘That’s right, Potter.’ That infernally smug voice piped up again. ‘Guess who got lost during the annual Auror Christmas getaway, and had to be rescued like a gormless little kitten?’
Harry closed his eyes resolutely. If he closed his eyes, maybe he could pretend this hadn’t happened.
‘And -‘ the annoying voice continued cheerfully, ‘guess who forgot to cast the most elementary Find-Me! Charm, the one taught at first day of Auror school, and instead chose to cling to the mountainside like the world’s greatest git - which he is?’
Harry mumbled something against the cashmere that might’ve been ‘snow scrambl’d m’magic’ or ‘ihateyou’ or ‘mmmf’ - Draco really didn’t think it was worth deciphering.
‘And who had to be picked up, like a damsel, by the world’s most dashing, resourceful, and all-round wonderful Auror?’ If that voice got any more cheerful, Harry thought ungratefully, rainbows would start spouting out of its arse.
‘Self-praise is no praise, Malfoy.’ Harry croaked, hoarsely. He clung to Draco as he tripped delicately over a rather large puddle of slush, feeling dizzy.
Malfoy was such a poncy git.
‘No worries, Potter dear.’ Harry could hear the smarminess leaking out of the git’s face, and shuddered. ‘I’ve got you.’
‘Hmph.’ Harry burrowed closer, listening to the funny thump-thump of Draco’s heart.
He refused to think that he felt even the slightest bit warm, or safe, or comforted, now that Draco was here.
‘Aww… is ickle Harry still feeling sleepy?’ Draco shifted Harry closer to him, and smiled a bit maniacally at the sodden tufts of hair peeking out from silver and green.
‘Just - just shut up, Malfoy. And,’ Harry heaved a breath, smelling Malfoy’s particular stinky smell, like vanilla and musk, ‘Take me home.’
::
He sings a love song
as we go along