Drarry Oneshots (𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆)

Body Heat

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Author: Ladderofyears ( on ao3)

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"It looks like rain," I said, casting an eye across the skyline.

Clouds had gathered at the edge of the horizon, grey tinged and threatening. This wasn't brilliant broomstick weather but then I've never been able to say no to Harry Potter. I bit down on my lip "I think, perhaps, that we might live to regret this."

The bespectacled prat actually had the audacity to smirk at me.

"Don't be such a wet blanket," Potter replied, not bothering to hide the laughter in his voice. "It's bloody August. It won't rain. Besides, even if it did – and it won't! – I think a few drops of rain would do you the world of good. You look like you're about to melt in your posh boy get up."

I grimaced. The Chosen One was right on the wand as he always was. I'd worn a flannel shirt and corduroys for our ride out to the south coast, not wanting to catch the sun too badly. Protective potions don't do a whit to stop my skin from burning and I hadn't wanted to look too much like a boiled lobster by the time evening rolled around.

One does need to retain some degree of dignity.

"I'll take your word for it then," I replied, rolling my eyes and hooking the strap of my satchel over my shoulder. "Aren't you the lucky one? As well as your Order of Merlin and your most-fanciable-wizard prizes you can see into the future! If only were all so gifted, Potter."

Potter wasn't put off my sarcasm. I'd said far worse in the past and he'd kept coming back for more of my friendship. All the prat did was roll his eyes and straddle his Firebolt.

"Oh, I'm a man with many talents," Potter said, giving me a nod, "and you haven't experienced half of them. Now if you'd get on the back of this bloody broom before the afternoon vanishes faster than your reputation? I want to eat our picnic on the beach."

I sighed and I hooked my leg over the wooden handle. There'd never been a second of doubt, really. I'd follow Potter to the ends of the earth if he asked me.

"I still think we'll get drenched," I answered, needing the last word as I always did. I settled my hands on Potter's hips, clutching tight to the denim of his blue Muggle jeans. "Still, you know best. Remind me why we're not Flooing there like sane people?"

Harry kicked us off the ground and we levitated just meters in the air.

"Because we're young and we're lucky enough to bloody fly. Go ahead Malfoy. You can still Floo if you wish, but remember I'll be up there with the wind in my hair and the breeze on my skin. You'll be down here sweating like a crup in a greenhouse."

I harrumphed. I'm plenty of things, but a fool isn't one of them and I knew when to be quiet. Besides Potter wanted me closer to him and I wasn't about to argue about that state of affairs.

He took my hands in his own and pulled them around his middle, resting them on the leather of his belt buckle. Then, with a nod of Potter's potent wandless magic we launched up into the air. That first whoosh when you leave the ground hasn't ever gotten old and I couldn't help but grin as I lay my head across Potter's shoulder, enjoying the musky scent of the man and the feeling of having him close. Potter was right – he's always right, the great bloody git – the power and freedom of flying is intoxicating. There's nothing quite like it.

And Potter? He's an astonishing flyer. I wouldn't say it to his face – bloody hell, his head is big enough already – but he'd be a star in any Quidditch team on the planet. The arse knew it too.