Drarry One Shots and Fluff

Hot and Cold

Eighth!year, shared common room

Draco shivered as he sat outside, his cloak wrapped around his entire body, "look, Pans, do we have to sit out here? It's freezing."

Pansy sent a chilling look at him, "get a grip, Draco." She snapped, "it's not even cold." She leaned back and basked in the sun, flicking her hair over her shoulder, "and you don't have to stay with me. Go and mope in the common room or something."

Shivering, Draco shook his head, "you know that place is the worst. I can barely feel my fingers just thinking about it." He complained, "what is the temperature anyway?"

"It's twenty five degrees Celsius," Blaise spoke up, sitting down in a pair of shorts and looking like he was about to remove his shirt as soon as possible, "it is warm and suck it up."

Draco grumbled to himself, standing up and gathering his cloak around him before he stomped off towards the castle. He stuffed his hands under his armpits, attempting to look composed and not like he was freezing his butt off on a boiling hot day in November.

He scowled as he stomped towards the eighth year dormitory, hoping to drown himself under the covers in his bed.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only person in the common room.

The eighth year dormitories was for all students who were retaking their seventh year after the war. There were no houses, only students trying to hold onto their grades as they battle their nightmares and prejudices. The common room was placed in a random classroom in the dungeons where the stones steamed if something too hot touched them and the heating charms the students threw at the rooms barely made a dent in the cold atmosphere. It was hell.

As Draco pushed the door to the common room open, grumbling under his breath, he froze when he saw a figure lying down in the corner, one hand on their forehead.

"Potter?" He asked incredulously.

He grunted, gently pushing his sticky hair off his forehead as he met eyes with Draco, "oh, sod off, Malfoy," he spoke dejectedly.

Draco had never seen someone look so vulnerable in front of him, wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top that was sticking to his chest with sweat. "What is wrong with you?" Draco asked, his famous sneer on his face.

Potter just grunted.

With a shrug, Draco pulled his cloak around him even more and hurried up into the boy's dormitory, climbing under the covers of his bed and casting as many different heating charms as he could remember until his toes starting prickling with pain.

But it wasn't enough. He was still cold.

***

Harry watched with lethargy as Malfoy hurried up the steps to their dormitory, wondering why he was choosing to isolate himself in their room instead of spending time with his friends on such a nice warm day.

Pushing away thoughts of a nice warm day, Harry pressed his head into the cold stones of the dungeon wall. He felt like he was on fire, his fingers shaking in pain and he had long lost the memories of taking a step without the sensation of coals burning the soles of his feet. He felt like he was slowly melting into a pool of sweat, bare toes pressing against the floor doing nothing to ease his pain.

He barely noticed himself slipping into the foetal position, hot sticky tears burning down his cheeks and steaming as soon as they left his body. He was in so much pain and it was just growing hotter and hotter and hotter. It was like he was going to combust.

He vaguely heard someone talking and tried to push himself up again, trying to look like he wasn't dying, but his fingers slipped and he grunted as his body came into contact with the hard floor. The talking stopped and, in his burning delirium, he realised that he had just drawn attention to himself.