When The Smoke Clears

Hot & Cold

On Monday, the students of Hogwarts confined themselves to the indoor campus as the teachers reinforced the castle's defenses, casting spells to more effectively hide and protect them. Harry paced back and forth in the Slytherin common room, worrying equally about his friends outside and inside the castle. The black-stone necklace hung cold around his neck; previously, he wore it off-and-on, but now he elected to keep it firmly around his neck in case of another attack.

"The Hogsmeade trip on Friday has been postponed," Hermione sighed after a glance at the Slytherin house bulletin. "I guess we'll have to wait a bit before we can go out to The Three Broomsticks, Ron."

"Go out? What, on a date?" Ron looked up from the chess game he was playing against himself.

"Yes," Hermione replied, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "Um, if that's all right with you, Harry? Just the two of us?"

"That's fine," Harry said, but he was barely listening. He stopped his pacing to gaze through an enchanted window that showed the grounds above the lake. Outside, freezing sleet poured down in unforgiving sheets. Doubtless, the strange, masked wizards wouldn't attack in this weather. They must have retreated. Or maybe they were close, biding their time...Harry strained to peer through the heavy precipitation for a bit of red, but he couldn't see a thing.

"Harry," Hermione said in a tone that made it clear it wasn't the first time she had called his name. "Ron asked, what's your favorite color?"

"Oh. Er..." Harry pondered, caught off guard by such a standard, almost menial question. He supposed his favorite color used to be red, but recent events had lowered its status. "Ice blue, I suppose."

"Ooh, pretty. I like lilac. Ron?"

"Chudley Cannon orange, of course."

The creaking of the dungeons' door echoed throughout the stone-lined common room. The trio's conversation paused as they listened to someone's footsteps, accompanied by the sound of water dripping on the floor.

"Someone from outside," Hermione said, her voice hushed.

"Slughorn, maybe?" Ron suggested hopefully, but his expression soured when Draco Malfoy came into view.

The Slytherin was drenched from head to toe, rain streaming from his black clothes onto the floor. He froze when he saw the three Gryffindors, who were the only ones in the room. "Shouldn't you all be in class?" He said nervously.

"Classes got canceled. Where have you been?" Ron asked suspiciously.

In response, Draco left the room quickly, heading for the dorms while shedding his wet overcoat.

Go on, Hermione mouthed to Harry. He shook his head at her, but she gave him a threatening look, and he relented.

Inside the dormitory, Draco had magically lit the central heating system, stretching his cold hands towards the bright green flames. At the sight of Harry entering, he scowled and placed his hands on his knees.

"What happened?" Harry questioned, sitting next to Draco on his bed. The blond scooted a few inches away from him, keeping his distance.

"Nothing that's any of your business," Draco replied, letting his wet hair partially cover his face. Harry's gaze drifted to his bottom lip, which was busted open.

"Malfoy, you're hurt."

"A bit. So?" Draco faced him in what was supposed to be a haughty manner, but the wincing ruined the effect. Up close, Harry could see that he had a black eye, a scratch along his cheek, and what appeared to be a broken nose.