Harry Potter and The Boy Who Had No Choice

The Scarf

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Harry woke up early the next morning, so early that it was still dark outside when he got dressed. Putting on his uniform wasn't easy to do in the dim light, but he refused to cast lumos at risk of waking the other boys up. If they awoke, they'd probably be wondering where Harry was heading off to so early in the morning; that was a secret he couldn't tell.

Just to be safe, he rummaged through his trunk and pulled out his invisibility cloak. The other students weren't yet up, but that didn't guarantee that Filch wasn't patrolling the halls. He slipped the cloak over his head and snuck out the door.

Once he exited Gryffindor tower, he found that the hallways were completely empty, like he suspected. His soft footsteps still echoed off the walls, emphasizing his loneliness. He passed by one of the courtyards, and watched the sky as he walked. This was his favorite time of the day. Some people loved sunrises: the first glow of the sun's rays beaming over the horizon. But Harry loved the early morning hours before the sky lit up. He admired the soft purplish haze that bathed the world in a peaceful tranquility.

He shivered as a cold December wind blew past him, nipping his face with chill. Pulling his scarf tighter around his neck, he pushed forward until he came to rest at a large gargoyle statue near the Quidditch Pitch.

It only took a few minutes before a familiar haughty drawl sounded from behind him.

"Fancy seeing you here, Harry." He whirled around to find Draco striding towards him. If it weren't for the unmistakable smirk branding his face, Harry wasn't sure he would have recognized him: Draco Malfoy was wearing a sweater.

Not only was he wearing a sweater, but he also adorned a Slytherin scarf, green knitted gloves with a matching hat, and grey earmuffs. Tufts of silver-blonde hair peaked out from under his beanie, drawing attention to his face, which was flushed pink from the cold. Harry couldn't have smiled any wider.

"Doesn't sound quite as threatening when you're using my first name," Harry mused, grinning like an idiot.

"Does that mean you'd like me to go back to calling you Potter?" Draco lifted an eyebrow teasingly.

"Definately not," Harry chuckled while Draco leaned against the statue. "What's with the get up?" he asked, letting his eyes flit up and down the blonde's body.

"What do you mean?" Malfoy said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I mean," Harry paused. "You're wearing a sweater. And gloves. And a beanie. And earmuffs."

"Sod off, I get cold easily," he huffed, reaching up to adjust his hat.

"Well then," Harry took a few steps closer. "Let's get somewhere warmer, shall we?"

The Slytherin flushed even pinker when Harry winked and led him down the hall. They walked in silence for a bit, appreciating the unusual quiet of the castle.

"I like it," Harry blurted out. Draco shot him a puzzled glance, and Harry wondered if he'd ever stop feeling like an idiot when he was around this cunning blonde. "The sweater and earmuffs and all that."

"You do?" Draco asked cautiously.

"Yeah," Harry swallowed. "You're always so... severe. With your black and your suits and all. I like seeing you all... I dunno, all soft. All vulnerable."

"Vulnerable?" Draco's face twisted in disgust. Harry silently cursed himself; of course he wouldn't want to be seen as vulnerable. His ego was only rivaled by that of... Harry couldn't think of anyone else.