Pairings: Harry+Ron (fluff), Draco+Harry (cuteness)
Warnings: Slash, cuddly Harry and endearing Draco, I think.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own these characters. They all belong to the wonderful author and British gal J.K. Rowling.
He woke up for the second time that night, shivering. Harry wasn't sure why his bed was so cold; it should have warmed up by now. When he first crawled under the covers, he had expected them to be a bit cool. His body heat should have warmed them up considerably, but for some odd reason, Harry kept waking up, and his bed remained freezing.
It was as if someone had put a curse on his blankets so that they'd never get warm. This annoyed Harry to no end. He loved cuddling under warm covers, and that was one of the reasons why it was so hard for him to get up some mornings. The bed would be so comfy and he'd be so warm that he didn't wish to get up. The thought of not having breakfast always got him up, though, unless it was a Saturday or Sunday morning, then he'd lay in as long as he wanted.
He couldn't stand it any longer, and he got up. It was as if some unknown force was controlling him. He put his glasses on, his eyes were still half-closed, and he slowly walked over to where his best friend was sleeping.
Behind the crimson curtains was one Ron Weasley, his most trusted and close friend. He can just barely make out Ron's bright red hair from the moonlight that was pouring through the nearby window. Ron was facing away from him, head almost buried completely from the orange and red covers and the giant pillow. He sure looked comfortable, Harry's mind thought.
He could have been dreaming, but he wasn't sure. It was as if he were sleep walking, which was probably what he was doing, but right now, Harry's conscious didn't wonder much on it. Harry carefully lifted the corner of the blankets away and stuck his leg in. Ron must have really been out of it, because he didn't stir. Harry slowly slipped all the way in, took off his glasses, setting them on the nightstand, and then he laid his head down on the spare pillow next to Ron. It was a good thing that Ron didn't hog the bed; otherwise, Harry wouldn't have any room at all.
The moment that his head hit the pillow, Harry was deeply asleep. The whole trip to Ron's bed seemed like nothing more than a strange, distant dream. The bed was incredibly warm.
Unfortunately, Ron had woken suddenly, sensing something amiss. He turned on his back, half-asleep, and moved a hand behind him. He gasped silently when his hand found another body in the bed. His eyes snapped open the rest of the way, and he stared at his intruder. He saw a head of messy black hair, and those unmistakable square shoulders slowly heaving as he breathed.
"Harry?" Ron whispered. There was no answer. He lightly placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and shook him softly, "Harry?"
Harry mumbled something under his breath.
"Harry, what are you doing in my bed?"
There was a groan, and then Harry mumbled, "What do you mean? I'm in MY bed."
"No you're not, Harry." Ron said, "You're in MY bed."
Harry did wake up then, and he turned over onto his back. "Wha-? Ron?"
"How'd I get here?"
"I don't know. I was hoping you'd tell me."
Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes and then moved a hand to the nightstand. Just as Harry hoped, his glasses were there. He slid them on, and then looked up at Ron, who was practically towering over him, even though he was only leaning on his elbow. Ron sure grew these past few years.
"I don't remember." Harry said. He was glad that it was rather dark, because he was sure that his cheeks were red. "All I remember is waking up in the middle of the night a few times because my bed was still cold. I don't know why it is. I mean- it should be warm by then, right?"
"That is weird." Ron said. "Have you thought about using a warmth charm?"
Harry shook his head. "No, not really. I couldn't think properly when I was shivering. I just tried to go back to sleep. And then, the next thing I knew, you were waking me up."
"You were probably sleep-walking."
That was the same thought that crossed Harry's mind as well. "You're probably right. Well, I'll take care of my bed in the morning." Harry took his glasses off and set them back on the nightstand, "Good night, Ron." He put his head back onto the pillow.
"Shouldn't you… be back in your bed?"
"I can't sleep in a cold bed." Harry sighed, "Uh… is it all right if I stay here tonight? I'll figure something out about my bed in the morning. I'm too tired to deal with it right now."
"Uh… I guess so. But what if the others wake up and see us like this? What do we tell them?"
Harry turned over so that he was facing Ron and he smiled a little. "We'll tell them that it's none of their business."
"But won't they get suspicious if we said that?" Ron asked.
Harry shrugged his one shoulder. "I don't care what they think."
Ron's eyes widened comically. Harry held in a snicker.
"Look, Ron, I know that you're not gay, all right? You don't have to worry about me jumping your bones in the middle of the night because I won't. Okay?"
"Is there… something you're not telling me?"
Harry blushed. "Maybe."
"Are you… you know… hom… uh… g-gay?" Ron sounded almost embarrassed for even saying the word.
"Actually, I'm not sure." Harry answered truthfully. "All I know is, I wouldn't be disgusted if I kissed a guy, so… I don't know. I might just be very open-minded."
"Oh." Ron finally said.
There was silence between them for a bit. Harry didn't know if it was considered awkward silence, or just silent reflection.
"Don't worry, Ron. I just want to sleep. So, then… is it ok? Can I sleep here tonight?"
Ron pursed his lips tightly together, along with his brow, in thought.
"All right." Ron said, finally.
"Thank you, Ron." Harry smiled. He turned back around and closed his eyes. The bed was very warm, and very comfortable all night.
Harry got a rude awakening.
"Harry. Harry, wake up!" Ron was jiggling his arm.
"All right, I'm up!" Harry groaned. He blinked a few times as his vision became more clear. He was staring right into Ron's chest. Harry was relieved that they had their pajamas on.
Harry blushed brightly when he finally realized that he had been snuggled up close to Ron's body, his arm slung over Ron, and his face practically pressed hard against Ron's collarbone. He looked up at Ron, and Ron motioned his head up. Harry turned and looked up. The rest of the boys that shared their dormitory were standing there, their mouths agape.
His blush got worse as he sat up from his position, and away from Ron. He smiled shyly at his friends and then gave them a meek little: "good morning."
"Morning, Harry." Seamus grinned.
"So what did you two do last night?" Dean said, sharing the same wicked grin as Seamus.
"Nothing!" Ron said.
"It's none of your business." Harry said automatically.
The others gasped.
"Harry!" Ron moaned, "Don't say that! They'll think that something actually DID happen, then!"
"Does this mean that something did happen?" Said Seamus.
"No!" Ron bellowed.
Harry laughed. "Nothing happened, guys. Honest."
"Nothing?" Said Dean, "Not even a little peck on the cheek?"
Harry and Ron shook theirs heads, Ron was shaking his head harder than Harry.
"Nope. I didn't even know I was cuddling up to him. I was asleep."
"Sure," Seamus winked, "I believe you, Harry."
"Seamus!" Ron growled.
"Well…" Dean grinned, clearly amused, "I suppose we better go down for breakfast and leave these two lovebirds alone."
"Good thinking, my friend." Seamus smiled.
"Hey!" Ron pouted.
Harry patted him, "They're just teasing. Let's get some breakfast as well."
"Right." Ron sighed. He got up and started to get dressed.
"We'll make sure to save some seats so that you two sit by one another," Seamus said, puckering his lips.
"Shut up, Finnigan!" Ron huffed.
Seamus and Dean roared with laughter. Neville had already left a while ago, clearly not comfortable with seeing two of his good friends sleeping next to each other.
"Don't get too overexcited about it, Ron. Seamus is just poking fun at you." Ron grumbled something that Harry didn't catch. "You're not *that* homophobic, are you?"
"Huh? Er… no. I just don't like being teased about it since I'm not."
"I understand." Harry said as he slipped his trousers on. "I'll talk to Seamus and Dean and tell them to knock it off for you."
It was raining, but Harry didn't care. He barely recalled the spell that Hermione used on his glasses that one year when it rained. He could just make out the goal posts on the opposite side of the Quidditch field. The wind was starting to pick up, and he was getting soaked to the bone. It was beginning to get cold, so Harry landed gracefully back on the ground and made his way to the locker room.
Harry flipped his wet bangs back from his face and just as he walked into the door that lead to the locker room, he saw someone standing there, leaning up against the inside of the archway, arms crossed over some kind of cloth. He recognized that blond hair and amused smirk anywhere.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry sneered.
Malfoy scoffed and unfolded his arms. He opened the cloth he had folded up in his arms and it rolled out down to the floor. Harry was confused, and before he could say anything, Draco draped the big towel over his head.
"What do you think you're doing, flying out in that weather? Either you're really that brave, or you're very stupid. You could get struck by lightning, or something! You could catch pneumonia!" Harry yanked the soft towel from his head, mussing his hair more, and he wrapped it around his shoulders. He shivered.
"Well?" Draco said. He crossed his arms and tapped an impatient toe, "You know, your glasses make a good lightning rod. If you had gotten struck, you'd have yourself another scar on your head. Is that what you want, Potter? Isn't one of these lightning shaped scars enough?"
"W-why do you a-actually care?" Harry said through chattering teeth.
"Oh, I don't know, Potter. Maybe because it's not your time to die yet?"
"Whatever." Harry was about to take the towel off of him, but Malfoy grabbed it and started to fluff up his hair. "Malfoy!"
"Is this the kind of thanks I get for actually caring? I was standing there by the doorway- in the drafty, drafty doorway- watching you fly, waiting for you with a nice warm, cozy towel and all you can say is 'whatever'?" Draco wiped at some of the drops that have slid down Harry's face.
Harry felt his cheeks warm up unexpectedly.
"*I* could have caught pneumonia!" Draco said suddenly. Harry blew a piece of hair out of his eyes. "What? No 'thank you'? No 'Thanks for caring, Malfoy'? Nothing?"
Harry looked away and smiling a little. "Er… yeah, thanks, Malfoy."
"You're welcome, Potter." Before he could stop himself, Draco moved forward and placed a warm kiss on Harry's cheek.
"Next time you go flying, invite me." Draco smirked and then walked away.
~~That's it, for now~~