I do not own anything except the storyplot since it's my idea! :D
This is a 'slash' meaning the two get together, so, Yay! I still think it would have been amazing had they in the books... But for that reason FF is born!
Please read and review. Thanks!
Scarves (part one)
Frozen on his log perch beside a dark stone cave, slight coverings of moss littered the outside area with stubborn piles of snow resting in little nooks all around the stone and between grass. He was just outside the small town of Hogsmeade and even as the sky began to darken and the cool winds of mid-November swept through him he took no notice, his mind far elsewhere.
He had met his friends; the ever smart Hermione Granger and (her near opposite) Ron Weasly, at the Three Broomsticks for a round of butter-beers to 'discuss life' as Hermione had put it, like winter plans, crushes and, of course, the other students. Harry never really liked the drinks but every weekend that they came to the tiny hamlet he would have one; they were thick, sweet and smelled funny to him but Ron loved them and even Hermione liked them.
Since Harry hadn't planned on being outside most of the day and having a fight with his best friends, (the first he had made in his new world five years before and two of the few 'true' ones), he had only a light shirt on that was a few sizes too big (his chubby cousin's) and jeans, along with his uniform shoes. Hermione had had the spectacular idea to tell Ron when he was happily drinking and where no one would overhear them at the popular local hangout, that Harry thought he might be gay.
That that was the reason behind why he hadn't gone out with Ginny when she'd asked him the week before, and the week before that... Not, as she had put it, because he liked someone else (which was kinda, sorta, 'half' true.). Neither knew Ron was such a homophobe. Or that he would have reacted by stuttering about all the times they had been close with each other and how Harry was in love with him. Really.
Harry shook his head and thought of Sirius. His Dogfather had been the first, no second, to guess Hermione had thought it aloud to Harry when they were talking over the summer at the Headquarters, while Sirius was walking by. The scruffy man had came in exclaiming he knew it and wrapping his still-skeletal arms around Hermione and Harry before the flushed Chosen-Boy could even start to stutter his own thoughts. Harry had a few fleeting thought about guys and he confessed that he thought he might be gay before, he was reminded of the only girl he had ever had a crush on which had been Cho Chang, and that had just been a very confusing one albeit brief.
The cool air around him hadn't yet fazed Harry is his dazed state, he hadn't noticed at all that he was losing feeling in his nose, fingertips and toes. His skin losing its golden hue slowly, all he could focus on were feeling reminiscent of the dementors of the summer in the alley. He had his sweater from Molly Weasly on his lap which, unfortunately enough, had a few marks and tears from Ron earlier in the year when they were having a 'snow-war' with the girls, the thoughts continued on wondering if Ron would ever even talk to him again let alone rough-house like that... Plus it was slightly damp from spewed butter-beer.
He was thinking of Sirius on the run, Hermione trying to convince Ron that Harry would not suddenly want to shag him everywhere and that no he didn't like Ron that way either (ew, too much red). He was thinking of the pains he had been having in his scar and the doubts he was having on telling Ron what he thought. He wasn't even sure!
He put his hands in his lap, blankly wondering if Hermione had calmed Ron down, or if they thought he had went back to school yet, or if they were even thinking of him.
Draco was pleasantly warm in the chilly air, although angry at his 'friends' for insinuating, again, that he like-liked the boy he had been teasing, fighting, attacking and pretty much obsessing about for ever since the boy rejected his hand. Five years! It had made him mad enough he had actually walked alone and found himself where? Paces away from his 'crush'. The raven headed Boy Wonder was lost in space looking like his best friend had told him that he hated him and then kicked his dog and, although Draco didn't know how nearly right he was, he found himself making his way to sit beside the boy; he vaguely considered himself insane, this was the boy who had chosen Weasly and a mudblood over him! A Malfoy! While yes… he had insulted the red head, giant and the muggle born, he hadn't thought it was the equivalent of the insult of not being chosen over the two!
Sitting himself down on the icy log beside Harry, he leaned forward and across the unresponsive boy to see his face, waving his hand before the blank eyes slowly, and repeating "Potter?" slowly he was noticing three immediate things about the raven-haired boy: he was beyond pale (nearly stony, really), the tips of his ears and nose were dark red (likely frostbitten by now), and he had almost frozen tears in his lashes and clinging to his eyes.
Compelled by whatever had come over him to make him sit next to Harry, Draco stood slightly, kneeling (and he would deny it to the grave, no Malfoy would kneel before a Potter!) before Harry and untying and removing his dark emerald and silver scarf with the Slytherin insignia and placed it around the boy. Moving a few paces back, just-in-case Potter thought he was choking him or something, Draco nodded and was slightly surprised when the scarf brought the dazed boy back to reality unlike all the other things like words and movements.
Harry stared up at the Slytherin, there was no sneer on his light face, his pale grey-blue eyes, the white-blonde hair screaming soft and the aristocratic features; he was the total opposite of Harry's rough childhood, he was the epitome of pampered, well maybe that was too far, but the surprise had Harry's heart speeding up to a more normal pace than the dormancy of the past few... hours? The low sun told him had been at least four had since leaving the Three Broomsticks. He saw question in Malfoy's eyes, and asked what he was doing here.
"Where's your coat? Scarf? Gloves?" Draco half scoffed ignoring the question, both confused and awed that Harry had neither, after all, wasn't he supposed to be Gryffindor's Golden Boy? Designated to save the wizarding world and all that jazz? Defeated the Dark Lord as an infant? And yet apparently he couldn't even remember his house scarf or gloves when it was the coldest trip yet?
Pale as he was, Harry looked near the same shade as Draco, albeit an unhealthy copy. "I d-don't have a sc-arf, I-I gave it to-" he broke off, Sirius had his scarf and mitts while he was on the run and Harry had been too preoccupied to ask for another set. That and he didn't want anyone to ask where his had gone. He'd just been saying, when asked of course, that he forgot them. His reply had been slightly muffled by the scarf, having been tied loosely around his neck and lower face to hang on his back, and as he made no move to change the position he slightly hoped he wouldn't have to. He was realizing that he had been cold and his voice was quite clear on the cold.
Draco nodded and seemed to easily accept this answer, both knowing what would have been coming from the events of the previous year. And, as he turned away, slightly inclining his head, "Curfew in less than twenty, Potter," Draco called as he began to walk away from the secluded cave that used to belong to a certain man.
He didn't speed up as Harry moved to follow after, the soft scarf warm around his neck, he smiled (though hidden by the scarf) and whispered a thank you, it wasn't every day, after all, that your enemy thought about your well being before your best friends did.
Harry made it back to Hogwarts on time, barely, having stopped to warm up for a bit before walking back with the stragglers still in the Three Broomsticks. Harry had entered Hogwarts just as Supper was starting and just made his way into the Great Hall, before taking a seat at the closest end next to an equally oblivious Neville Longbottom. Thinking of what to do after dinner, he pulled the scarf down and away from his mouth absently loosening it, 'the Gryffindor Tower held no appeal' he mentally checked off as he made his plate up with the usual foods, maybe he would go to the library until it closed closer to the curfew, it would give him at least a couple hours of peace, though it still held only slightly more appeal than the Tower. At least the Tower would be… interesting, for lack of a better word, hostile, maybe, interesting, definitely.
Pulling the scarf looser absently, again, and letting it fall against his neck, he wasn't paying attention as he ate pieces of the supper, not too hungry and still deep in thought, or he might have noticed the few professors and students eating and entering give him strange looks or odd comments, but, he was used to feeling eyes on the back of his head, and hearing whispers about him, after all he hadn't had an iota of privacy since his eleventh birthday, other than when he was at 'home' with the Dursley's. After eating as much as he could stomach, which really wasn't much, he left the hall. Completely oblivious to the still filling room and the quiet that followed his departure.
The Room of Requirements was where he found himself, he had walked past three times unsure of what he wanted and only really thinking of privacy and when the door that showed itself opened to a room near identical to room he had at the Dursley's his only thought was of mixed feelings. It was kind of like the Cupboard, actually, a few obvious differences, of course for one thing, it was at least three times the size, another was that it had a window looking out to the forest, and (the main one), was that it had a large dark green curtain hanging on one wall, and red one covering the opposite wall with a dark navy bed much like that in the dorms. Making his way, slowly, to the bed Harry decided to have a nap, hopefully no one would be awake when he went to the dormitories just before curfew. Yawning, he reached and found a replica of an alarm clock, and, flicking the dial to five minutes before curfew, when he had to be back in the Tower, he let himself sleep with his fingers tangling in the other houses' scarf.
Harry had made it extrordinairily uneventfully (except for a certain, recurring dream) to morning, coming into the dorm right on time to see a, surprisingly, empty common room before marching up to his bed. He had slept in his clothes and barely made it back up to his Dorm's bed since waking from the hidden room, he had had another strange dream of that odd door and had woken more tired than before.
After a quick shower while most of his dorm mates were still asleep and loudly snoring t proclaim the fact, Harry dressed in his uniformed robes for the day's classes when the other house's coloured scarf laying by the head of his bed caught partway under the pillow and rumpled blankets caught his eye, and (in an act of impulsive, mild defiance that surprised himself) Harry grabbed it and threw it around his neck, the 'offending' scarf lying around his neck, dangling over each shoulder onto his chest. It was longer than his had been, then again, he had had the same one since First year... Grabbing his books and stuffing them back into his bag he quietly left for breakfast.
Being awake early had a few perks, one being the dead quiet halls and the other, more important one, was that nobody was around to ask any questions either. His breakfast was finished long before most of the school had come in, this was excluding nearly all of the Ravenclaw's who came in soon after Harry had and had opened their book to 'read ahead for the day' much like a certain Gryffindor had done the night before and would probably do again when she arrived depending on how 'stupid' Ron was being that morning. This was mainly due to the fact that he had arrived much earlier than normal since he had slept, surprising well and had woken refreshed and much earlier than normal. As the rest of the room quietly filled until the quiet was lost, and as two thrids of the Golden Trio entered, Harry made way past, resulting in his two friends (who had gasped, probably at seeing him awake without their help for the first time in a while due to those dreams and generally poor rest), grabbing him in surprise. "WHAT on earth is that, Harry! Around your neck!" Hermione shrieked quiet enough that only two of the three nearly full table turned to see what had happened.
Harry fingered the scarf, looking at the two, Ron decidedly not looking anywhere near Harry, while pointedly still blocking his path and helping the only girl of the tiro, Hermione was holding the other end of the scarf, the side with the wrong house insignia. Harry whispered with a slightly hoarse sound (probably from sitting in the cold yesterday), "I lost my Gryffindor one," into her ear as he leaned closer before his cheeks flushed and he took off at a half run away from his two friends, brushing past a certain boy who was looking at him with a mixture of surprise and something else.
He could feel prickles of panic going through his head and body: What if Malfoy wanted it back? What if he was supposed to have given it back yesterday? What if Ron never spoke to him again? What if anyone found out he liked the scarf? He shuddered and went to wait in the Transfigurations classroom, his mind going a mile a minute, as fast as Krum after the snitch going with the wind. He knew (now) that it was a bad idea. His Gryffindor bravery the only thing keeping him from stuffing it into his bag (plus he didn't think Draco, MALFOY, not, never, Draco, would appreciate it, and honestly he was still kind of cold…) that and the fact that student were beginning to trickle in, his musing taking up the last few blessedly alone time he had before class.
Of the rapidly piling in students few covered gasps and stared at him again(most had seen over the past two gatherings in the Great hall for meals or heard about it, anyway), this time, though, Harry was definitely noticing, every fibre focused on them, it really wasn't the usual things about him, (Voldemort, gossip or his scar, to name a few), it was about the scarf. Malfoy's scarf. A non-Gryffindor scarf on the 'Golden-Boy'. He didn't think anyone would have noticed, but Ron and Hermione had, and thinking about it, he had never seen anyone from a house wear another houses colours. Ever. Maybe it was a Taboo…? (Harry was freaking out enough without that thought, dammit!)
He shook his head and pulled a roll parchment and one of his quills out, he wanted to at least look uninterested in all the commotion. Hermione sat beside him, (with Ron sitting back a few rows with Seamus and Dean while looking at Hermione like a traitor), picking the end up and pulling slightly, he coughed as it tightened, looking around to see no one looking, not even Ron, and when she whispered Omos Lumos-est and small silver writing appeared he checked again, no one was watching- unless that small flip of blonde... Malfoy had been watching. He looked at the appearing letters, catching as they burst forth before immediately fading back to nothing but blank fabric, 'Draco Malfoy' and he fought another blush as Hermione slowly looked up at him, smiling knowingly (and in a way… accepting?) and began setting her own parchment and such, content and asking what he thought they would be doing, a new spell or more work on the one from the previous week. He sighed and focused on a mantra, pleading that no one else would know a spell like that, whatever that was, and that maybe no one else would ask about it that the Professor would enter and smile before teaching them an awesome and advanced spell. Riiight.
He succeeded in the 'no one else commenting', that is, until the stern Professor Minerva McGonagall came in and gasped and stood there, frozen and with a bewildered expression on her face.
Revised on Dec. 22. 2010
Hope this clears some things and fixes some of those mistakes! You can thank a few certain reviews for this chapter, I can't believe I spelt Gryffindor wrong and I blame autocorrect on Word.