Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all subsequent characters belong to an AMAZING British woman (J.K. Rowling) and various Publishers who handle the books/movies.
AN: This story takes place in the fan fiction favorite "seventh/eighth year" where everyone's been switched up so that at least one person from each house resides in each dorm room.
A rush of cold air brushed past Harry, sending shivers down his spine. Harry heard himself give a murmur of protest. It was too cold. Too cold. The room was too cold. Everything was too cold.
He sensed it more than felt it. A warm presence. Harry latched on as if his life depended on it. So warm. So warm…so…warm….
"Harry! Ron! Get Up!" Hermione's shrill voice sounded in the once peaceful boy's dormitory.
"Ron, you've said that already. Now, get up!"
Harry could hear Hermione marching over. Sounds of annoyed protest came from the other occupants of the dorm. Harry could hear a choking sound coming from somewhere across the room. It didn't seem like Terry was terribly used to having girls storm into his dorm room. He would have to get used it as Hermione and Ginny never seemed to pay these decorum much heed.
A forceful pulling back of the hangings from the bed next to his seemed to wake Ron up.
"Bloody hell, Hermione!"
"Get up. You two should have been up twenty minutes ago! Or did you—"
Hermione had just pulled back Harry's own hangings. A stream of too-bright light stung against his eyelids. Harry let out a groan…a groan that seemed to echo another's.
For the first time that morning, Harry became aware of the second body lying oh-so-very close to his. Much, much too close. And warm.
Harry opened his eyes and saw the shocked, horrified look on Hermione's face, a look mirrored on Ron's face with a bit of revulsion painted in. Looking down, Harry saw pale blond hair.
"THE HELL, MALFOY! WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING IN MY BED?"
He shouldn't have yelled. At least then, Macmillan might not have found out. That might have saved Harry some face.
Harry bolted up right and nearly fell off his bed in his efforts to scramble away.
A snigger came from the general direction of Macmillan's bed and Harry felt his stomach drop.
"Bloody hell, Potter, can't you at least wake up like a normal person?" The sneer in the comment was lost in the still sleepy voice of the blond. He sat up, quite comfortable in Harry's bed. It didn't seem to faze him at all having five people, none of whom liked him very much, surround him. That arrogant smirk of his quickly found its way back to his expression.
"Wh-What are you doing in my bed?" Harry repeated lamely.
"It was cold, so I just slipped into the bed closest to mines." Malfoy said with a shrug. As if what he did didn't warrant such reactions from the group. "It could have been his had I slid off on my right side instead of my left." Malfoy jabbed a finger in Ernie's direction.
Ernie's face paled at Malfoy's nonchalant confession. It took the smirk right off his face as he blanched at the thought of waking up to a Malfoy in his bed. Good. Now he knew how Harry felt.
"Besides, you didn't seem to protest last night." Last night? Harry couldn't remember ever letting Malfoy into his bed.
"I was asleep!" Harry shouted. But Malfoy just shrugged it off, again.
Harry stared at him, speechless.
When it seemed like no one else was about to do or say anything else, Malfoy laid back down, pulling the covers up, promptly falling back asleep. It didn't seem like he cared at all that it was Harry's bed.
"C-come on. We'll be late." Hermione finally said.
Neither Terry nor Ernie wanted to stay in the dorm room alone with Malfoy, apparently, as they both followed Ron and Harry as they left. They didn't want to find Malfoy slipping into any of their beds as well.
As Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the Gryffindor common room, they could hear Ernie trying to get Terry to trade beds with him and Terry vehemently refusing.
"God, I hope Malfoy slither's into Macmillan's bed next. Did you hear him snicker earlier?"
"Ron…" Hermione shot her boyfriend an exasperated look.
"What? I'm just saying. But really, I wonder who else's bed he's slept in. God, that sounded wrong."
Harry tried to ignore the discomfort forming at the pit of his stomach. He didn't know why, but the thought of Malfoy sleeping in someone else's bed didn't seem to sit too well with Harry. He didn't even want to think of the reason why it didn't sit well with him.
"Hurry up. We're already late. Kingsley's been waiting ten minutes already!"
Harry felt his covers being peeled back and a warm body slipped in next to him. His brain foggy with sleep, Harry made no protest.
Harry woke to a weight on his arm and across his chest. It took him a while to realize just what that meant. Opening his eyes, Harry got an eyeful of white-blond hair that confirmed his suspicions.
"Malfoy! Go back to your own bed!" Harry hissed angrily as he tried to shove the dead weight off of him.
"Mmm…" Draco—Malfoy—just snuggled in closer. If anything, his hold on Harry tightened. Harry gave up trying. He was too tired to make much of an effort. Closing his eyes, Harry unconsciously curled into Draco's embrace. Ah, that felt nice….
A smug smile flittered across the lips of the Slytherin, one that Harry Potter completely missed.
Ron descended the stairs and found Hermione waiting for him with a book in hand. Trust Hermione to always have a book.
"Is he still sleeping?" She asked when she saw him. For once, she made a reproachful face that wasn't aimed at him. Too bad he was the only one there to see it.
"Yeah. I think he's getting a bit too comfortable with it."
"With having the Ferret in his bed. Hell, did I just say that?" Ron looked a little sick at his own words.
A funny look crossed Hermione's face. He didn't want to even think about what that look could mean.
"L-Let's go down first, then, shall we?"
"Must you always crawl into my bed?"
"Would you rather I slip into Macmillan's bed?"
Harry made no answer and no other protest. Draco slipped happily into Harry's bed. Before long, both boys were fast asleep in each other's arms.
Harry gave up trying to ward off Draco. As Draco—Malfoy—slithered into his bed yet again (that was every night for a week, now, since he first climbed in), Harry shifted over to give him more room. It was an unconscious action but one that seemed more like an invitation than anything else in Harry's eyes. It seemed like he was inviting Draco—Malfoy—to come into his bed.
It's a lot warmer, he told himself. But really, it was all an excuse.
"Why don't you go and slip into Ernie's bed once in a while?" Harry lashed out, unbidden.
Draco paused. He gave Harry this look that told him he was stupid.
"Do you want me to slip into someone else's bed?"
"…No…." Harry said grudgingly.
A small smile slipped onto Draco's expression. Was that the first time he's ever seen it? Harry found he quite liked Draco's smile. It was much nicer than the smirk he wore constantly.
"As if I would slip into anyone else's bed."
Ron braced himself as he pulled back Harry's curtains. He knew Malfoy had been crawling into his best mate's bed every night now, and he thought it was high time it stopped. Plus, he needed to talk to Harry about this dream he had. He couldn't really understand it and there was no way in hell he was about to confide Hermione in on it, especially since it involved her.
To his utter surprise, Harry's bed was empty. Did Harry get up? But it's the middle of the night. Where could Harry have gone?
A sinking feeling settled over him. Hands shaking, Ron walked over to the other bed next to Harry's. He pulled back just a corner to peek in.
Good God! Now Harry's slipping into Malfoy's bed!