The common room door swung closed behind Harry as he stumbled towards the promise of comfy seats and rest. It had been a long day, and he was more than ready to just collapse on a sofa and unwind by the fire.
Unfortunately, there were a few Ravenclaws were huddled together comparing notes by the fire, where he really wanted to be, but there was a very comfortable sofa not too far behind that was free. Making a beeline for it before someone else grabbed it, a flash of blond hair caught his eye. Just to his side, Draco sat slightly hunched on a sofa, visibly shaking. He wasn’t too far from the fire, but the Slytherin had seemed colder than usual since the beginning of term. And of course, the idiot was too stubborn to cast warming charms. With one last, long look at the free sofa in the corner, Harry sighed and worked his way over to the git.
“You know, just because you’re the ice king, you don’t actually have to freeze,” he said, dropping his bag on the floor as he flopped unceremoniously onto the sofa. Draco scowled.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Potter,” he said haughtily.
“I can see you shivering, you twit,” Harry rolled his eyes. They might have built up a decent relationship over the summer after Harry testified on Draco’s behalf, but the man could still be maddening.
“Obviously you’re mistaken. I suggest you get some new glasses,” Draco said, obviously trying to suppress a particularly violent shiver and failing spectacularly.
“Of course,” Harry rolled his eyes, “You aren’t visibly shaking at all, everything’s just blurry.”
“Glad we cleared that up,” Draco nodded, clenching his jaw as his teeth threatened to chatter. As the blond crossed his arms tightly across his chest, clearly unwilling to admit defeat, Harry shook his head in despair.
“Oh for goodness sake, you’re so stubborn!” Before Draco could even open his mouth to send what was bound to be an extremely scathing retort his way, Harry summoned the blanket he knew Draco adored but was too reserved to admit. Ignoring the splutters and half protests tumbled from Draco’s lips, Harry threw it around the arse, before yanking the idiot closer, wrapping his arm around the other man.
“What are you doing?!” Draco squawked in his ear, “Unhand me, Potter! This is entirely undignified and ridiculous and-and, and just wrong!” Yet for all his protests, Draco didn’t resist him at all.
“So you aren’t warmer and more comfortable?” Harry smirked.
“I refuse to dignify that with an answer, Potter.” Harry sniggered, squeezing Draco against him ever so slightly. The Slytherin tutted, but rested his socked feet on Harry’s legs. Even through the multiple layers of clothing they felt like ice against Harry’s skin.
“Well, just sit and pout and scorn and tell me about your day,” Harry pulled the blanket tighter around Draco slightly, casting a wordless warming charm on Draco’s feet as he did so.
With a final huff and a glare for good measure, Draco launched into a full blown complaint about how the book he’d needed in the library for Ancient Runes had already been taken out by Hermione, embellishing dramatically in true Draco style.
At regular intervals the prat would interrupt himself with complaints about Harry’s hair in his face, or whines about his back not being comfy, but never once did Draco make any effort to move away. In fact, each time they adjusted slightly, Draco somehow managed to nestle even closer, covering it with a dramatic sigh as if being hugged and warmed was some great inconvenience. Still, Harry merely waited for the git to settle, enjoying listening to his rants as they curled up on the sofa.
Draco might be a stubborn idiot, but he was rapidly becoming his stubborn idiot.