Categories > Books > Harry Potter
Autumn and Winter
0 reviewsAfter the war, Remus bumps into a former student. Remus/Draco. Just a One-shot challenge for the contrelamontre group on LJ. Please Read and Review!
1Funny
Title: Autumn and Winter
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Remus, Remus/Sirius (implied)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter universe (more's the pity), and I mean no harm with this non-profit piece of 'work'.
Notes: Written for the contrelamontre 'Weather' challenge. I went a tad over the time limit writing this, but the plot bunnies got me. Sorry!
Summery: Five years after the war, Remus and Draco meet again.
Draco Malfoy, unlike the boy wonder, had been born in the depths of winter. During a blizzard if you wanted to get pedantic about it; and Draco did because he'd always held a kind of cold affection for the season, although he'd never freely admit it. The frozen early morning dew which would crunch under a newly polished boot as easily as a wizard under the cricatus curse made his pale lips curve upwards like a leaf in the cold; and the feel of a large snowflake freezing the skin of his cheek, or the frozen blow of hail against his expensive cloak was enough to make him curl his fingers in pleasure. So on a day like this, with the north wind whipping sheets of snow from the sky, was it any wonder that he didn't pay attention to this meeting?
He didn't even know what it was for. Another rebuilding project, perhaps... Another post-war venture they wanted his money for... It didn't matter, because he couldn't take his eyes off the whiteness being hurled to the ground outside the window. It was too beautiful.
"...This project could significantly improve the lives of wizards in the area, and take some of the pressure of key areas such as Diagon Alley..." The pompous man at the front was telling them. Draco wished he would shut up. The man's voice had the nasal whine of a lunatic with a broken nose, and it was very off-putting. Grey eyes turned once again to the window, impatiently waiting for the end of the meeting.
On the other side of the table from him sat a man whose once honey brown hair was more silver than gold, and hadn't taken his eyes from Draco since he'd arrived late. Remus hadn't seen Draco since the dissolution of the Order, since the man now enraptured with the snow had been barely a boy of 18 who'd kissed him under mistletoe once. Heard of him, of course. You couldn't open the Daily Prophet without seeing a mention of him somewhere. Sometimes you had to look for it though, and the werewolf always looked. But somehow Remus had always assumed he'd look just the same as he did when he was 18; the boy who'd always lacked the confidence and bearing of his family name, driven by his father, slightly awkward with the long limbs and always two or three steps behind Harry.
It had been a stupid assumption to make. The lines of Draco's face had grown harder, sharper somehow; he carried himself like a Malfoy ought to. When he'd entered the room, they had all turned as one to see the polite smile that didn't reach his grey eyes and the elegant way he'd carried himself into the room. Sometime in the last five years, Draco Malfoy had become a man. Berating himself silently, Remus realised he was all too aware of that fact.
****
The meeting hadn't finished soon enough for Draco, who had left the chamber as soon as possible, ignoring the chairman's attempts to draw him into conversation. It was snowing more gently now, and he was annoyed that the old coot had made him miss the blizzard. And annoyed that he'd made him annoyed. Malfoys did not loose their cool. There was the soft click of a boot behind him on the cleared stone steps, and Draco turned curiously around. And gave the man a very small, genuine smile.
"Hello, Draco." Remus said, returning the smile as he approached, hands buried deep in the huge pockets of his clean but shabby winter outer robe. The snow whirled in eddies about the werewolf's feet, unsure whether they wanted to rest so close to him perhaps, and the wind blew back his silver grey hair. Quite suddenly, Draco had the feeling he was back in seventh year with a crush on his old teacher and wasn't entirely sure what to do about that.
"Remus." He greeted him smoothly, before turning back to the street. Remus stepped up besides him and they walked silently for awhile along the almost deserted Diagon Alley. People did not want to be out shopping in this weather, but Draco loved every moment he could spend in the snow. "I didn't know you were in the meeting." He ventured after awhile.
"You were too busy staring out the window to notice me." Came the reply. Draco's smile widened a little.
"But you noticed me."
"You're a difficult person to ignore. You've changed quite a bit since I last saw you."
Silence again, more awkward this time as they both remembered what had happened after the mistletoe incident. Remus had pulled away, shocked and feeling guilty for betraying a man two years dead. Draco had scowled at him and left Grimauld Place - but not before Remus had caught one traitorous tear spilling over his cheek.
"I was looking at the snow." Draco told him, in an effort to steer the conversation another way, wrenching the words from his proud mouth like a dentist. And Remus let him do it, because he knew why he'd brought it up, because he'd sounded like the boy he used to be. Perhaps the chance was already gone.
"It is beautiful. And we get so little of it now."
"It's not winter unless it snows." Draco said softly, almost speaking to himself. Remus stopped and looked at him silently; his amber eyes the only real colour in winter's land of black and white. He remembered those words being said by someone else, a lifetime ago. Draco looked back at him curiously, his own black and silver robes spotted with snowflakes which put Remus in mind of stars.
"No, then it's just a very long autumn." He replied, closing the small distance between them enough so that he could lean in and steal one brief kiss from the cold lips of a man 18 years younger than himself. Draco gaped at him when the werewolf withdrew, leaving one warm hand on his shoulder and a very un-Malfoy like expression on his face. Slowly, the shock melted away into a very pleased, sly smile.
"I think I could get used to autumn, with practice." He drawled, catching the front of Remus' robes in his hands and pulled him against the Weasley Twin's joke shop. When their lips met this time, they burned with winters cold and Remus wrapped his arms and cloak around Draco to keep the heat in.
Epilogue
"I'm telling you we saw them!" Cried Fred Weasley that night in the Leaky Cauldron to a disbelieving Ron and Harry.
"Malfoy." continued George.
"And Remus." Said Fred.
"Snogging!" Said George.
"Against our shop window!" They both cried, looking distressed.
Harry and Ron looked at each other and started to laugh. Fred and George made angry noises and vaguely threatening gestures at them, but they just laughed louder. When they eventually stopped, half the bar was looking at them and the twins were sulking.
"Good one you two." Ron chuckled picking up his pint again.
"Yeah, you nearly had us believing that one. Remus and Malfoy?" Harry laughed again, nearly spilling his pint.
Fin
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Remus, Remus/Sirius (implied)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter universe (more's the pity), and I mean no harm with this non-profit piece of 'work'.
Notes: Written for the contrelamontre 'Weather' challenge. I went a tad over the time limit writing this, but the plot bunnies got me. Sorry!
Summery: Five years after the war, Remus and Draco meet again.
Draco Malfoy, unlike the boy wonder, had been born in the depths of winter. During a blizzard if you wanted to get pedantic about it; and Draco did because he'd always held a kind of cold affection for the season, although he'd never freely admit it. The frozen early morning dew which would crunch under a newly polished boot as easily as a wizard under the cricatus curse made his pale lips curve upwards like a leaf in the cold; and the feel of a large snowflake freezing the skin of his cheek, or the frozen blow of hail against his expensive cloak was enough to make him curl his fingers in pleasure. So on a day like this, with the north wind whipping sheets of snow from the sky, was it any wonder that he didn't pay attention to this meeting?
He didn't even know what it was for. Another rebuilding project, perhaps... Another post-war venture they wanted his money for... It didn't matter, because he couldn't take his eyes off the whiteness being hurled to the ground outside the window. It was too beautiful.
"...This project could significantly improve the lives of wizards in the area, and take some of the pressure of key areas such as Diagon Alley..." The pompous man at the front was telling them. Draco wished he would shut up. The man's voice had the nasal whine of a lunatic with a broken nose, and it was very off-putting. Grey eyes turned once again to the window, impatiently waiting for the end of the meeting.
On the other side of the table from him sat a man whose once honey brown hair was more silver than gold, and hadn't taken his eyes from Draco since he'd arrived late. Remus hadn't seen Draco since the dissolution of the Order, since the man now enraptured with the snow had been barely a boy of 18 who'd kissed him under mistletoe once. Heard of him, of course. You couldn't open the Daily Prophet without seeing a mention of him somewhere. Sometimes you had to look for it though, and the werewolf always looked. But somehow Remus had always assumed he'd look just the same as he did when he was 18; the boy who'd always lacked the confidence and bearing of his family name, driven by his father, slightly awkward with the long limbs and always two or three steps behind Harry.
It had been a stupid assumption to make. The lines of Draco's face had grown harder, sharper somehow; he carried himself like a Malfoy ought to. When he'd entered the room, they had all turned as one to see the polite smile that didn't reach his grey eyes and the elegant way he'd carried himself into the room. Sometime in the last five years, Draco Malfoy had become a man. Berating himself silently, Remus realised he was all too aware of that fact.
****
The meeting hadn't finished soon enough for Draco, who had left the chamber as soon as possible, ignoring the chairman's attempts to draw him into conversation. It was snowing more gently now, and he was annoyed that the old coot had made him miss the blizzard. And annoyed that he'd made him annoyed. Malfoys did not loose their cool. There was the soft click of a boot behind him on the cleared stone steps, and Draco turned curiously around. And gave the man a very small, genuine smile.
"Hello, Draco." Remus said, returning the smile as he approached, hands buried deep in the huge pockets of his clean but shabby winter outer robe. The snow whirled in eddies about the werewolf's feet, unsure whether they wanted to rest so close to him perhaps, and the wind blew back his silver grey hair. Quite suddenly, Draco had the feeling he was back in seventh year with a crush on his old teacher and wasn't entirely sure what to do about that.
"Remus." He greeted him smoothly, before turning back to the street. Remus stepped up besides him and they walked silently for awhile along the almost deserted Diagon Alley. People did not want to be out shopping in this weather, but Draco loved every moment he could spend in the snow. "I didn't know you were in the meeting." He ventured after awhile.
"You were too busy staring out the window to notice me." Came the reply. Draco's smile widened a little.
"But you noticed me."
"You're a difficult person to ignore. You've changed quite a bit since I last saw you."
Silence again, more awkward this time as they both remembered what had happened after the mistletoe incident. Remus had pulled away, shocked and feeling guilty for betraying a man two years dead. Draco had scowled at him and left Grimauld Place - but not before Remus had caught one traitorous tear spilling over his cheek.
"I was looking at the snow." Draco told him, in an effort to steer the conversation another way, wrenching the words from his proud mouth like a dentist. And Remus let him do it, because he knew why he'd brought it up, because he'd sounded like the boy he used to be. Perhaps the chance was already gone.
"It is beautiful. And we get so little of it now."
"It's not winter unless it snows." Draco said softly, almost speaking to himself. Remus stopped and looked at him silently; his amber eyes the only real colour in winter's land of black and white. He remembered those words being said by someone else, a lifetime ago. Draco looked back at him curiously, his own black and silver robes spotted with snowflakes which put Remus in mind of stars.
"No, then it's just a very long autumn." He replied, closing the small distance between them enough so that he could lean in and steal one brief kiss from the cold lips of a man 18 years younger than himself. Draco gaped at him when the werewolf withdrew, leaving one warm hand on his shoulder and a very un-Malfoy like expression on his face. Slowly, the shock melted away into a very pleased, sly smile.
"I think I could get used to autumn, with practice." He drawled, catching the front of Remus' robes in his hands and pulled him against the Weasley Twin's joke shop. When their lips met this time, they burned with winters cold and Remus wrapped his arms and cloak around Draco to keep the heat in.
Epilogue
"I'm telling you we saw them!" Cried Fred Weasley that night in the Leaky Cauldron to a disbelieving Ron and Harry.
"Malfoy." continued George.
"And Remus." Said Fred.
"Snogging!" Said George.
"Against our shop window!" They both cried, looking distressed.
Harry and Ron looked at each other and started to laugh. Fred and George made angry noises and vaguely threatening gestures at them, but they just laughed louder. When they eventually stopped, half the bar was looking at them and the twins were sulking.
"Good one you two." Ron chuckled picking up his pint again.
"Yeah, you nearly had us believing that one. Remus and Malfoy?" Harry laughed again, nearly spilling his pint.
Fin
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