Title: Winter Season
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Adrian/Miles
Rating: PG 13 for language
Word Count: 365
Summary: Adrian doesn't like the cold.
Additional Notes: Again, written for hp_kris_kringle. I've at least two more ficlets written for that comm, pretty soon I'll put up new stuff. Ish. I protest that no one is online, and I can't log into Y!M. Oh my GOD, WHERE is EVERYONE? *slumps* I protest that I lost my Photoshop, and no one seems to be able to lend me theirs. All I've been doing offline is listening to music (sustains me) and playing Solitaire (am in TEARS). You can also tell that the reason I posted fic was so I can rant. :|

PS. OMG I will DIE of boredom COME ONLINE and GMAIL ME.


Adrian despised the cold. He hated the draft of icy wind that made its way down the depths of the Slytherin dungeons at night, the harsh chill of the stone walls of their dormitory. He loathed the freezing air, the icy droplets of rain that seeped through the fabric of his Quidditch robes and through his skin. The cold went straight to his bone, piercing right through skin to freeze his soul.

"Fucking weather, fucking cold," he cursed, slamming the door to the Slytherin showers after their match against Ravenclaw. His sight had been heavily crippled by the heavy fall of rain, and he'd fumbled a few passes and threw the Quaffle towards Ravenclaw chasers instead. It hadn't been a good match, although they'd won by thirty points.

"Go ahead, Pucey. Blame the weather instead of your abysmal Quidditch skills."

Adrian looked up to see Miles Bletchley sneering at him from the shower stall, arms crossed as he leant back against the wall, a dark green towel wrapped around his slim waist. Adrian narrowed his eyes, saying nothing as he jerked off his protective caps and pulled off his robes.

"Like you fared any better. I can't believe you let those Quaffles into the goalposts."

"I can't believe you threw those Quaffles into our goalposts."

"Shut up, Bletchley," Adrian snarled, shoving the boy aside as he stepped into a shower stall, cursing as his feet touched mud on the floor. "Fucking barbarians - who didn't bloody take off their bloody boots?"

"You're really not in the mood today, are you?"

"You mean you can't tell?"

Miles took a step closer to Adrian - the taller boy noted with disdain that Bletchley had rubber slippers on - and cocked his head to the side. "I can't say I can. What is your problem?" he asked, shoving Adrian back against the wall.

"Shit!" Adrian hissed as the cold shower tiles burned through his bare back. "Piss off, Bletchley, and let a man shower in bloody peace."

"Why should I?" Miles taunted, suddenly so much closer than Adrian felt marginally comfortable with, and yet, also so much warmer.

"I don't know," Adrian mumbled, and he wasn't cold anymore.

Tags: character: adrian pucey, character: miles bletchley, rating: pg13, type: rare ships, type: slash, word count: 201-500
mood: cranky
music: Everything - Lifehouse