Mulled Wine
Draco awoke to a comfy warmth within his very core. A blanket was wrapped around his body and when he cracked his eyes open wearily, eyelashes tickling against his cheeks, flames danced in front of him, giving way to a peaceful cracking of the burning wood that he always liked.
The numb cold was all but a distant memory now, no longer a problem but for those unfortunate enough to still be outside.
He looked down under the blanket to see he had been dressed in strange clothes, a simple white shirt way too large for him paired with gray sweatpants that hung off of his hip bones.
A shuffle sounded behind him and Draco shot up like an arrow, lips parted to bare razor sharp teeth that weren’t even there.
“Lugna dig.” A man with a husky voice spoke to him in an oddly familiar language, but a stranger to his ears and tongue. He had his hands raised in the air to show Draco he was relatively harmless and unarmed.
The man had messy black hair with a glint of blue in the highlights where the moonshine hit him in an angle that did him too much justice, considering the scar that ran over his closed eyelid down to his lips.
Draco watched as the stranger got up from where he was sitting in an armchair, rounded a corner into a room the blonde couldn’t quite see clearly, and then started rummaging through something that clattered an awful lot, like he was just slapping pots together to summon the devil.
The man returned holding two small glasses steaming with smoke. Draco traced his every movement with his eyes until the other held out one glass to him. He curiously glanced into the glass to see a red-ish liquor then looked up with a questioning expression.
“Glögg.” Draco took the small glass with three fingers and brought it to his nose to inhale the scent. Pungent and strong.
“Wine?” He asked but the man only huffed.
“Mulled wine.” Thank Merlin he spoke english or this would’ve been a lot more confusing to process.
He downed the mulled wine in one chug and immediately regretted it.
“It’s very strong. Sour.”
Yet the heat from the drink was nice and the taste confirmed that he was definitely not dead.
A knock sounded from the wooden door and his companion got up to respond, leaving his drink on a small coffee table made of glass.
Once he opened the front door a foul swoop of ice cold wind gusted into the room and Draco huddled closer to the fireplace as he stretched to see who the man were discussing with in, once again, that familiar language, it reminded him of German that Pansy spoke fluently.
“...här inne?” Asked a breathy voice and was responded to with a lazy hum.
Flaming ginger hair, pale skin and distinct freckles.
“You have got to be fucking shitting me.” Draco stood up immediately, eyes wide and hackles raised.
“Hello, Malfoy. I believe this will be our first official meeting.” Said Charlie dragon-fucker Weasley with a light smile. His cheeks were pink with the cold even when tucked under a thick scarf.