Roses (A Drarry FanFiction - Roses are Red, Violets are Blue Part 1)

Chapter One

   The wind was bitter and unrelenting as Harry trudged up the craggy rocks, careful not to lose his footing and twist an ankle. If he got in trouble out here, who knew how long it would take before anyone could come to help, even with the aid of magic.

He was way out at the northern edge of the Scottish Highlands, towards the Orkney Islands, so far up that there was currently no sign of civilisation as far as the eye could see. Just rolling hills so high they could almost be considered mountains, covered with weather hardened heather and swathes of dull green grass that looked like it had been fighting it out for sunshine from behind the ominous clouds above. It wasn't raining exactly, but the air was heavy with moisture and it clung to Harry's clothes and skin. He'd charmed his glasses to repel the water so he could still see, which was fortunate as he persevered up what might generously be called a path, but was in all honesty just a goat trail that even the goats had forgotten about. Every step threatened to unsettle his footing and more than once he'd had to catch himself from a stumble.

"Fuck!" As if on cue, Harry's travelling companion gracelessly pin wheeled his arms as his feet threatened to betray him, but he managed to find his balance before hitting the dirt.

Harry smirked good naturedly. "I told you not to wear those boots Malfoy," he called over his shoulder, the wind threatening to swallow up his words. Malfoy heard him though, judging from the two fingers he flipped him.

"Sod off Potter," he shouted back, but it was lacking in any real rancour.

This wasn't the first time Harry had found himself working with Draco Malfoy; the Auror division often collaborated with others like the Curse Breakers, but this was the first time they'd been paired solely by themselves. Ron had had a field day at Harry's expense, but the truth was Harry wasn't all that bothered. Sure, on a personal level he'd much rather be working with his best friend or any number of his other colleagues, but Malfoy was good at what he did, and in all the years since they'd left school their animosity had dwindled considerably. Plus, Harry had to admit he was seriously easy on the eye now he'd grown up a bit.

"Oi!" Malfoy cried from behind him. "How much longer? And don't give me that 'we're nearly there' shit, you said that an hour ago."

That didn't mean they were necessarily nice to one another.

Harry stopped and pulled out his wand as well the map he'd been working from. It struggled against his grip in the fierce wind, so Malfoy came up alongside him and grabbed the other side to steady it into a relatively flat shape. Harry held up his wand and gave it silent commands, his cloak whipping distractingly around his ankles as the damp mist clawed at his face.

"I actually don't think we're far this time," he said loudly, even though Draco was next to him. He pointed at the map in the waning afternoon sun. It was only around four o'clock, but the light was starting to dip that time of year anyway and the grey omnipresent clouds gave the landscape an even gloomier tinge.

Malfoy looked from the map, up the hillside, and back to the map. "Yeah," he conceded. "I think you're right. It looks like it could just be over in that next valley."

Harry nodded and pocketed the map. He flashed a quick warming charm on himself and Draco before slipping his wand away again, and carrying on along their goat trail.

"Are we sure they're going to be there?" Malfoy asked from just behind Harry.

He shrugged. "We at least know they were here," he said, indicating their intended destination over the rise. "How else do you explain such wide ranging apparition restrictions? And if we can see anything once we'll get to the top, we'll know they made it unplotable – who does that to a tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere?"