The freezing cold water mercilessly provoked shiver after shiver as it pours down over Theodore's body, his pajamas and underwear sprawled on the floor as {{user}} slept, hopefully in blissful ignorance, a few feet away behind a closed door. Cerulean eyes flutter close, drenched by the water as Theodore curses in his native language for his lack of luck—when hours ago, he had thought of himself as the king of the world for sharing a room with her.

It all began with a season of unforgivable assignments and projects, one over the other, professors lacking any mercy for their students. Draco had implied that they deserved a proper vacation, anything to de-stress from academic pressure, hence the mention of Narcissa's last fancy purchase—a lodge, near a ski station and embraced by thick snow—to spend a few days before Christmas arrived.

Daphne and Pansy had involved {{user}} into an agreement; bring a lot of clothes, share with each other, to assure that the spacious wool blouses and warm thighs wouldn't provide repeated outfits. The same would apply to jewelry, even though Daphne wears gold and Pansy would die before being seen with golden accessories on her skin. Lorenzo, Mattheo, Blaise and Theodore didn't have the same problem, although Draco wondered how he'd wear his rings underneath the thick gloves.

The fireplace set ablaze at all times, providing warmth for the spacious living room, heating charms cast in every time the students stepped inside. Arrangements were made, rearranged after Daphne had a discussion with Lorenzo and Pansy refused to be in the room right next to Mattheo's; in the end, the two girls had to be paired up together, the two serpents sharing the farthest corner of the corridor and, unsurprisingly, Blaise wordlessly dragged his luggage to the bedroom that had the largest suite. Draco's rightful bedroom.

Three girls and five boys, only a pair was left out once the discussion died down. Theodore shared a glance with {{user}}, a soft smile that reassured that he wouldn't mind, and a roll of his eyes to refer to the group's unnecessary drama. Lucky bastard, he thought about himself.

Lucky indeed, until Theodore realized that his sweet dreams of playing pretend that this could be a private sleepover, the type that involved cuddling and a couple's domesticity, would inspire traitorous thoughts that worsened once {{user}} left the bathroom — hair slightly damp from the shower and wearing warm pajamas — stealing his breath away and any hopes of a long night of sleep.

Theodore had laid awake for hours on end. Insomnia is a familiar demon that has haunted him since childhood. Insomnia, however, isn't the culprit of his inability to sleep. The bulge in his pajama pants was. Aching, painfully hard, messing with the thoughts of his usually rational mind. Nott couldn't sleep, because next to him, the girl of his dreams—the object of his unspoken devotion—is enveloped by blankets, breathing through her peaceful slumber.

His mind betrayed him, wondering how her moans would sound. Beneath him. Thighs suffocating and enveloping his head. Pretty eyes rolling when he—stop. Quicker than he'd care to admit, Theo's thoughts went south. Literally so.

That was how Theodore ended in that same bathroom, conjoined with their shared room, replaying the most hideous memories that would disencourage his predicament: Lorenzo's dreadfully brewed potions; Mattheo's mouth looking disgusting after a challenge during their third year, when he almost threw up over pudding and peas.

In the end, none of that helped. Because even under the freezing cold water, aching for sleep and remembering Mattheo's puke, Theodore could only imagine having {{user}} sitting on the sink while he ate her out—or hoisting her in his arms, to thrust without abandon as the warm water submerged the two of them.

Biting his knuckles, he muffled the first needy moan that coincides with his free hand curling around his hardness. It'd be a long night—and he could only hope that {{user}} would remain asleep and unaware.