Author's Note: A tiny little drabble to keep you warm during the after-Christmas cold.


A Winter's Walk

Moving in snow, they mirror their movements, hiking ever onward up an old, familiar trail. Their footsteps fade behind them and the path before them is clear and clean. It is as though they are the first people in the forest; that it has been made new for them by some benevolent deity. Trees are bare of leaves, but clumps of snow bunch around their branches, giving them a wintery coat as fine as any spring blooming. It sparkles in the sun as they pass, giving them the impression that the trees are winking at them.

They walk, breath fogging, gloved hand in gloved hand. It would be obvious to anyone, though, that they know this journey well. They do not speak, but there is no need to do so. The way he turns his head ever so slightly to look fondly at her, the way that she looks up, her cheeks flushed from cold and loving him as flakes of snow stick to her lashes. It is obvious how they feel for one another. They stop for a break, and she pulls a thermos from one of her pockets. They each sip the hot apple cider inside and she smiles sweetly at him before pulling her scarf back up over her nose. He twists his wand, refreshing the Warming Charm, and she reaches up to tuck the end of his scarf back into the neck of his cloak where it has been threatening to escape. He does not pull his scarf back over his face and she looks as though she's about to scold him, but he gently tips her chin up and pulls her scarf down just enough to press his lips against hers. He smiles against her lips when he hears the little surprised squeak he's been hoping she'd make.

Then, with a gentle tug, he snugly tucks her scarf back into place and she does the same for him. She nuzzles noses with him and he sighs softly enough that only she can hear.

Then, they continue onward and onward still. To the top of the mountain, where they will stand and watch the valley below them slowly turning white with the cold and the quiet, as they do each year. Then it will be time for home and warmth and blankets and soft words murmured in the firelight.

But for now, it's the cold and the quiet and the knowledge of their shared love warming their hearts against the wind.

It is a different sort of perfection, but perfection nonetheless.